Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Dream of Flying in the Sky (2)
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Short-lived autumn had passed, and another winter arrived.
Unlike last year, which I spent at England's Sandringham House, I planned to pass this winter in Potsdam, just like the year before last—ordinarily.
However, at Princess Margarete's insistence that it was my own estate, after all, and I ought to visit at least once a year, I ended up spending the winter at Schloss Friedrichshof.
"Mr. Tesla, how's the radio research coming along?"
"Very well. Collaborating with that De Forest fellow has been a huge help. Where on earth did you find a guy like that, Baron?"
"Haha, I met him when I was in America."
As we chatted over coffee, Tesla posed the question, and I gave an awkward smile in response.
No way could I admit I'd learned about him from the future.
"By the way, getting tangled up with J.P. Morgan again like this... are you really okay with it, Mr. Tesla?"
"He's not meddling in my research like he used to. What's there to worry about?"
Tesla sipped his coffee nonchalantly, as if it were truly no big deal.
Then again, Tesla was the type who wouldn't bat an eye even if the U.S. President showed up, as long as it had nothing to do with his research.
"I heard you've invested in those young fellows building airplanes this time?"
I nodded.
The Wright brothers had accepted my proposal in a letter expressing deep gratitude for believing in them.
They added that it allowed them to further improve the Flyer I.
Most people would lose their heads and chase wild ideas with that much money in hand, but the Wright brothers were different.
It was a testament to how sincere they were about flight.
"According to the letter, they're conducting flight tests on the Kitty Hawk coast in North Carolina this December."
"A machine that flies through the sky... Impressive. Though it lacks the appeal of electrical engineering, of course."
Tesla spoke with the pride of a man who'd devoted his life to electricity.
"Aren't you going to watch the flight tests in person, Baron?"
"They asked me to come observe, but unfortunately, I'm too busy."
Part of me didn't want to endure another long Atlantic crossing by ship, but more importantly, the Russo-Japanese War was just around the corner.
Word had it that Japan had made a final offer to the Russian Empire: hand over Korea, and we won't bother you. Russia rejected it.
Instead, Russia countered: let Japan take south of the Korean Peninsula, make everything north of the 39th parallel a neutral zone, and split Korea.
Japan, unwilling to cede even a scrap of Joseon to anyone, naturally shot it down flat.
War was now inevitable.
'Vitte realized he has no more room to maneuver and sent word through me to keep his promise, no matter what.'
And Britain was in the same boat.
Did they realize I'd pitched the exact same proposal to both sides, just worded a bit differently?
I couldn't help but chuckle.
I hoped this wasn't turning into a bad habit.
A little time passed, and it was December 14, 1903.
On the beach at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, the Wright brothers gave the Flyer I one final check as they prepared for flight.
"Wilbur. Think we can fly this time?"
"The wind's perfect."
Wilbur Wright responded confidently to Octave Chanute—friend of the brothers, French aviation pioneer, and observer at the test alongside four safety personnel hired for any mishaps.
Just as Otto Lilienthal had proven, one wrong move could cost your life, but Wilbur felt no fear.
His mind was filled only with the thought of conquering the sky.
"We have to succeed."
"You will. You'll definitely fly."
The brothers nodded at Chanute's encouragement.
Years later, they would seethe at his betrayal and skip his funeral, but for now, Chanute was their steadfast friend and supporter.
"It would've been great if that baron who invested so much in us believing in us could be here for this test."
"Orville. Germany's far away. Can't be helped."
They'd only corresponded by letter due to the distance and hadn't met face-to-face, but Wilbur and Orville Wright were truly grateful to Hans.
Thanks to him, unlike their rival Langley—who'd poured over $50,000 into his flyer—they'd built the Flyer I for under $1,000 and could now afford better parts with Hans's funds.
'We have to repay everyone's faith.'
For Baron Hans von Choi, for Chanute, and for their family who'd supported their dream all these years—Wilbur vowed to fly today.
"Do great, Wilbur."
"Yeah. After slaving away in this backwater for three years, success is the only option."
The wind blew exactly as they wanted.
Of course, they'd chosen Kitty Hawk after countless surveys for that very reason.
"Alright, let's do this."
Wilbur flashed a thumbs-up at his worried little brother Orville, steeled himself, and climbed aboard the Flyer I.
Vroom~
The engine roared to life, and the Flyer I began rolling forward slowly.
As speed built, Wilbur pulled back on the lever, feeling the headwind.
Whoosh~
And in that moment.
The Flyer I's wheels left the ground.
Wilbur knew instinctively.
This was flight.
"Whoa~!"
"Success! Wilbur! We did it!"
24 seconds.
A mere instant, but thanks to Hans, the improved engine allowed the Flyer I to stay aloft twice as long as the original history's 12 seconds.
Wilbur landed safely, jumped down, and ran to Orville.
The brothers embraced fiercely.
December 14, 1903.
The Wright brothers had flown.
"Cough! Cough cough!"
Meanwhile, at the very moment the Flyer I succeeded, Waldersee—who'd retired from Inspector General of the Three Armies due to old age and stress and was living as Inspector in Hanover—lay in his villa bed, coughing incessantly.
"Cough! Damn this wretched body!"
Waldersee cursed his uncooperative flesh.
But he knew.
His life wouldn't last much longer.
Even at best, another year was unlikely.
'No. I can't go like this yet!'
Hans von Choi.
That damned chink brat who'd heaped every shame and humiliation on him was still alive and kicking.
Rumor had it he'd been jaunting around the world like hot stuff just recently.
Thinking of him made Waldersee's blood boil, triggering seizures at the drop of a hat.
His early demise was surely from the fury that boy had ignited.
"Urgh...!"
Feeling his hatred for Hans intensify, Waldersee forced himself upright.
He couldn't die yet.
Not before uprooting that venomous tooth in the German Empire and crushing it underfoot.
No—even in death, he'd drag the bastard to the afterlife with him.
Otherwise, he'd never rest in peace, even buried under God's grace.
All because of Hans von Choi!
"Cough! Cough cough! I have to kill him. Somehow, I must kill that bastard!"
Reason and rationality snapped by rage and senility, Waldersee muttered like a madman.
His mind held only the obsession to kill Hans.
"But how do I kill him?"
He questioned himself.
How could he eliminate that boy?
"Can't start anything in the palace, that's for sure."
Unfortunately for Waldersee, Hans clung to the palace like a parasite.
Even outside, he traveled with Prussian secret police escorts.
No room for rash moves there.
Success odds were slim, and if it worked, the trail would lead back too easily.
He wanted Hans dead, not to lose all his achievements and honor by getting caught.
It had to be covert.
"Killing him in Germany is damn near impossible."
His last shreds of sanity concluded.
But Waldersee didn't give up.
There had to be a way.
A way to kill him.
Then, something caught his eye.
The morning paper left by the servant.
He hadn't read it yet.
"Cough... Maybe the answer's right here."
A hunch struck him. With bony, wrinkled fingers, he slowly picked up the paper.
Creak─
And moments later.
Scouring the pages, Field Marshal Waldersee spotted an intriguing article and grinned like a third-rate villain.
"This... this'll do it."
Used right, he could kill Hans von Choi.
But not alone.
To pull it off, he needed a conspirator.
He first thought of Schlieffen, then shook his head.
That traitor had been under Hans's spell for ages.
There was reason he'd oddly shielded the boy since returning from China.
If Waldersee moved against Hans, Schlieffen would block him and protect the brat.
What about the Junker officers?
No, those idiots were unreliable.
Since his humiliation at the demonstration, they cowered in fear of the kid.
Entrusting them would doom the plan—or worse.
'Hire an assassin?'
Too risky with outsiders.
Besides, his scheme required someone inside the military.
Then, a face flashed in his mind.
"Right. Ludendorff. Erich Ludendorff. That damned fool."
The bastard who'd brought up submachine guns and made him suffer every embarrassment.
If Schlieffen hadn't stopped him, Waldersee would've killed Ludendorff or barred him from the army long ago.
But Schlieffen convinced him not to waste a capable staff officer over that, so he spared Erich Ludendorff's life.
Meaning Ludendorff owed him his neck.
Of course, Ludendorff—scarred by their entanglement—wouldn't see it that way, but Waldersee didn't care.
He'd use the man to kill Hans, regardless—threats if needed.
This was his only shot, with life's flame flickering low.
"If I can't kill him in Germany, I'll do it abroad...!"
On a battlefield, where unlucky deaths were most common.
Disguise it as enemy fire from behind, or declare him missing.
Waldersee knew battlefields overflowed with such pointless ends.
No one would suspect foul play if Hans died there.
Nor trace it to him.
"Hans, Hans von Choi. I'll prepare a grand stage just for you."
Waldersee cackled like a lunatic and set down the paper.
The folded article read:
[Herero Uprising Continues: German Southwest Africa Faces Native Revolt!]
The Herero War.
Later infamous as the Herero and Nama genocide—the first genocide of the 20th century.
Waldersee's counterattack had begun.