Prologue: "Gentlemen, I Like War."
Today too, I muttered famous lines from works of fiction while throwing myself into my favorite hobby.
Everyone has at least one hobby. Games, sports, anime—whatever. I had mine.
"You really like Germany that much? They're a war criminal nation."
"Look properly. What I like is Bismarck-era Germany, not the Nazis."
"Hah, what's the difference..."
Even my friend of ten years eyed my hobby with disdain, but nothing could shake my love for Germany.
The Empire was simply too captivating. Orchestrator of great powers, victor in diplomacy, arbiter of Europe—every grand title fit it to perfection. It was a hobby more engrossing than any other, and I sometimes wondered if my Germanness came before even my patriotism.
Of course, I had no love for what came after. Wilhelm II, the so-called Bill the Disaster, was hands-down the worst emperor imaginable. A stupid, obtuse, perverted old fool who ignored every scrap of advice from his loyal chancellor Bismarck—that was my take. And don't get me started on the mustache. The villain who branded honorable Germany as war criminals in history's memory.
"Pfft, pretty harsh, huh? Should I buy it?"
My daily escape was devouring alternate history novels about Germany. But most fell flat. Nearly all were set in the Nazi era, leaving precious few from the time I craved. The occasional ones about the Kingdom of Bavaria made for decent reads, though.
"Time to crash."
After blowing most of my part-time wages on web novels, as the clock crept toward 3 a.m., it was lights out. Closing my eyes, my mind wandered to fantasies: Like in all those Germany novels, I knew plenty about the country—what if I possessed some figure from that era and steered it the way I wanted? Just idle daydreams, of course. Thoughts are free.
And so, college student Seo Joo-hyun, utterly obsessed with Germany, spread his wings of imagination once more and drifted off to sleep.
Bang!!
Thud!
"…Agh!"
A deafening blast exploded right by my right ear. Clutching the ringing ear, I winced and toppled over. Had the shock knocked me off the bed? Slowly, I cracked my eyes open.
But this wasn't my cramped studio apartment. The room sprawled across a wooden floor several times larger, complete with a roaring fireplace. Dazed, I scanned my surroundings—then spotted the pistol in my hand.
"Uwaaak!"
I flung the gun away. A guy who hadn't even done his military service handling a pistol? Fat chance. No clue how it ended up in my grip. Only that the thunderous noise had come from this.
I tried to stand.
"Ugh!"
Pain lanced through me when I moved. Sharp agony in my right thigh, to be precise.
Clunk!
"What happened… Good God! Joachim! What have you done now?"
A Western man with an outdated side-part and patchy mustache snatched the pistol from my hand in a panic.
"No, that's…"
"Quiet! You're not right in the head. Wife runs off, and you don't even think of your son—Karl Franz?"
Wife ran off? Son? Karl Franz? My head throbbed. Unmarried, childless, pre-military 21-year-old Korean college student—what the hell was this?
I blinked a few times. He let out a heavy sigh and stormed out.
I rose quietly.
"Something's wrong."
Clutching my churning gut, I staggered to the window. Sunlight gleamed off the glass, reflecting my face.
Deep double eyelids. High nose bridge. Faint mustache, and blue eyes. No Korean features here.
"No way…"
A face I knew all too well. Tentatively, I covered my mouth—the reflection matched the young Wilhelm II I'd seen so often.
What had he called me? Joachim.
Wilhelm II had seven children. Six sons, one daughter. And his youngest son's name:
Joachim von Preußen.
If I was right, I'd become the German Emperor's youngest son.
That too, after the defeat.