A Billionaire's Last Deal
Leon Aldrich sat in his high-rise penthouse, gazing at the glowing skyline of his empire. The city stretched out before him, a testament to his genius, his ruthless efficiency, and his iron will. Just hours ago, he had finalized one of the biggest acquisitions in modern corporate history—a multi-billion-dollar merger that made him, without question, one of the most powerful men in the world. CEOs bowed to him, governments sought his favor, and the media painted him as either a visionary or a devil, depending on their agenda.
He didn't care.
Power was power, no matter how people perceived it.
Leaning back in his leather chair, he exhaled slowly, savoring the moment. He reached for his crystal glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the dim light.
Then, his laptop screen flickered.
A notification appeared, but it wasn't from any of his security systems, nor was it from his private network. It was a simple message, written in stark white text on a black background:
"You have been chosen."
Leon frowned. Chosen for what? A virus? A hacking attempt? His cyber-security was impenetrable—no one should have been able to breach it. He moved his hand toward the keyboard to shut it down, but the moment his fingers touched the keys—
The world collapsed.
Reality twisted, folded in on itself like ink bleeding into water. His penthouse walls stretched, warped, and then disintegrated into nothingness. The familiar hum of the city vanished, replaced by an overwhelming silence. It wasn't just darkness; it was as if the very concept of existence was being erased.
Leon barely had time to process what was happening before—
The Awakening in a New World
THUD!
Pain exploded across his back as he crashed onto the ground.
His breath left him in a harsh gasp, the impact rattling his bones. He groaned, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted. The air smelled…different. Damp. Earthy. He could feel cold stone beneath him, rough and uneven. A stark contrast to the smooth, polished marble floors of his penthouse.
Slowly, he forced his eyes open.
Gone were the glass walls and the skyline. Instead, he was lying in the middle of a narrow alleyway, dimly lit by flickering torches mounted on crumbling stone buildings. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood, burning oil, and unwashed bodies. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the distant chatter of people, the occasional clinking of metal, and the distant neighing of horses.
Leon pushed himself up to a sitting position, his muscles aching. His usual tailored suit was gone. Instead, he was clad in tattered, dirt-streaked clothes, rough and itchy against his skin. His once perfectly styled black hair hung in loose, uneven strands over his forehead. He reached into his pockets—
Nothing.
No phone. No wallet. No ID. No proof of the man he once was.
For the first time in years, a cold chill of uncertainty crawled up his spine.
This wasn't Earth.
His mind raced through possibilities—a kidnapping? A high-tech simulation? A psychological experiment? But the details were too vivid, too real. The smell of rotting wood. The distant echo of horse hooves on cobblestone. The uncomfortable prickle of cheap fabric against his skin. This wasn't a dream.
He was in another world.
And worse… he was at the bottom.
A World Without Money
His stomach growled. Hunger. A sensation he hadn't felt in decades.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of his weakened body. He walked toward the source of the noise—the sound of trade, of people exchanging goods. A marketplace.
The streets opened into a bustling square, filled with wooden stalls selling all manner of goods—freshly baked bread, glistening fruits, roasted meat skewers. The scent of food was unbearable. His body, once accustomed to gourmet cuisine prepared by private chefs, now craved even a single scrap.
He approached a stall stacked with round loaves of bread, golden brown and steaming. The vendor was a burly man with a thick beard, his apron stained with flour.
Leon reached out. Just one. Just enough to stop the hunger.
A hand slammed onto his wrist.
"Trying to steal, beggar?" The vendor sneered, tightening his grip. His meaty fingers dug into Leon's skin.
The old him—the corporate king—would have simply paid his way out, crushed this man with wealth. But here, he had no money. No power.
People stopped to watch. Judging. Whispering. Laughing.
Leon yanked his hand back, his jaw clenched. He could have fought back—his strength was still there, his hidden power untouched—but he wasn't ready to reveal it.
This was not his world. Not yet.
A New Strategy
His instincts kicked in. Panic wouldn't help. Complaining wouldn't change anything.
If he could build an empire in one world… he could do it again.
He inhaled deeply, straightened his posture, and observed. Not just looking—analyzing.
Who holds power here?
What goods are in demand?
Who controls the economy?
Where is the power shifting?
A system existed here, even if it was primitive. He just had to find the cracks.
But first, he needed a way to survive.
And if that meant playing the part of a fool, a weakling, a lowly beggar for now…
Then so be it.
Because the strongest players never reveal their hand too early.
And in this new world, he would rise once again.