Chapter 72: Omen (9)

“Big bro, what’s this painting!?”

“It’s Schönbrunn Palace in the capital. Do you like it?”

“I love it! Can I buy it from you… please!?”

“Well, my paintings aren’t exactly cheap.”

“…Oh. Then never mind… Sorry. Father and I don’t have much money… I’ll just get it later…….”

Hitler looked down at the disheartened boy with sparkling eyes and offered a brilliant smile.

“My paintings aren’t bought with money.”

“T-then…!?”

The boy looked up at him, wide-eyed with anticipation.

Soft light streamed through the old, cracked window.

Bathed in it, Hitler spoke with theatrical charm.

“They’re bought with heart.”

“With heart…?”

“That’s right. As long as you believe in me—cheer me on, that’s enough.”

“Then I will! I’ll cheer for you, Adolf Hitler!”

“This painting of Schönbrunn Palace is yours now.”

“Thank you!!!”

The boy burst with joy, parading the painting around the room.

Soon, the other children swarmed around Hitler, eager to claim a piece of his art.

With a grin, he unfolded the canvas portfolio holding all his work.

As cheers erupted, the children became entranced.

“…You don’t meet many young men with such a sincere heart these days.”

“That’s his strength,” Eva replied quietly.

For a moment, silence lingered between them as they prepared dinner for the children.

“Ah, wait! I meant Adolf! Not ‘that man’…!”

“Heh, it’s fine. Eva, you’re at that age. You’ve found a good man.”

“N-no, not yet… He hasn’t—w-well, he hasn’t officially proposed or anything…”

Blushing furiously, Eva peeled the potatoes even harder.

Father Johann found comfort in her reaction.

The Eva he had known since childhood wasn’t like this.

She had always hidden behind a mask,
rarely opening up to anyone.

But now…

She’d opened her heart—to Adolf.

‘…Not a single flaw.’

Though their time together had been short,
Johann had seen all kinds of people in his life.

And he could see Adolf Hitler’s nature at a glance.

‘A man with a heart purer than any I’ve ever known.’

Someone who helped Eva without expecting anything in return,
who gave the fruits of his labor freely to children—
all with genuine warmth and no sign of fatigue.

Artists were usually… difficult.

But Adolf treated others with unwavering kindness.

‘…If only he could become a priest.’

For a brief moment, Johann imagined Adolf as his successor.

But he quickly dismissed it—
the idea was unrealistic,
and more importantly, Adolf had his own path.

Johann couldn’t let his selfish wishes block a young man’s future.

“Um… Father?”

“What is it?”

“That promise I made as a child… is it still valid?”

Blushing, Eva glanced between Adolf and Father Johann.

The priest paused, recalling her childhood words.

‘Please officiate my wedding.’

That’s right—

Whether it was to a foreign prince, a noble heir, or someone to revive the Wallenstein family…

She had once asked him to officiate the ceremony.

With a gentle smile, Johann nodded.

“Of course. If you truly decide to marry Adolf, I’ll be honored to officiate.”

Tears pricked his eyes.

That once-little girl had grown up—
and now wished to marry a kind, promising young man.

“Father, are you crying again?”

“…Peeling onions, you know.”

“That’s a potato.”

***

“You want to put up headstones?”

“Yes. Miss Eva’s father and brothers deserve at least that much, don’t they?”

Eva wanted to place proper gravestones too.

But she had no money.

Even after searching the yard all day,
none of her hidden treasures could be found.

She was truly broke now—
a far cry from silver-spooned Adolf.

“But still…”

“Sis! Listen to Adolf! He’s amazing! Everyone in town knows his name now!”

“Ugh…”

Maybe it was his natural bond with animals and children,
but the orphanage kids had quickly taken to him.

“But…”

“I understand what’s on your mind.”

“You do?”

“Look at the children. Don’t they seem healthier lately? Look at their clothes—aren’t they wearing nice things?”

“Wait… you don’t mean…”

Adolf nodded and pulled out his pencil.

“In Innsbruck, Adolf Hitler is the Kaiser of the Night Streets.”

It sounded silly—
but it was true.

As the once-unknown painter “H,”

Hitler’s still lifes, portraits, and landscapes had become a local hit.

Sheep, shepherds, slobbering dogs—
his ultra-realistic animal paintings were especially popular.

Alpine vistas and rustic scenes were transformed into works of art
and converted into donation funds for the orphanage.

“How much for this painting?”

“My paintings aren’t sold for money.”

“…Then how?”

“Make regular donations to the orphanage at St. Paul’s Church.
My work goes only to those with generous hearts.”

He’d created a patronage model—
a long-term support system for the orphanage.

Hitler wasn’t planning to stay in Innsbruck forever,
so he set up something sustainable.

Simply selling art wouldn’t have much impact.

And locals wouldn’t spend much money on art.

But donations?

People felt better giving to charity.

He understood people.

He believed in their kindness.

Johann only then grasped the depth of Hitler’s vision.

‘…This young man will become someone great.’

Hitler worked day and night painting for patrons—
but never rushed.

Every piece held his soul.

“Could you finish it a bit faster?”

“No. My work must have soul.
I won’t hand over half-hearted mass-produced sketches.

That’s my creed—and I’ll never compromise on it.”

Those pledging over 100 crowns monthly received special paintings.

“Oh my goodness… this is my dog Josef, who passed away recently!”

“Even my brown poodle, Meyer, is here!”

“Sniff… Heinrich, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there…”

He painted vivid scenes of beloved pets running through Innsbruck’s meadows.

Sometimes from photographs,
other times from memory—
but always strikingly accurate.

After countless drawings of mysterious monsters—angels, really—
his animal portraits had become astonishing.

“Why won’t he eat the bone I brought!? Why…!”

The paintings were so realistic that elderly patrons with dementia
would cry while offering them treats.

“This… this is real?”

“This orphanage is now one of the wealthiest places in Innsbruck.
They’ll be secure for at least ten years.”

“A-Adolf…”

Eva stared at him in disbelief—

“Mmmph!”

—and kissed him.

“Wha—hey, look at that!”

“Shh, Thomas. Let them have their moment.”

“Yeah, just let it play out.”

They didn’t know—

Father Johann had been working tirelessly to bring them together.

“E-Eva!”

“I have a confession!!!”

She blurted it like a machine gun.

Hitler was stunned.

“…Excuse me?”

“You—you feel the same way, don’t you!?”

But Hitler had no experience with women.

His first love had ended before it began—
his shyness too great to even start a conversation.

He’d known heartbreak before ever confessing.

“What are you trying to say…?”

“I—I want to… I want to…!”

“You want to…?”

“…Be friends with you!!!”

Unable to say what she really meant,
Eva fled the hallway and dashed out of the orphanage.

Hitler stared blankly after her, completely lost.

“Wow. He really didn’t get it.”

“Is Adolf… broken or something?”

“Should we go explain it to him?”

The kids gossiped deep into the night.