Chapter 15 – The Red (3)

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The capital of the Hanseatic Empire, Besthalm, is filled with an overwhelming number of factories.  

It’s a massive industrial zone.  

It could also be interpreted as the heart of the imperial family, a city where humans are ground up in the machinery.  

The factory chimneys spewed red smoke day and night, and the smog obscured even the sun, enveloping the city in a hazy shadow.  

To make matters worse, the smell of iron and oil pierced the nostrils, and the constant hum of machinery proved that the city never stopped running.  

Under the neon signs, people moved about like black shadows, their bodies covered in grease and fatigue.  

I, Wilhelm von Albert, the crown prince of the imperial family, ruled over all of this.  

The power and wealth of the imperial family were deeply entangled with this city, so much so that anyone who raised a voice of rebellion would disappear without a trace the next day.  

 

“What a mess. Looking at how this so-called country is running, I can’t help but feel nostalgic for the past.”  

Marx lamented as he gazed at the familiar scenery of the capital.  

“Damn it. Is there no one in this world who seeks change like me? At the very least, someone like my comrade Engels or Robert Owen should have appeared by now.”  

 

“The world doesn’t have the luxury for that.”  

I shook my head and replied.  

“The empire has sacrificed everything for technological advancement. It’s a tradition passed down since the days of the Sagwa Empire.”  

 

Engels slammed his hand on the desk.  

“That’s exactly the problem! Capitalists and Monarchs try to rationalize these issues by wrapping them up in the past, saying, ‘This is how it was back then,’ and claiming that change would bring chaos. That’s why the world is such a mess.”  

Engels shook his head. Then, he sighed and paced around a corner of the office.  

“You’re not the one who created this world, but you’re still an accomplice of this era. Don’t forget that.”  

 

Engels crossed his arms and glared at me.  

“I know.”  

I sighed inwardly and looked at the documents.  

For a moment, I recalled a memory from the past—the memory of borrowing the third book from the library.  

 

“888!!!! The 888 System!!! Kyaaa!!!”  

“Ah, I get it. Eight hours of work, eight hours of sleep, and eight hours of self-development, right?”  

“Yeah!!!!”  

 

Engels, mentioning the name of a man named Robert Owen, began a passionate speech about the so-called “eight-hour workday.”  

“That man was a capitalist with the face of a successful human being, even though he enforced an eight-hour workday! I may not agree with everything, but I can respect him for that!”  

 

At his words, Marx clapped and shouted.  

“He was also the first to mention socialism, making him even more special. He was a rare enlightened capitalist during the Industrial Revolution in England!”  

“Y-yes… I see.”  

 

While I could have brushed off their advice, I also felt that change was necessary.  

So, I took their advice and tried to implement a change.  

It was the so-called 8-8-8 system.  

 

“This is it. Capitalism is doomed to fail anyway. Especially in such an extreme capitalist world like this!”  

“As expected of our teacher! Kyahaha!”  

“Our bald friend is really sharp!”  

 

Lenin, too, seemed to adore Marx and Engels, fawning over them.  

In any case, as soon as I announced the implementation of the 8-hour workday, the workers began to cheer.  

 

“What? The crown prince himself introduced the 8-hour workday?”  

“As long as we meet the quotas, we only have to work 8 hours!?”  

“Wait… What happened to the 14-hour workday?”  

 

The workers were initially quite shocked.  

It was understandable—when someone who had been forcing 14-hour workdays suddenly proposed an 8-hour workday, anyone would be taken aback.  

But after about a week, the workers began to praise me, feeling immense satisfaction with the 8-8-8 system.  

 

“Guaranteed minimum wage, 8 hours of work, and 8 hours of sleep?”  

“What’s going on? Isn’t this the same guy who used to exploit us…?”  

“Is the crown prince different somehow!?”  

 

The workers welcomed the change, and the factories that implemented the 8-8-8 system saw a dramatic increase in efficiency.  

Not only that, but the accident rate among workers dropped to a decimal point, and the loss rate of skilled workers approached 0%.  

It was an undeniably successful situation.  

 

“Red power!!! Burn the cross and wear the red armband!”  

“F***ing God! Workers should believe in the crown prince, not God!!!”  

“Stand up! You too!”  

 

In the city, those who benefited from the 8-8-8 system began voluntarily supporting the crown prince, using their remaining 8 hours to organize rallies.  

 

“Why don’t we have that?”  

“This is depressing.”  

“There are plenty of people who’ll work even without you!? Shut up and pick cotton!”  

 

Of course, other factories and corporations refused to change.  

They simply replaced their workforce, still enforcing 14 to 16-hour workdays.  

 

When I reported this tremendous success to my father,  

“I have no son like you.”  

My father disowned me.  

 

And now.  

Overwhelmed by a sense of disillusionment, my office is filled with the sharp scent of alcohol.  

 

“Alright, alright. I can’t say I don’t understand. I admit it. I admit it. My father isn’t the type to like such things.”  

My father has always pursued perfection.  

A child raised on such ideals naturally lives for them.  

So I tried really hard.  

But it still wasn’t enough.  

 

“Sigh…”  

In this situation, all I can do is spend my limited time searching for more knowledge.  

More experience, more study.  

To achieve this, I had to be willing to immerse myself in war, and so I did.  

And it was there that I found the library.  

Not discovered, but found.  

It wasn’t that I was the first to discover the library, but since there was already someone—a witch—inside, it’s more accurate to say I found it.  

 

The books I found in the library came with two ghosts, and later, another new ghost joined them.  

“Hey, bourgeois. Why do you look so dead? Do you have the time for that?”  

A man with a distinctive round beard—Marx.  

“Tsk tsk. More importantly, when are you going to introduce a reasonable perspective on labor for other workers?”  

A man with a thick, downward-pointing beard—Engels.  

“That’s right! Kekeke!!!”  

And a newly joined bald man—Lenin.  

 

These three individuals introduced themselves as “communists” and began offering me their advice (?).  

“Don’t you get it? The workers of the world must unite!”  

“Stand up! If you do, you must rise as well—that’s communism!”  

“Capitalism will self-destruct!!! Uga uga ukiki!!!”  

 

With the red circus troupe now complete, I had to endure their loud shouts, the only solace in my office being alcohol to keep my sanity intact.  

 

Marx’s heavy breathing filled the room.  

He straightened his disheveled beard and glared at me leisurely before sharply saying,  

“Have you heard of dialectical materialism?”  

 

I flinched under his gaze and awkwardly replied,  

“Materialism what? What’s that?”  

“What?”  

He let out a scoff and shook his head.  

“Sigh… You don’t even know the basics. How depressing. I’ll have to teach you again. No wonder you can’t unite the workers of the world! You’re just being swayed by capitalists and Monarchs.”  

 

He began explaining, drawing circles in the air with his finger.  

As if everything in his mind was already perfectly organized, his words were concise.  

“Listen.  

This starts with Hegel’s dialectics… You don’t need to know who Hegel is, so let’s skip that. In short, it’s a theory that analyzes the development of thought.”  

 

He gestured as if drawing an imaginary chalkboard in front of me.  

“Simply put, every idea starts with a ‘thesis,’ which contains inherent contradictions. When those contradictions reach their peak, an ‘antithesis’ is born.  

The ‘antithesis’ is the opposing idea that negates the ‘thesis.’ And ultimately, the clash between the ‘thesis’ and ‘antithesis’ creates a ‘synthesis.’ The synthesis is a new idea, representing the progress of the era.”  

 

His eyes were filled with tension, as if the world would end if I didn’t follow his explanation.  

I nodded, trying my best to understand.  

“So… in the end, the ‘synthesis’ becomes a new ‘thesis,’ and this cycle repeats endlessly, right?”  

 

He smiled with satisfaction.  

“Exactly. That’s the prelude to infinite revolution. However, communism is a bit different.”  

But his explanation didn’t end there.  

He took a step closer, his expression as if he wanted to engrave his worldview into my mind.  

 

“But I’ve presented a more accurate theory based on Hegel’s ideas.  

The progress of an era isn’t just driven by thought—material comes first.  

Material shapes thought, and that becomes the driving force of society. This is what I call ‘materialism.’ Material is the essence of everything.”  

 

I quietly asked, mulling over his words.  

“So, in the end, the world runs on money and capital, right?”  

He nodded and sighed heavily.  

“Exactly. Capitalism is the ‘thesis’ formed by material. In the era when feudalism was the ‘thesis,’ capitalism emerged as a reaction to it. And when capitalism became the ‘thesis,’ socialism emerged as the opposing idea.”  

 

I cautiously interrupted him.  

“Then, the next stage for the Hanseatic Empire is…”  

As I tried to voice my conclusion, he cut me off sharply.  

“Don’t spout nonsense. I’m not done yet.  

Anyway, not every society flows into capitalism.  

The Hanseatic Empire has a unique form of ‘thesis,’ where feudalism and capitalism are intertwined.  

It’s not like the United States of Greater America, which embodies pure capitalism.  

But remember, capitalism isn’t perfect either.”  

 

He narrowed his eyes and added gravely.  

“Capitalism inherently contains contradictions.  

Specifically, it inevitably leads to brutal competition and wealth disparity.  

When those contradictions grow, socialism emerges as the opposing force.  

And socialism is like a relative trying to resolve the contradictions of capitalism.  

But even socialism can’t be perfect.  

Eventually, socialism reaches its conclusion and moves toward communism as the ‘synthesis.’”  

 

At his words, I felt doubt.  

And I countered his logic.  

“But is communism really possible? Socialism and communism seem to have such different directions…”  

 

He frowned and glared at me.  

“You damn fool. What have you been learning all this time!?  

That’s why you’re just a stagnant noble-in-waiting! Communism aims for a classless society where all resources are collectively owned and classes are abolished.  

It’s not about rejecting private property entirely, but about the state controlling production and ensuring that workers produce what humanity needs.”  

 

He paused for a moment, then nodded and continued.  

“Of course, ideally, that’s the goal. In reality, it might seem like an impossible dream. But what’s important is the process of moving toward that dream.”  

 

I shook my head.  

“Th-this can’t work!”  

“What the hell have you been listening to all this time? You’re the one in power!!!”  

“N-no—”  

 

*Clap clap—!*  

At that moment, the bald man clapped to draw attention to himself.  

“Hmm…”  

Lenin, who had been quietly listening, stroked his chin and began to speak.  

“I’ve done it.”  

“Huh?”  

“What?”  

 

Marx and Engels looked at Lenin in confusion.  

“Masters, it might sadden you, but I’ve done it. I created the first communist state!”  

“…Huh.”  

“That worked?”  

“???”  

 

As Marx and Engels made surprised expressions, Lenin looked a bit flustered.  

“Well… I made it work, didn’t I?”  

“Oh. You believe in this?”  

“No, this ideology is just a theory, after all. The scenario of a capitalist state collapsing was closest to reality in the Russian Empire before we died.”  

“I’m from that country.”  

 

The moment they heard that, Marx and Engels’ eyes lit up noticeably.  

“…So the Tsar finally fell?”  

“Even there, under capitalism! It finally collapsed. So, did capitalism self-destruct?”  

Lenin shook his head.  

“No? We just slaughtered the imperial family and started a red revolution.”  

“”???””  

 

At that moment, Marx and Engels widened their eyes in shock.  

And I witnessed true madness.  

“When they said, ‘Do communism? Nah, I don’t wanna~,’ I chose to kill the Tsar instead of giving a long, tedious, and pretentious answer with 100% room for debate.”  

“Uh…”  

 

In other words, I was now looking at someone who had actually chosen “Then die” in front of the thinkers who had been preaching the self-destruction of capitalism.  

I was looking at someone who had killed an emperor.  

 

“Alright. Tell us how you did it. Go on.”  

Marx sighed and asked.  

“Yes!”  

Lenin proudly declared his creation of a massive communist state.  

“In Russia, we started a revolution, which is an utterly ordinary part of daily life. And we wiped out the entire Tsar family to eliminate their lineage. Heheh!”  

 

He then began explaining the birth of the Soviet Union, along with the Red and White Civil War, detailing the founding process.  

“It’s just a pseudo-feudal state.”  

“Right?”  

 

What communism aimed for was completely absent, and instead, it was just the Russian Empire painted red, with a one-party communist dictatorship.  

In other words, I was witnessing the complete dismissal of the socialist and communist theories I had been learning.  

 

Of course, Lenin, who had been roasted with comments like, “If you were going to do this, why even start a revolution, you bald bastard,” fell silent.  

In the end, I was left with nothing but disillusionment.  

 

“I want to go to the library.”  

Do I have to go again?