When I opened my eyes, I expected hospital lights. Or at least a coffin. Instead, I found myself in a bed that felt too soft, wearing clothes that smelled faintly of lavender and rot.
Something was wrong.
A ceiling I didn't recognize. Stone walls. A curtain fluttering in the breeze.
Then came the pain.
"Ghh—!"
My ribs ached, my head throbbed, and my hands—these weren't my hands. Too smooth. Too soft. No calluses from clipboards or shipping crates.
A memory hit me like a truck. Or more accurately, like the ten-foot-high stack of inventory pallets that crushed me to death.
Right. I was Junho Park, 32, supply chain coordinator.Died on the warehouse floor. Probably the most ironic death in logistics history.
And now—now I was someone else.
[System Booting…][Loading Host Data: Kael Marron, Age 19, Title: Useless Noble Heir]
[Current Estate Metrics:]Grain Reserves: 7%Morale: 21%Peasant Unrest: 92%
[Skill Unlocked: Damage Control (Lv.1)]Improves believability of all excuses and last-minute explanations by 5%.
What the hell?
The door slammed open.
"Master Kael! You're awake!" a woman cried. A maid, maybe seventeen, rushed in with tear-stained eyes. "Thank the spirits. We thought the blow to your head might've… You remember who you are, don't you?"
Kael Marron.
Right. That name.
Noble idiot. Failing heir to a crumbling estate. Rumored to have been kicked out of the Royal Academy after failing literacy exams three years in a row. Drunk, useless, and recently clubbed in the head during a peasant riot.
This body was a walking bankruptcy notice.
I forced a smile.
"Yes. Of course. Kael Marron. Me. Obviously. The very same."
The maid squinted.
"…You're speaking clearly today."
"Must've been the concussion. Reset some things."
Two hours later, I stood in front of an angry mob.
And by "stood," I mean I was being propped up between two guards, one of whom kept whispering, "Don't faint again, my lord," like he was hoping I would.
The peasants were shouting. Dozens of them. Dirty faces, weathered hands, trembling with fury.
"You raised the mill tax again!"
"There's no wheat left to grind!"
"My son joined the guards and still hasn't been paid!"
They hurled accusation after accusation, and I stood there in total silence, sweating through my noble robes.
I had no context. No idea what this body had done. Probably something incredibly stupid.
But I had one weapon.
[Skill: Damage Control (Lv.1) Active]
I took a deep breath.
"I hear your anger. And you're right to be angry," I said, loud and clear. "This estate has been mismanaged. Grossly. Tragedies have piled up, and I take full responsibility."
The mob quieted slightly.
I wasn't done.
"I have come to a revelation. A vision, if you will. The way we've done things? It's outdated. Flawed. It's time to begin anew."
The peasants stared. Someone coughed.
"I call it… the Resource-Integrated Rotational Redistribution Initiative."
Silence.
"…What?"
I coughed and nodded solemnly.
"Yes. From this day forward, no more arbitrary tax hikes. No more silos burning down mysteriously. No more soldiers raiding their own villages for 'emergency provisions.' I'm enacting a new model. Productivity-based, merit-aligned. Each household will contribute proportionally according to seasonal output."
No idea what I was saying.
But it sounded nice. And more importantly, it sounded bureaucratic enough to confuse them.
One man scratched his head. "You mean… less tax?"
"Exactly," I said. "But with shared surplus redistribution during lean months. A self-reinforcing cycle."
Someone in the crowd muttered, "Gods above… He's actually trying to fix it."
[System Notification]Peasant Unrest: 92% → 75%Morale: 21% → 38%
Progress.
Then a hand clamped on my shoulder.
Sir Dorian, the estate's knight-commander. His armor was dented, his brow scarred, and his eyes full of suspicion.
"You're not Kael," he said under his breath.
"I assure you I am," I whispered back.
"You never used words longer than two syllables before."
"I read a book last night. It changed me."
"…You don't know how to read."
"I skimmed it."
He stared at me long and hard. Then he turned to the crowd.
"You heard the young lord. The estate is changing. Give us seven days to prove it."
Seven days?
[New Quest Unlocked]Title: "A Week Without Collapse"Objective: Maintain peace and prove competence as an estate manager for 7 daysReward: Estate Blueprint - Basic Logistics CenterFailure: Mob Uprising and Possible Beheading
Back in my chambers, I collapsed onto the floor.
The maid brought a tray of tea and biscuits. I ignored it. My head was spinning.
This wasn't a dream. Not anymore.
I was stuck here. In a crumbling estate, surrounded by enemies, in the body of a man everyone hated.
But for once… I had full authority. No middle managers. No sales execs screaming about quarterly budgets. Just land, people, and chaos.
I flexed my fingers. These weren't my hands.
But they could build something.
Something better.
"System," I said quietly, "show me my next task."
[Opening Logistics Panel…]Inventory Waste: 34%Food Spoilage Rate: 17%Material Loss by Theft: 22%
Priority Recommendation: Reorganize Granary Supply ChainSubtask 1: Find out where the hell the grain is actually going
A smile tugged at my lips.
Fine. Let's build a kingdom. One spreadsheet at a time.
To be continue...