Chapter 71: Omen (8)

“Germany must never start a war! Have you forgotten the humiliation in Morocco!?

If we go to war now, we’ll be fighting on two fronts! Every great power will turn their guns on us, you fools!”

Kaiser Wilhelm II was sternly scolding his ministers.

‘…Isn’t it the Kaiser himself who’s constantly raising tensions?’

The ministers tilted their heads in confusion, but the Kaiser paid them no mind.

His head was more like a flowerbed than that of a monarch or soldier.

He believed that both he and his German Empire were entitled to every advantage, that compromise was unacceptable.

The global order should revolve around Germany, and other powers should bow before its majesty.

To threaten war without actually waging it—
to extort concessions from neighboring nations by bluffing.

That was Kaiser Wilhelm II’s strategy.

“You summoned me, Father?”

“Luise. Thank you for coming. Truly, you’re the only one I can count on…
If only these blockheaded Junkers were even a little like you! Let me tell you what just happened…”

The Iron-Blooded Witch, Luise, let her father’s rambling complaints go in one ear and out the other.

“…And so I emphasized peace!
Germany must not start a war! After a great war, what will be left for the German people but ruin!”

Luise scoffed at her father—the pitiful, crippled Kaiser—and his pathetic grasp of diplomacy.

While he clung to peace, she was plotting a Great War that would cull hundreds of millions of Europeans.

Peace?

How laughable.

Was this really the leader of a militarist empire?

She half-wished the Kaiser would just start a war already and trim down Germany’s population.

That would make her plans easier.

‘…Unidentified monsters tend to appear in densely populated areas.’

Dr. Max Planck’s hypothesis had proven true.

For the world to regain stability, population reduction was the only option.

She needed to divert the monsters’ focus toward the slant-eyed Orientals of the Far East.

That would buy Europe time to prepare.

Population decline was inevitable.

There weren’t nearly enough witches worldwide.

Though they were securing funds from capitalists and bourgeoisie globally to research mass-production of witches,
the demonic power of the Lemegeton wasn’t something just anyone could wield.

Worse still—
those piggish bourgeois men demanded the witches’ bodies.
There were limits to how long one could refuse.

Those pigs—tearing them apart wouldn’t be enough.

She didn’t care how many died, or how they died.

She didn’t care if Germany fell.

She would buy time at any cost.

Otherwise, the world would fall to the monsters.

For the greater good,
the German Empire could burn.

She had no intention of remaining some mere princess.

She was the future head of the Witch Federation.

The Iron-Blooded Magical Girl.

The one chosen by Her.

Smiling faintly in her father’s arms, Luise already had her next move planned.

She knew exactly where to light the fuse in Europe’s powder keg.

Serbia.

***

Less than half a day by rail from Vienna,
Innsbruck was a city where the center held grand old buildings and mansions,
while the outskirts stretched wide with pastures and old castles.

The moment they arrived,
Hitler instinctively began sketching the panoramic view of Innsbruck.

“What do you think?”

“…Your hometown is truly beautiful, Miss Eva.”

The late autumn sky was overcast and threatening rain,
but it somehow enhanced Innsbruck’s beauty.

The Alps loomed tall, snow-covered, welcoming the pair.

Hitler’s gaze drifted to a distant sheep pasture.

He loved animals, after all.

The shepherds and their herding dogs were busy prepping for winter,
gathering the flocks into warm sheds.

Just watching it all warmed his heart—
so he captured the scene on canvas too.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s head out.”

The two rented Pedersen bicycles, wildly popular across Germany,
and began cruising down the hilly streets of Innsbruck.

Fresh air.

Cool breeze.

They took in the city.

“This way!”

Eva sped off, and Hitler pedaled hard to catch up.

But he couldn’t.

He was out of breath.

“…We’re here.”

They arrived at a wide, burned-out clearing on the outskirts of town.

Eva tossed aside her bicycle and ran inside.

“Miss Eva!”

Panting, Hitler followed.

“Hh-huhh… It’s been so long… I’m sorry, Father…”

Eva collapsed before a simple wooden cross,
clear tears streaming down her cheeks.

There were three crosses.

Three graves.

Her family…

Silently, Hitler approached and knelt beside her.

He gently placed a hand on her back and made the sign of the cross,
praying for peace over the souls buried there.

“Hhhk… hhhuhhhh…”

Eva leaned against his shoulder, sobbing harder.

She had thought she’d never set foot in her homeland again—
that she’d never get to mourn her father who had died by her own hands.

Hitler embraced her tightly.

…Flowers?

The graves had no headstones,
but were oddly well maintained.

Neat white chrysanthemums had been laid out.

Eva hadn’t noticed,
but someone had clearly been tending them.

“…Eva?”

A voice called from behind.

Eva stopped crying and quickly turned around.

“Father…!!!”

An old priest in shabby robes stood there, staring in disbelief.

Eva rushed into his arms.

“Father Johann…?”

“Eva, my poor child… Where have you been all this time…!”

Eva, who always tried to appear dignified and mature in front of Hitler,
now wept like a child in the priest’s arms.

The priest didn’t care that her tears and snot soaked his robe.

He simply held her and patted her back.

Hitler silently sketched the scene.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“…”

Eva eventually stepped back,
then suddenly grabbed Hitler’s wrist tightly.

“Miss Eva?”

She dragged him to stand before the priest.

“You must be Johann Krüger.
Did you help Eva?”

“Adolf Hitler, sir.
Rather than me helping her, it was the other way around.”

“That’s not true! Adolf… helped me.
He made it possible for me to come home safely…”

Still sniffling, Eva bowed her head and spoke in a tiny voice.

“You’re a good young man.”

Father Johann smiled kindly.

Hitler looked up at him with clear, sparkling eyes.

And then Hitler noticed what the priest was hiding behind his back.

White chrysanthemums.

The same flowers at the graves.

“…Thank the Lord.
When the entire Wallenstein estate burned down and you disappeared,
I feared the worst.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s enough now.
Knowing you’re safe… I have no regrets.”

The priest wiped away his tears with a wrinkled hand.

Hitler didn’t fully understand the relationship between Eva and Johann,
but he knew this man was on her side.

Johann looked at the three crosses and spoke to Eva apologetically.

“…I’m sorry.
I couldn’t even afford proper headstones.
The orphanage is in such poor shape we can’t spare anything.”

“It’s all right…”

Eva shook her head, wiping her tears,
having noticed the flowers in his hand.

“The orphanage is in bad shape?”

“Since the Wallenstein family’s support ended,
no other donations have come.

Aside from the small aid from the diocese, we’ve had nothing.
We don’t even have enough to feed the children tomorrow…”

Looking at Father Johann’s sunken cheeks and jutting cheekbones,
Hitler knew he was telling the truth.

He couldn’t ignore it.

‘In that case…’

The nameless painter of Vienna’s streets.
The once-unknown, soon-to-be-famous genius artist.

Adolf Hitler stepped forward.

“…Then I’ll take care of it.”