The Harlot of Moscow
The corridor outside the plenary session hall leading toward the capitol building was absolute pandemonium.
"Where is the harlot? Huh? Where is the whore who sold Germany to Moscow!"
"Right-wing trash with not even an ant's speck of humanity! Once the revolution begins, the enraged people will sweep every last one of you away!"
"Oh dear, how terrifying! How dare these reds—who shield the weak, tarnish the purity of the nation, and shout about their fake liberation—threaten anyone?"
"When our party members mobilize, we'll crush the communist bastards like a handful of dust!"
"You lot can't even raise your voices without clinging to the authority of those noble bastards, yet here you are running wild?"
The young legislators from the National People's Party and our own side fell into endless verbal warfare the moment they stepped out of the assembly chamber.
"Don't listen to them. The people outside are on your side. Let's get you out of here quickly."
In the midst of the chaos, Representative Pieck carved a path for me. I was already being jostled from all sides among the various party members, unable to tell one from another, so I had no other choice.
"Yes, I suppose..."
"There she is! The communists' precious 'princess' has arrived!"
But these bastards just wouldn't stop—
"Ignore them, Heinz."
"Look, the princess is crying! Why aren't you rushing over to comfort her?"
"Heinz!"
"It is a disgrace to Germany that a low-class woman like her sits in the same chamber as me! Remove her from the political arena at once and send her back to whatever factory she crawled out of!"
"You are the low-class ones! You're the real disgrace, with your bird-brained logic and empty heads! You aren't politicians—you're nothing but cultists following your mustached cult leader!"
"What did you say?!"
A National People's Party legislator grabbed Thälmann by the collar.
"Want to fight, you red?"
"A wet-behind-the-ears kid like you is picking a fight? Fine by me!"
Another communist who had approached from the side seized the man's head and slammed it into the ground. What had begun as shouting inevitably erupted into a full-blown brawl.
"The dogs of Moscow are throwing punches wildly!"
"Shut your mouth, you fascist pig bastards!"
The legislators on their side, dressed in proper suits, traded blows with our side—men who hadn't even bothered to change out of their work clothes.
"These traitors to the nation...!"
"Kill the butchers!"
The fight flowed somewhat in our favor. The mainstream noble legislators of the National People's Party had already fled, giving us the numerical advantage. Many of our communists were men who regularly clashed with the police and feared nothing.
Hitler...
"Everyone cease this at once! If you do not stop fighting, we will remove you by force!"
had already vanished somewhere.
Only when the parliamentary guards finally appeared did the overheated atmosphere begin to cool.
"Please refrain from physical altercations within the parliament. Both the National People's Party and the Communist Party are asked to exit in an orderly fashion through the designated gates."
"Let go of me. They started it—"
"There are no exceptions for National People's Party members. Refrain from causing disturbances in the parliament."
"Serves you right, you right-wing scum!"
"Communists, do not provoke the opposing side. We request that you maintain order while exiting."
In the end, the representatives and I left the parliament building, and outside...
it was hell.
"What the hell is going on? Why are they fighting?"
"R-Representative Thälmann! We've been waiting!"
A young man with blood streaming from his head ran toward us, shouting.
"There was a group that cheered and supported that Hitler bastard when he insulted Representative Heinz!"
"What?!"
"Who were they?"
"Representative Heinz...! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, so tell me. Who were they?"
My body ached, but the fury boiling up inside me more than compensated for my exhaustion.
"I don't know. A few of them had mixed in with our people, but it was impossible to tell them apart."
"Did those bastards spark the fighting in the crowd?"
"They openly chanted Hitler's name and hurled insults at Representative Heinz alongside him. Then they started swinging clubs at anyone who protested!"
"My God..."
"There are all kinds of lunatics out there!"
Thälmann made no effort to hide his rage, raising his voice.
"But it looks like it's already over...?"
"They were loud, but there weren't many of them."
"So you're saying we won?"
"You have to choose your opponent and the location carefully before jumping in."
That... was true enough. Hundreds of people had gathered after hearing the news about me, coming to show their support.
The situation had already been brought under control. The square in front of the parliament, which had been roaring with cheers when we first arrived, was now eerily quiet—perhaps because of the earlier brawl.
Less quiet than the feeling after a storm has passed...
"I can't believe they would stoop to something so vile. The National People's Party are nobles who value honor above life itself. For them to do this?"
"From the way they spoke, it doesn't seem like they were sent by the National People's Party..."
"Then who else would have sent them? Hitler? That man is nothing but a figurehead. There's a real power behind him."
"The National People's Party would prefer to mobilize their own private troops to control the masses. They wouldn't resort to crude tactics like this."
All sorts of theories flew back and forth until someone said,
"We captured one alive. Let's interrogate him."
"Oh? Good. Let me see the bastard's face."
The man lay sprawled on the ground, one arm nearly broken.
"Is this him?"
"Yes, Representative Thälmann. Most of the others were beaten to death or fled."
"Then this one probably beat plenty of innocent people to death himself."
"I'll handle the interrogation, Thälmann."
Now that my anger had cooled somewhat, reason was beginning to return.
"...Are you sure you're up to it?"
"I'll manage."
Thinking back on it now, maybe it wasn't worth getting so furious about... like hell it wasn't. I still wanted to rip that bastard's head off and grind it to pieces—
"Hey."
Damn it, I needed to vent somehow.
"Hey!"
I nudged the fallen man's head with my foot, and he seemed to regain consciousness.
"Khh..."
"What are you laughing at? Lift your head."
"Are you another lackey sent by the communist reds...?"
"I'm Heinz, you son of a bitch. The same Heinz your master called a whore. That's me."
This bastard couldn't even recognize my face.
"Aha, so you're that whore for the communists."
"Enough. Who sent you?"
"Shouldn't women go home and do some sewing?"
"I'm asking the questions. Are you deaf? Who sent you? What was the goal?"
"We aren't spineless like you red scum— Aaaargh!!!"
When he kept spouting nonsense, I twisted the arm that already seemed broken. Yeah, that had to hurt.
"I never understood why the far right loves killing people but hates the idea of dying themselves."
He had screamed enough, so I grabbed his hair again.
"Who. Sent you?"
...No answer.
"No answer? Guess it doesn't hurt enough yet."
"Heinz!"
Thälmann stopped me as I prepared to twist the arm again and grind it into the ground.
"It doesn't look like he'll talk. Why don't we leave him and go? The other representatives and uninjured citizens have already gone with the Social Democrats to help transport the wounded."
As Thälmann said, the square had emptied out, leaving only the two of us and this wretch. Bloodstains covered the ground everywhere.
"...I see."
Count yourself lucky.
"Wait. Let's at least take his uniform. We might be able to learn something from it."
"Ah, good idea."
So Thälmann and I stripped the uniform from the man and left him lying in the street. Someone would eventually pick him up.
"It really doesn't seem like the work of the National People's Party."
That evening, at the Communist Party headquarters.
"But if not the National People's Party, what organization would even be capable of pulling this off?"
"No. The National People's Party is built entirely on aristocratic capital and aristocratic authority. They'd dismiss an act like this as vulgar and distance themselves from it."
"That does make sense."
"But you never know, Emilia. That Hitler fellow who rants about the nation and hegemony ultimately came from the National People's Party."
"That's exactly what I find the strangest part!"
Although the National People's Party was a broad conservative party, it wasn't the kind of party broad-minded enough to embrace this new strain of far-right extremism.
At least, not the National People's Party I remembered.
And Hitler...
"No matter how I look at it, he doesn't seem like the type who would fit in with the National People's Party...?"
In my previous life, Hitler had made quite a name for himself. Warmonger, the Holocaust, and countless other massacres. But at least in that history, there had been a separate party—the Nazis—distinct from the National People's Party.
"In the end, they're all conservatives. Honestly, what's the difference between the ancient power those noble bastards in the National People's Party cling to and Hitler's claims about German superiority?"
"...That is true."
"So did you look into this?"
Hans lifted the uniform he had brought earlier.
"Nothing. No National People's Party logo, no eagle emblem, nothing at all."
"Hmm..."
The uniform was torn and ragged in several places. A uniform...
"Why would they be wearing uniforms?"
"Isn't it obvious? Because that Hitler bastard put them up to it!"
Konrad shouted, but the problem was that this remained nothing more than suspicion.
"That's conjecture, not evidence. Besides, Hitler wouldn't have the authority to systematically create a military organization like this."
"Since when did the right wing care about authority?"
"On the contrary, for the right wing, authority is more important than life itself. To deceive the masses and keep power in the hands of that narrow few, what could matter more than authority?"
"Did that man look like someone who cared about authority?"
"...Not particularly."
The Hitler I had seen earlier had seemed more like a rabid dog, but...
"What is this?"
A swastika symbol, tilted at a precise 45-degree angle.
Rip—
"Hey, why are you tearing it? That's extremely important..."
Ernst shouted at Hans, who had suddenly torn the uniform further.
"There was some kind of pocket-like empty space that wouldn't open, so I ripped it a little and the whole thing came apart."
"What is it?"
What lay inside was a '卐' symbol rotated at forty-five degrees.