Chapter 5: Bad Guys
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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Let’s talk about the 19th-century Prussian education system. It differed quite a bit from the American 6-3-3 system (6 years elementary, 3 years middle, 3 years high school). This decentralized nation had its own unique charm… or so I’d like to claim. But add the prefix “19th-century,” and you get a taste of the horrific class-based social ills.
I had just graduated from a 4-year elementary school. Next came the 9-year Gymnasium. Then university. To compare it to the Korean system with its various academic tracks, the 19th-century Gymnasium was like a specialized high school for the elite. However, since many Gymnasiums were private schools for training theologians and clergy, their curriculum focused more on musty Latin and Ancient Greek than on cutting-edge science and technology or foreign languages. Think about it. Those were subjects for the struggling middle class to master, while the upper class could just dabble in the humanities.
Since Germans of that time weren’t exactly airheads, criticism of the Gymnasium system was rampant. Remember, Germany was also the land of Marx.
Yet, Bruno was adamant about putting me on the Gymnasium express track. Why? Because only Gymnasium graduates were eligible for university. Hmm. Not “like” a social ill, but a social ill itself. A correction is in order. The first Gymnasium for girls in Germany opened this very year, 1893. Just one. There were none before. Hmm. The 19th century was something else.
There were ways to enter university without attending a Gymnasium. For instance, graduating from a law-focused high school granted eligibility for law school, and a technical high school for engineering school. But considering connections and social prestige, the Gymnasium was the way to go.
So why was I trying to skip grades in this already demanding Gymnasium? Until recently, I’d naively thought I had ten years until 1903 when the Wright brothers would invent the airplane.
But then I realized it wasn’t ten years.
“Armin, are you going to Gymnasium?”
“Of course. With these grades, where else would I go?”
“There will be lots of kids from noble families who have private tutors. Do you think you can keep up?”
“Ha. I’ll outshine them all.”
“Wow… Then you’ll be an officer in the military, too?”
“Huh?”
At that moment, it hit me like a church bell to the head.
Military.
Military!!
Yes. Three years of mandatory military service in the legendary Prussian Army awaited!
I had to invent the airplane before I got dragged into the military, by any means necessary. Only then could I enjoy the sweet life.
Upon entering university or graduating from Gymnasium, one could apply for a one-year officer program, similar to the Korean officer candidate school. Instead of slogging away as a regular soldier for three years, you served as an officer for just one year. I had to take advantage of this. Frankly, since Jo Beom-seok had wasted his life in the military, shouldn’t I get an exemption or something similar as compensation?
Damn it. A three-star general serving as a regular soldier? I might actually commit suicide.
Even Bismarck, the Iron Chancellor, had tried everything to avoid military service in his youth but was eventually drafted. I understood him. I didn’t want to eat army food again!!
Therefore:
- Get good grades and skip grades in Gymnasium.
- Study aircraft design alongside the regular curriculum.
- Enter university early.
- Dedicate all remaining time to building an airplane.
- Become the first to invent the airplane, earn the title “Conqueror of the Skies,” and gain immense fame.
- Convince the Prussian military of the airplane’s value and secure a cushy military life in exchange for cooperation on military aircraft development!
- Get discharged safely, build an aircraft business, and make a fortune.
That was my grand plan. There might be questions like, “How will you build the engine?” or “Where will you get the money?” or “Will it actually work?” but I’d figure it out as I went along.
Even if I didn’t get the “first” title, it didn’t matter. With this future knowledge, I could at least become a leader in the early aviation industry.
No matter what anyone said, the Wright brothers were American. And between America and Europe lay the vast Atlantic. Even if I invented the airplane first, the Wright brothers would build their aviation business in the New World. And even if they invented the airplane as in the original history, Europeans, including myself, would develop our own aviation industry here. It was obvious. Would imperialist nations like Britain, France, and Germany hand over an entire industry to foreigners? They would use tariffs or anything else to support their own industries.
Still… prestige was irresistible. I reaffirmed my resolve and adjusted my school cap.
Oh, right. They didn’t have uniforms here, but they did have school caps. Prussia, which had turned the entire country into a military barracks, didn’t have proper school uniforms. It was baffling.
Wearing it felt like I had one of those corruption-ridden military berets on my head. Those never fit right. It soured my mood.
“A-hem. Oh, the weather is lovely today.”
“Indeed. Shall we have a picnic in the park?”
“Yay! Picnic!”
“Haha, shall we?”
“I’ll pack some food.”
Peace had returned to our home. It felt ridiculous to say it myself, but I’ll repeat it. Peace had returned to our home. No, wait. It hadn’t existed before, so it hadn’t returned, but rather, arrived for the first time.
My father’s domestic violence had ended. Whether it was because I’d physically restrained him a couple of times, or because I’d somehow become a therapist and helped him unpack his emotional baggage, he no longer resorted to violence.
He’d come home drunk and raised his voice a few times, but the moment I emerged from my room, he’d clam up and quietly retreat to the bedroom. Perhaps the 19th century was truly an era where strength ruled.
And… Mom had suddenly brightened.
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If I were a clueless child, I would’ve been overjoyed, thinking, “Dad’s not hitting anymore, so Mom’s happy!” Sadly, I was a Gymnasium student who knew too much. I was no longer a naive elementary school kid.
“Open your mouth. Ah-.”
“Ahh-.”
“You’re healthy. No problems. How’s Gymnasium?”
“It’s fine, except for the boring Latin.”
I didn’t know what to say about Dr. Hermann Epenstein. His mother was Catholic, and his father was a Jew who converted to Catholicism to marry her. In Prussia, even Catholics were heavily discriminated against. Bismarck had openly persecuted Catholics for twenty years, claiming they were disloyal, pledging allegiance to the Pope instead of the Kaiser. Add to that Epenstein’s 50% Jewish heritage, and this man had lived a life far more challenging than mine.
“I’m planning to purchase a castle soon. I’ll invite you over during the holidays.”
“A castle? Wow! Doctor, you’re amazing.”
“Hahaha. Thank you. It’s almost a thousand years old, so it needs major renovations, but that’s part of its charm.”
Whether he inherited it or earned it himself, this man… was rich. Our Rosenbaum family was comfortable, but this man was a real estate tycoon, buying castles on a whim.
I learned through his constant attempts to befriend me that he was a huge medieval enthusiast. He was planning to fully furnish his castle in the style of the Frankish Kingdom or the Holy Roman Empire after the renovations. Unmarried, wealthy, indulging in his hobbies, living as he pleased. It was a life many would envy.
“I want to build a flying machine.”
“Oh, that’s impossible. People obsessed with that are all crazy.”
“Don’t you know Lilienthal? He flew.”
“He’s remarkable. But that’s just a toy.”
“I know a surefire way. If you invest a little, I can make it fly.”
“Hahaha! You cheeky brat!”
If I couldn’t smack this guy upside the head and yell, “You trashy womanizer! Taste my axe of justice!”, I had to at least get some money out of him.
I tried to be friendly, but I just couldn’t.
“Your mother would be sad. Stop thinking such nonsense and focus on your studies. You have a family to protect.”
“That’s true.”
It wasn’t simply because I held anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic views or anything like that. Jo Beom-seok’s intuition, honed through decades of dealing with all sorts of people, told me that Hermann Epenstein was a dangerous man.
According to General Jo’s theory, the most dangerous type wasn’t the one who caused trouble, but the one who caused trouble and acted self-righteous about it. Why was this man, having an affair with a married woman, trying to befriend her son? Should I kill him? And above all, this guy… had shifty eyes. Sometimes, when he dropped his friendly facade and glanced at me, he observed me with a chillingly emotionless expression, like a psychopath. It made my alarm bells ring.
Then, one day, our family was invited to a “small” gathering.
“I’m delighted to be with such dear friends. I’ve organized this gathering to celebrate the brief return to Berlin of my close friend, Heinrich Ernst Göring.”
“Göring. I’m currently serving as consul in Haiti.”
As a child, I wasn’t involved in the adult conversations, so I was with the other kids. Göring seemed to have robust… well, something, as he had a whole brood of children. But many were in Haiti with their mother or scattered elsewhere, so there weren’t many children present.
However, I was particularly interested in one tiny baby. “Goo goo ga ga. Hello there, little one?”
“Waaaah!!”
A baby born just this year. Dr. Hermann Epenstein was the godfather and namesake of this child: Hermann Wilhelm Göring.
Perhaps I was wrong, but I was certain. “Are you interested in airplanes, too?”
“Wah?”
Ah, it’s you.
I should befriend him.
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