Chapter 3

This Germany Needs a Führer Chapter 3 (3/246)

All is Well at Home

Gaining knowledge of the future is indeed a good thing, but it has also brought about a few side effects.

For example, the 'common sense' in my head seems to be a tangled mess somewhere between 19th century Germany, 20th century, and 21st century South Korea.

For instance, Major Cho's memory includes an anecdote where he dressed up in a funny white beard on December 25th and distributed leave passes to the soldiers (and was worshipped as the Second Coming of Jesus for a few days), but in 1893 Germany, there is no Santa Claus infiltrating chimneys.

Catholics celebrate St. Nicholas Day on December 6th by giving gifts to children, and the German version of Santa Claus, instead of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, pulls along old men and devils as his helpers, while the Christkind, a baby Jesus with angel wings, also gives out gifts.

Just from this Santa story, can't you roughly guess? Germany is a massive patchwork of dozens or even hundreds of countries, with many similarities but also many differences.

A country that was only 'unified' in 1871.

Unified under Prussian leadership, the German Empire was established with Prussia at its center, but beneath the facade of the empire were all sorts of kingdoms, grand duchies, duchies, margraviates, free cities, and the imperial territory of Alsace-Lorraine... a complete mishmash. Austria is said to be even more complicated, but I don't even want to know.

Nevertheless, in 1893, right now.

The heart of the empire, Berlin, was growing at an incredible pace.

The city was expanding so much that one had to take the tram to get from one end of Berlin to the other, and there were even calls to start construction on a subway system soon.

Young men and women would ride bicycles to the outskirts on weekends, and automobiles, the marvels of civilization, were beginning to appear on the roads.

The infinite confidence that if you can do it, you will make it happen.

The endless spirit of challenge that we run only towards success.

I could see the image of South Korea during its high-growth period, which had never appeared on Earth, overlapping with this Berlin. The German Empire and South Korea. They even share the 'D' and 'K' in their names. They are so similar.

So, isn't it only natural to harness this spirit of challenge and embark on the development of an airplane?

"I want to invent a flying machine!"

"Hehe, is that so? Our third-generation genius Armin wants to conquer the sky! Yes, I'll support you in anything, my son!"

... Even I find it absurd. It's really well thought out.

Even if my father has never hit me directly, I never expected such a heartwarming scene. It's troublesome.

In this tumultuous era, the late 19th century and early 20th century.

Many inventions and discoveries are being made, but there were a few reasons why I became obsessed with airplanes.

First, 'the sky' is incredibly symbolic, and its impact is widespread.

It's a field where everyone starts from zero, so great achievements can be made with ideas, simple concepts, and future knowledge.

Frankly, can I develop penicillin or wireless telegraphy? No way. Even if I were a related technician from the future, it's uncertain whether I could become the 'first' using 19th-century technology.

I might be able to make something like a tank or barbed wire.

But as I've said repeatedly, this is the German Empire. A country where nobles are soldiers and soldiers are nobles. Do you understand how complicated and dangerous it is to challenge the military procurement of weapons in such a country? Without a solid backing, you wouldn't even dare to try.

So, airplanes.

Putting aside all these shiny reasons, the development of aircraft was the most feasible thing I could think of. Jo Bum-seok seemed to really like airplanes. He had a conflict between the Military Academy and the Air Force Academy and ended up going to the Military Academy, but if he had gone to the Air Force Academy, he might not have died so tragically.

The Wright brothers will invent the airplane in 10 years.

I need to secure capital within 10 years.

I also need to secure my own technical abilities.

I need to verify whether the future knowledge in my head is correct.

I need to find collaborators in areas where others are better than me, such as engines and design.

To do that, first.

"I'm going out."

"Okay, be careful."

I had to go back to school.

Ah, yes, yes.

***

"Armin, oh my, your grades! Oh, you've been studying hard!"

"It's nothing special."

"Great. You're just like my son. I believed you could do anything, my German boy."

"Yes."

"You should be grateful. You should be thankful that you can eat white bread every morning. If you don't study properly, you'll end up miserable like those factory workers."

"Yes."

"So don't get too excited about this grade and keep working hard—"

My father, who was more excited than me, was talking nonsense about how our child seemed to be a genius and should skip a grade and go to a prestigious gymnasium.

My mother, ignoring the rambling father, hugged me tightly and wouldn't let go. I almost suffocated. If I keep getting top grades, she'll be too happy.

After I consistently got top grades, peace finally descended upon the Rosenbaum household.

Or rather, for the first time in my short life, 'laughter' and 'happiness' were flowing. Wow, thank you, future knowledge!

After getting top grades and sitting arrogantly on the sofa, I realized that a child's life was truly peaceful.

Go to school, study, play, eat, and sleep.

Do all the other kids enjoy this peace and happiness? It makes my stomach hurt.

Of course, in my teens, I would have seen this as being 'imprisoned in a school for the crime of being a student' rather than a 'peaceful and sweet life,' but I'm a special case. I might be the only one like this in the world.

Elementary school was, of course, incredibly boring. Ha, so dull.

Kids are so annoying.

They run around with boundless energy like newly fired bullets, and their voices are so loud, it's as if they're newly hatched mandrakes or flying pterodactyls, flapping their bodies.

Do I have to live like this at my age? This body, which has seen the future, is supposed to be involved in major national affairs or world peace, not sitting at a tiny desk and doing math with kids. This is why Prussia is doomed.

Wouldn't it be fine for me to skip a few grades? Honestly, getting top grades is like a civilian massacre. It's like a professional soccer player joining a kids' soccer league.

But my grand ambition hit an unexpected obstacle.

"Hey, Armin! Let's play soccer!"

"Soccer?"

Daredevils challenging me, the king of the military family, the miracle of Moses, the Maradona of Gyeongryeong University. How pitiful and sad.

"Heck, heck, heck!!"

"Kid, you've been studying like a bookworm lately, haven't you? You've become so weak."

"You guys, are, heck, so, energetic!"

"No, you're just weak."

"Armin... can't... play soccer... at all..."

But I was wrong.

What kind of country is Prussia?

A country where the army owns the state, a country obsessed with the military.

A country that created an education system to produce excellent soldiers.

Of course, I didn't want to be labeled as a 'weak bookworm' in such a country, so my grand plan to skip grades was slightly delayed. Could I become a weakling when I was a professional soldier in my previous life?

But it was only slightly delayed, not canceled.

"What? You're not skipping a grade?"

"Yes."

"Why not?"

My father, Bruno Rosenbaum, put a cigar in his mouth as soon as he got home and looked at me.

The same man who was dancing around our house a few days ago, saying we had a prodigy, now looked like he might punch me at any moment. Is he a psychopath?

"Are you afraid of skipping a grade?"

"No."

"Then, do you not want to be in a different class from your friends?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why don't you want to skip a grade?"

"Since a healthy mind resides in a healthy body, I'm worried that if I skip a grade and overwork myself, I might get sick."

"Is that so...?"

"Yes."

Isn't that a reasonable statement?

But he looked at me with a very... strange expression. As if he were looking at an alien from The X-Files or a monster from a horror movie. That look should be directed at you.

"Then, do as you wish. You are the one who will carry on our family, so it's good to build up your strength."

"Yes."

I couldn't understand this man's thoughts.

It's strange. I have decades more social experience than him, yet I can't figure out what he's thinking.

This body is still afraid of my drunk father's punches. I dream about them. Even with decades of future memories, my breathing quickens when my father clenches his fists. This is truly irresistible... this must be trauma.

But thinking about it, I was only hit once, 'that day.' He always hits my mother or breaks things, but not me.

"Armin."

"Yes."

"My son."

"Yes."

"I have high hopes for you. I hope you grow up to be a great person."

"..."

"You can skip a grade next time. Yes, take a break."

I don't know.

Anyway, I nodded.

As always, even with future knowledge, this father is...

Too hard to figure out.

***

I diligently followed the 20th-century physical training routine and bulked up thanks to the boundless energy of my growth period.

Despite achieving results worthy of a novel titled "The Future Cheat: The Strongest Elementary School Student with Both Literary and Martial Skills."

"Are you going?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Study well. I'll be back in two weeks."

The family atmosphere was deteriorating rapidly.

Just a few months.

Not a year, not two years.

I thought I might return to a 'normal family' for a brief moment, but in just a few months, the family atmosphere had deteriorated to this point.

What's difficult about the economy, America's collapse, Britain's instability, I can see from a glance at the newspaper or documents my father reads. My father, who works at Deutsche Bank, probably goes on business trips when he's bored.

But the point when he started looking at me strangely was before the economic downturn.

When exactly? After I decided to delay skipping a grade and focus on exercise.

Carrying this unsolvable mystery, I commuted between home and school for a few months.

And on a normal evening.

Just as I was getting up from the table after finishing my meal.

Bang!!

"Ouch, hey!! Why did you leave your shoes like this!! Burp!"

"Didn't you come straight home and drink again? Look at you. The smell... Wait a moment, take off your coat first—"

"You damn woman, why are you looking at your husband like that!! Hey!! Who did you sleep with this time?!"

With a slap, my mother fell to the floor.

And I couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop it! Why do you always want to eat my mother?!"

"You brat! You're living off the money your father earns day and night, and you're acting like a delinquent—"

His fist flew.

I caught his right wrist.

"What, what?"

"Stop it, please."

"You, you brat!"

This time, he swung his left arm, but I caught it too.

My father was weaker than I thought.

A mere elementary school student who had been exercising for a few months... Of course, my growth was quite good, but still, to be caught so easily.

Could such a weak person have been so abusive at home?

His face turned bright red, but I didn't let go of his arms.

"Let go."

"You've had too much to drink. I can't let go."

"Let's talk. Let go!"

The anger in his eyes soon turned into the strange emotion I had seen recently.

Now I knew one thing.

Fear.

The fear of a man who has been overpowered by his own son.

But it wasn't just fear; it was mixed with something else—

"I'm sober. I won't hit you. Let go of my hand."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Father is a gentleman, so I believe you."

I gently stimulated his pride and let go of his arm.

My mother was still sitting on the floor.

I was drenched in sweat.

Father quietly went to his study.

Without much thought, I followed him into the study.

"Father."

"Don't call me that! You, you!!"

He tried to shout something but clamped his mouth shut.

But I could guess what he couldn't say.

Anyone could tell that it included the words, "You are not my son."

A secret of birth.

My life... Look at the state of my life.

Oh.

Oh... Yes, that's it.

Thinking about it again, I must be Jo Bum-seok...!