Shadow of the Old Continent (4)
We spoke with Hitler through an interpreter seated beside us.
Strangely, Hess and Goebbels—who had been accompanying us just moments ago—were nowhere to be seen. It was a peculiar dining table attended only by Hitler, myself, Ezel, and the interpreter.
Adolf Hitler.
One of the very few people whose name alone sends chills down your spine.
And I… was calmly cutting my meat with a knife right in front of him.
Come to think of it, wasn't Hitler a vegetarian? I swear I kept getting video recommendations calling him the most famous vegetarian in the world.
If I didn't have much experience under my belt, I might've seriously debated whether or not to blow the head off this most famous figure of the 20th century. But at this point, who cares?
I'd already twisted the flow of history beyond recognition by becoming pen pals with Tojo Hideki and knocking Woodrow Wilson out of the picture. As long as my career didn't go completely to hell, what's the big deal about having a meal with Hitler?
Besides, the higher-ups had already given the order: "Try to get along." A soldier follows orders. So I just had to do my best to play nice.
"W-wasn't Chairman… Hitler a vegetarian?"
Give me a break for my trembling voice. My brain keeps playing documentaries like "Yujin Kim: The Birth of Evil" or "Downfall: The Last 72 Hours of Yujin Kim."
The interpreter somehow conveyed my words, and Hitler broke into a wide smile, nodding repeatedly.
"That's correct. I had been considering it for some time and only recently began practicing vegetarianism. However, I have no intention of imposing my dietary habits on guests who have traveled such a long way. I want our guests to leave with only good memories of our party and our country. After all, how disappointing would it be to come all the way to Germany—the land of beer and sausages—only to eat vegetables?"
Ah… I see. Thank you for your considerate generosity.
Contrary to the shrieking, vein-popping speeches shown in countless videos, Hitler spoke in a calm, almost timid tone.
"General Kim, I hear you are active in many fields. Do you perhaps hold any particular political views?"
"Haha. Wouldn't it be dangerous for a soldier to hold political opinions?"
"It's rather absurd to be unable to pursue one's grand ideals simply because of one's profession. It pains me to see democracy castrating the great heroes who could shape an era."
Yeah… pure fascism. Doesn't matter how polite it sounds—the content is the same.
But surprisingly, in this era, those words still worked.
"Indeed. The idea of one person, one vote can be quite maddening, haha."
"I am always grateful for Chairman Ford's support. I would appreciate it if you could convey my thanks to your father."
"Of course. My father is also very interested in business opportunities in Germany. To be honest, with constant strikes and gang violence, Germany isn't exactly an attractive place for investment. What you really need is a strong leader—"
"Ezel. Pass me the pepper next to you."
Don't give me that annoyed look just because I cut you off. I'm desperately trying to shield you from your future disgrace, you idiot.
Perhaps sensing something from my reaction, Hitler lightly smiled and changed the topic by proposing a toast. Our glasses were filled with champagne, while his—being a teetOotaler—was filled with a soft drink.
"I understand your concerns, General Kim. You must be worried about saying the wrong thing and getting hurt by politics."
"As an American, I simply refrain from speaking on matters I do not fully understand."
"Then allow me to say a word. Since 1918, when fools plunged this country into the gutter, Germany has not known peace."
His eyes changed.
Was it the gaze of a warrior fighting against the injustices of the world?
Or the madness of someone who simply hated the world itself?
If I could read minds just by looking, I'd be a psychic. But it wasn't hard to tell that something was burning inside him.
"Throughout German history, we have never once had a republic. Americans have never experienced monarchy, so we have no intention of forcing it upon you. But the Entente powers have placed this strange leash called 'republicanism' upon Germany."
Yet his tone remained calm.
Clear, concise words—as if seeking our understanding.
This age of madness hadn't appeared out of nowhere.
Having lived in both South Korea and the United States, I had always taken democracy for granted—something that can be frustrating at times, but must be protected.
But for many people of this era, democracy was merely one political system among many. Monarchies that once ruled the world had simply collapsed under the weight of defeat.
And Hitler understood that fact very well.
"It is a societal waste for an extraordinary individual like General Kim to possess the same political rights as the lowest underclass. However, it would not be appropriate for me to comment on America's political system.
Likewise, Germans have always followed strong leaders and understood the virtue of obedience. Germany lost everything simply because it lost a war that was not entirely its fault."
"A truly heartbreaking situation."
Ezel. Stop. Stay…
"The Treaty of Versailles. Self-determination. Very well. Let us say self-determination is the spirit of the age. Then why must rightful German lands and people—from Memel to Danzig, Sudetenland, and Alsace-Lorraine—live as slaves under foreign nations?! I cannot abandon them! Germany will reclaim its rightful rights, and no scheme will stop the sacred war of the German people!"
"Self-determination? That was just that lunatic Wilson's idea, wasn't it? Germany does seem to have gotten a bit of a raw deal."
"Thank you, Chairman. I, too, love peace. But I question whether Germany's rightful demands can truly be resolved through words alone."
I kept my mouth shut and focused on savoring the German meat, but unfortunately, that peace-loving mustache seemed eager to hear my opinion.
"General Kim, what do you—"
BANG BANG BANG!!
"Open the door!"
"Do not open it."
"Leader! This is urgent! The door—open the door at once!!"
BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!
The man who had been exuding such overwhelming charisma just moments ago now looked like an ordinary man sighing in annoyance.
"Open it. Let's hear what this is about."
"Understood."
When the door opened, the one who came rushing in, panting… was a massive, uniformed, obese man. Do they dress pigs in uniforms in Germany these days?
"Pleasure to meet you, General Kim! I am Hermann Wilhelm Göring, President of the Reichstag."
"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you…"
The so-called father of the Luftwaffe and future provider of "air supply" at Stalingrad—none other than Hermann Göring. The undisputed number two of the Nazi regime. Seeing him in person… what a visual assault.
"Did you say it was urgent? Speak your business quickly."
Hitler waved his hand dismissively as if shooing away flies, but the pig only grinned ear to ear and pulled something out from his inner breast pocket.
"Would you mind writing something here for me?"
"You mean… this?"
"That's right! On this Golden Black Lotus, if you could just write a single line—'To Germany's greatest ace, Göring'—"
"How rude of you in front of our guest!"
"Haha. I don't mind."
Yeah. Honestly, this was far better than sitting through that suffocating lecture on Nazism.
I took the pen from Göring and was about to write what he asked, but something felt off, so I decided to ask him.
"Uh… Mr. Göring?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"This card… it's in German."
"Of course it is."
No, you pig. Why are you so confident about that?
"I'm not exactly a businessman, so I may be mistaken, but as far as I remember, the cards we produced only have an English version."
"That can't be right. These cards you made are quite popular here in Germany."
"Uh… maybe that's because I didn't make them?"
Silence.
An unbearably awkward stillness filled the room.
Hitler tilted his head and calmly ate his salad,
Göring paused for a moment, then casually poured himself a glass of alcohol and downed it in one go.
"…Are you saying all of these German versions are fake?"
Seems like it.
Back in the day, children feared tigers, smallpox, and war. These days, the real threat is counterfeit merchandise.
Right, this is more like the 1930s I know. Even when I was a kid, stationery shops sold all kinds of knockoff cards. Copyright? What would that even mean a hundred years ago? Truly amazing.
"This! This is all fake? ALL OF IT?!!"
The crazy pig started wailing pitifully.
Hitler let out hollow laughter, repeatedly rubbing his face in disbelief.
Ezel quietly turned his head away, pretending not to see.
And I was stuck there, held by a sobbing pig, sweating bullets.
"Alright, calm down—"
"This cannot be! All the treasures of the world are supposed to belong to me, Göring! How—how could I end up with fakes?!"
After crying his heart out, the pig suddenly seemed to get an idea and began shaking me by the shoulders.
"General Kim! Then perhaps… would you consider selling this officially in Germany?"
"…Excuse me?"
"I would like to take full responsibility for translation and distribution here! Please—please grant me the rights!"
"Ah, yes, well… when I return to America, I'll discuss it with my younger brother—"
"Thank you! Thank you!"
"Is that enough? Then be on your way. I'll arrange another meeting later—discuss your strange paper scraps then."
Göring left with a beaming smile, as if he hadn't just had a meltdown moments ago.
…Was that pig acting on purpose?
***
The food was good, Hitler was suffocating, and I really wanted to punch Ezel in the head like John Cena.
For a moment, I almost thought I had twisted history so much that Adolf had turned into a kind gentleman. Nope—same old Hitler.
"What's wrong with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You kept interrupting me earlier. What, were you worried I might get too close to him?"
Ezel loosened his tie and shook his head.
"He definitely seemed like a man with strong willpower… but if you ask me whether he can actually seize power, I'm skeptical. Think about it. He's the leader of the largest party in parliament, yet he couldn't become chancellor. That means there's serious opposition holding him back."
"That's true."
"Honestly, most people—both us and the folks in Manhattan—think this is as far as the Nazi Party can go. To be blunt, I only came here to see if there was anything to gain."
"You funded Hitler?"
"Not me. My father."
Damn it—that's basically the same thing!
But Ezel didn't seem concerned at all.
"You know how my father reacts to Jews—he'd spit at the mere mention of them. He didn't invest much. Just a little pocket change."
"'Pocket change' from Henry Ford is definitely not the same as tossing someone five spare dollars."
"Relax. Plenty of people in Washington D.C. have taken that same 'pocket change.'"
Yeah… I have no idea anymore. This rich family is seriously stressing me out.
"Let me ask you something. Why are you so wary of him?"
"Because I fought and nearly died in French trenches. How am I supposed to look kindly on someone who openly talks about tearing up the Treaty of Versailles?"
"He's just another common agitator. A figurehead propped up by Germany's conservatives after losing public support. He'll whip people into a frenzy with nonsense, and when the time comes, they'll toss him aside."
…Was that it?
Was that why Hitler could rise so easily?
Amid everyone's indifference and underestimation, a great evil was quietly spreading its roots everywhere.
"Ezel."
"Yeah?"
"I disagree. It's already too late to stop him."
"…That actually makes me nervous coming from you."
To reclaim everything Germany had lost, there was only one path—
War.
World War II had already been foretold.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/