Chapter 8: Icarus (1)
Translated by Vine | Proofread by Lust
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At this time, Maybach was hailed as the “King of Design,” his fame reaching even France, the land of snail-eaters and frog-leg-munchers. Honestly, the French were the most… no, the Russians were… no, the British were… I didn’t want to realize why Germany would fall like this. There were enemies everywhere.
Count Zeppelin had managed to summon such a prominent figure. Wow. A Count’s title wasn’t just for show. Sure, he was an old man who’d poured all his money into his dream, assembling his airship on a lake because he couldn’t afford land, but his connections were undeniable.
“You’re a young man with impressive business acumen.”
“Ha. Hahaha.”
Me? Business acumen? Why?
“The Count is a trustworthy man, except for his habit of pouring all his earnings into his airships. The rearview mirror patent negotiations will go smoothly.”
“Who wouldn’t trust the Count? I’m not even twenty yet.”
“You’re fortunate. Good connections are a blessing.”
I played along, unsure of what he meant, and thankfully, Maybach seemed pleased with my response.
A patent? For the rearview mirror? Isn’t that… obvious?
Come to think of it, current automobiles couldn’t easily accommodate rearview mirrors. They didn’t have roofs. I calmed myself and thought. Get it together, Jo Beom-seok. Why didn’t you think of this easy money-making technology?
I showed him my prototype aircraft again, explaining each part. “Mirrors for both sides and the rear. And a fourth mirror here. To maintain visibility without turning my head while looking forward.”
“To see the two propellers, tail, and engine.”
“Correct. And it’s crucial to be able to adjust the mirrors while seated. This would be very convenient in automobiles as well.”
“Hmm.”
When automobiles were first developed, rearview mirrors and side mirrors weren’t necessary. The roads were empty, the cars slow. Collisions weren’t really “accidents.” But the number of vehicles was increasing, and cars were getting faster. And the man at the forefront of engine development, which provided this speed, was Maybach.
The lack of roofs was also an issue. Now that engines were more powerful, roofs were desirable, but they obstructed visibility. Yes. The era of the rearview mirror was coming. But the foolish soldier mindset of Jo Beom-seok still couldn’t shake the thought, “Would this really make money?” Such ignorance.
Rearview mirrors and side mirrors didn’t require sophisticated technology or specialized mirrors. Even with a patent, it would be easy to circumvent… Oh? Easy to copy? General Jo, you understood this dirty capitalist society quite well. Experience truly mattered.
As if reading my thoughts, Maybach nodded. “Of course, I’m here because of this mirror. Count Zeppelin, having received the rights from you, has commissioned me to build your airplane engine in exchange for the mirror system patent.”
“So that’s how it is.”
“Do you regret it?” He looked at me sharply.
But I, Armin Rosenbaum, wasn’t naive enough to be swayed by an engineer’s probing question. “Hahaha. Of course not.”
“Why not? You could earn substantial royalties.”
“Would anyone respect a patent submitted by a penniless, unknown Gymnasium student with no connections or status? That would be foolish.”
“Hmm.”
Being an automobile tycoon wasn’t my goal. If I wanted that, I should have been born earlier. Germany alone had Daimler, Diesel, Maybach, and the Benzes. France had Peugeot, Renault, and Michelin. Even if I joined the fray, Ferrari, Maserati, Citroën, Porsche, Rolls-Royce, Bentley, and Ford were all on the horizon. Could I handle competing with them? Me?
If it weren’t for aviation, I might have taken the challenge, but not now. “The Count is far more experienced than I am. He understands that a light and powerful engine is crucial for flight. If a renowned engine designer like yourself creates the heart of my airplane, I’m happy to relinquish those uncertain rights.”
“You pass. As you said, the patent officer could sell the design. Even if not, imitations are inevitable.” He smiled faintly and patted my shoulder.
All I had was Count Zeppelin’s favor. And his favor was based on our shared madness for flight.
If I clung to the rearview mirror for its potential profit, well, Maybach might just crack my skull open with his cane. The Count’s favor could vanish just as quickly. Such poor judgment wouldn’t have earned me stars in the cutthroat world of the South Korean military.
“You’re not just driven by youthful ambition, but you also understand the world. Alright, let’s build an engine that will turn your ambition into reality.”
“Thank you! I appreciate it!”
“I’m also looking for a lunatic… I mean, pilot… for that airplane. I’ll send him over soon.” I bowed repeatedly, displaying the manners of a well-behaved young man, and saw him off to Berlin.
Now, what was left for the great aviation pioneer, Armin?
Challenge: 100 Days of Warrior Training.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck. Lord. Christ.”
University entrance exams.
Many events transpired between 1899 and 1900.
The Spanish-American War ended in an American victory. Spain was left battered, a living testament to America’s growing power in the New World.
Queen Victoria of England turned eighty, proving her remarkable longevity. England, true to its nature, celebrated by launching the Second Boer War.
In France, the president died of a stroke while engaged in passionate, naked wrestling with his mistress in his office. The French right wing attempted a coup during his funeral, but failed. Tsk tsk. That’s not how you stage a coup.
Meanwhile, in the great German Empire, the trademark for Aspirin was registered. This clearly demonstrated which country was contributing to world peace and human welfare. Except for Kaiser Wilhelm, who constantly spouted nonsense, Germany was a land of peace.
And what was I doing?
“No, no!!”
“Count, you must stay strong.”
“This can’t be happening. It can’t be! Those damn Prussians!”
“Countless people across the country are supporting you. Your efforts haven’t been in vain. We can fly!”
I stayed by the side of Count Zeppelin, whose morale had crumbled, as he lay in bed.
LZ 1.
Luftschiff Zeppelin – the Zeppelin airship.
July 2, 1900.
Witnessed by over ten thousand people, the airship, built with hundreds of thousands of marks, embarked on its historic maiden flight.
But LZ 1’s flight was plagued by misfortune.
A winch broke during the ascent. Leaks sprung. Strong winds damaged components during repairs. After hasty repairs and a resumed flight, water contaminated the fuel tank. With water in the fuel, the flight was aborted.
On October 20th and 24th, LZ 1 attempted two more test flights. But on the 20th, strong winds overwhelmed the engines, forcing another abort after twenty minutes.
Zeppelin’s airship was much faster than other airships of the time, but the German military callously declared it impractical. The Count was virtually bankrupt. No one wanted to buy LZ 1, and the company’s shareholders refused further investment. The only option left was to dismantle LZ 1 and sell its parts. But here was the problem:
In the future, Count Zeppelin would be a respected figure in Germany, his name gracing a warship. And during World War I, Zeppelin airships would serve as weapons, bombing England. The Count wouldn’t give up. He would eventually succeed. So, instead of abandoning him, I chose to stick by his side. Investing in a guaranteed winner was the obvious choice.
“Rosenbaum.”
“Yes, Count.”
“I can’t offer you much help anymore. Why don’t you leave like the others?”
“Because we will fly.”
I answered without hesitation. His hand, holding mine, trembled violently, then tightened. “I’ll entrust my dream to you as well.”
“Count.”
“You’ll succeed. You’re young and capable. I don’t know when I’ll die, but-”
“You’re not going to die. You’ll bounce back.” Why was he always talking about dying? He had a hearty appetite, eating three meals a day. Even that loser I knew devoured sweet potatoes in solitary confinement. Was this a universal habit of embarrassed old men?
I comforted the Count like a geriatric caregiver and left his room. My tongue was sore from all the pep talks. “Mr. Rosenbaum, you should eat now.”
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“I’m fine.”
“I’ve set aside a portion for you. Mother prepared it.”
“Thank you very much.”
“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for Father.”
Honestly, I had a splitting headache and wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t refuse a prepared meal. I had to eat. So, I found myself at the dinner table, flanked by the two sisters, Helene and Erna Zeppelin.
As a charmer, born with the curse of good looks, I couldn’t be oblivious. Frankly, where would they find a better son-in-law? Look, the portion of meat the Countess had given me was 2.5 times larger than my first meal here. This clearly indicated immense favor.
But I couldn’t just accept it. In this class-conscious German Empire, marrying above one’s station was a taboo. Even disregarding that, a Count without a son would be particularly concerned about his daughters’ marriages, and for the upper class, the head of the family’s opinion mattered more than the individuals involved. Even if the Count went mad and offered me his daughter, I had to refuse at least three times. Marrying me would cost them their noble status? I couldn’t handle the consequences. A caterpillar should stick to pine needles.
“I heard the airplane is almost finished.”
“Yes, that’s right. The Count has been a great help. For his sake, I plan to conduct the test flight this year.”
“You’re not going to pilot it yourself, are you?”
“The Count said he wouldn’t sponsor me if I did.”
The sisters giggled. I was serious, though.
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