Fat Man and Little Boy

"Are these... even real numbers?" Shtal clicked his tongue in disbelief. Less than half a year after debuting on the market, the stock price of SFW Chemical Company America had surged by a staggering 500 percent. Needless to say, the shares listed on the Austrian market had skyrocketed by a similar margin. In the blink of an eye, the assets of SFW Chemical Company had quintupled!

When good news breaks in the semiconductor industry, it isn't just the blue-chip giants like Samsung Electronics that rally. All the subsidiary and related stocks take turns surging in tandem—often with far more dramatic swings in their share prices.

"Damn it! I've been reading Nuclear Assassin since chapter one... Why didn't I think to invest in SFW?"

"Are there any other nuclear energy stocks out there?"

Nuclear fission was a technology that had only recently been discovered. There was no way other nuclear-related stocks could possibly exist yet. Left with no other choice, investors scrambled to find alternatives.

"We have no choice. Just buy bonds!"

"No way. Bonds barely move at all."

"Then what are we supposed to buy?"

"Just buy literally any company run by Shtal!"

The next stock to surge after SFW Chemical Company was, bizarrely enough, the aviation division of the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative. Following that, the stock prices of the entire Austrian market began to rise in a domino effect, completely escaping Shtal's control.

But the investors' brainstorming didn't stop there.

"Wait a minute... There's no law saying we have to buy nuclear stocks, right?"

"Then what?"

"Who made Nuclear Assassin? I heard Shtal wrote the scenario himself."

"...Wittgenstein Show & Movie! They're the ones who produced it!"

Starting with Wittgenstein Show & Movie, an astronomical amount of capital flooded into film production companies, distributors, and even the publishing industry worldwide. One must never underestimate the sheer imagination of retail investors diving headfirst into the New York Stock Exchange. Did they really need to think before investing? They were already far too tired for that!

"Hey, I heard you made a fortune on stocks this time. What on earth did you buy?"

"Oh, I just bought shares in any company that had a German-sounding name that looked pretty."

"...What?"

"This time I bought Daimler, and the returns are quite sweet."

"You lunatic, Daimler is a British company!"

At this point, as long as you bought a company with a German-sounding name, your money ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠practically duplicated itself! Buying shares based on the future of nuclear fission was, at the very least, a somewhat rational investment. Physicists had foamed at the mouth trying to dissuade the public, but even those very scientists admitted that nuclear fission might become a reality 'in thirty years.' Yet now... shareholders were buying absolutely anything. It seemed utterly absurd, but that was the nature of the era.

From January 2010, as the financial crisis began to recover, until February 2020, the NASDAQ rose roughly fourfold. Unfortunately, the KOSPI barely budged. But this was the 1920s, an era where people struggled to trade stocks over the phone, let alone through a home trading system. From the end of the Spanish Flu in 1920 to the Great Depression in 1929, the US stock market surged sixfold. Imagine the KOSPI jumping from 2,000 to 12,000 in a single decade.

This is insane. This is literally on the level of the Dot-com bubble.

Shtal had resolved to drain the pockets of American investors, but even he had never anticipated a market rally of this magnitude.

We're screwed! At this rate, we're going to take a direct hit from the Great Depression ourselves!

Having received private economics tutoring from none other than John Maynard Keynes, Shtal could easily deduce what would happen next. Feeling a strange mix of anxiety and awe, he looked at his wife and business partner, Margarete.

"My original plan was to liquidate all our investments into cash somehow... but far more money has poured in than I ever anticipated."

"Hmm... really? Why not invest it in Asia?"

"There's that, but we still have to appease our investors first."

Margarete pondered for a moment before speaking nonchalantly, as if it weren't a difficult problem at all.

"But darling, you really do have a talent for this."

"Huh?"

"I read the German edition, and it was incredibly entertaining. What were you thinking when you wrote that?"

"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"

"I'm serious. Why not expand our cultural businesses a bit more? I don't know if it'll make money, but still."

An expansion... To be honest, he hadn't created the story with such grand ambitions. Truth be told, he had just thrown random ideas together. He had never dreamed it would become this successful. Yet, there were plenty of ways to milk this cash cow. There was even a famous legend from his past life that when Dragon Ball was nearing its end, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Japanese Minister of Education personally begged the author not to stop. In the era of mass media, how many thousands of livelihoods could a single, well-crafted piece of creative intellectual property support? And Shtal had lived through the golden age of mass media. Whipping up related ideas was child's play for him.

"Walt! Stop staring at those comic books and please go outside to meet a girl or do something productive!"

"Aw, come on, Mom! Just one more chapter!"

"I'd rather you go to a casino or even a brothel! This is just pathetic..."

Walt Disney's mother clicked her tongue in exasperation as she looked at her son. He was at the age where he should be dating and working, yet here was a grown man staring at comic books until his eyes turned red. Despite his mother's nagging, Disney could not tear his eyes away from Nuclear Assassin.

"S-Shtal... how on earth did you create such a masterpiece?"

Ever since he had fallen down the rabbit hole of Nuclear Assassin, even his way of speaking had grown bizarre. Needless to say, he had also gained over ten kilograms.

Unable to contain his overwhelming emotions, Walt Disney let out a strange, guttural roar.

"Kuaaaaahhh!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Ultimately, his mother delivered a swift, stinging slap to his back. Only after shedding a few tears did Walt Disney finally snap back to reality.

Walt Disney looked around his room. Normally, he would have been working on a children's animation with his friend, Ub Iwerks... but he had blown through all of their investment capital. On what? Nuclear Assassin merchandise!

"Shtal, you absolute demon. Your marketing tactics are downright criminal!"

Shtal had released an astronomical amount of merchandise related to the franchise. Action figures were just the baseline; there were board games, trading cards, and more. Of course, those wouldn't have been a problem. Unless it was a rare item like a first-edition volume or a copy signed by Shtal himself, they were relatively easy to obtain. But the real issue lay elsewhere.

"To sell all of these through a blind-box gacha system?! Just how money-mad are you, you bastard?!"

Muttering to himself in a bizarre tone that sounded like a cartoon character, Walt Disney threw his comic book aside and collapsed onto his bed.

"Ugh... I wish we lived in a society where comic enthusiasts like me were respected. They obsess over baseball players and celebrities, so why do they only look down on us? Hehehe! I wish I were Austrian."

Shtal had unleashed a toxic plague upon America. Perhaps he had introduced something far more terrifying to the world than actual nuclear weapons.

Instead of going out to find a job, Walt Disney spent his days deeply engrossed in "thinking" (otherwise known as daydreaming). Soon, his friend Ub Iwerks came to visit.

"Yo!"

"Ah, Mr. Iwerks! You've arrived?"

"Oi, oi, Mr. Disney. Have you laid your eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upon the newly released spin-off volume?"

"Blast it! They released a new volume without informing yours truly?! What is it this time?"

Instead of answering, Iwerks rummaged through his bag and pulled out a book. The words Nuclear Assassin: School Life were emblazoned on the cover.

"A high school spin-off this time?"

"Oi, oi, that's not all. Look at this. Ta-da!"

Iwerks flipped through the pages, stopping at a leaf so worn and tattered it was hard to believe he had only bought the book three hours ago. It showed Lena, the childhood friend of the protagonist, Nuclid, wearing nothing but a swimsuit.

"Yeeeee-haw! T-This is incredible...! S-Surely, there must be a t-t-trading card of this, right?"

"You bet! This esteemed self has already spent over twenty dollars to pull it!"

"T-Twenty dollars?! Do I need to go do manual labor? No, wait. Mom! I need some money!"

After receiving a swift kick from his mother that carried the weight of her absolute despair, Walt Disney was kicked out of the house. He had no choice but to wander the streets aimlessly.

"Sigh. I want that Lena swimsuit card so badly."

"You need to get a job. Isn't there any illustration work?"

"I'm not as good at drawing as you are, nor can I draw as fast."

"Well, you never know. Why don't you try applying to Wittgenstein Show & Movie?"

"Huh?"

"You know a thing or two about animation. Just imagine it—Nuclear Assassin being adapted into a movie."

Walt Disney pictured the agile Nuclear Assassin leaping between skyscrapers. A live-action film would be great, but there were clear limitations. Even if they poured an astronomical budget into it like the legendary masterpiece Metropolis, some things simply couldn't be done. In particular, the Nuclear Assassin's ultimate move, the 'Hiroshima Beam,' was utterly impossible to replicate in live-action. Furthermore, the villains, Fat Man and Little Boy, were depicted as a five-meter-tall giant and a ninety-centimeter dwarf, respectively. No matter how advanced makeup and special effects became, it would inevitably look ridiculous.

Drooling slightly as he fell deeper into his daydream, Disney began to see visions before his eyes, as if he were Joan of Arc receiving a divine revelation.

"Hey! Disney! What's wrong with you all of a sudden?! Did you eat some rat poison?"

"...Only I... Only I can do this..."

"Snap out of it! Do you want me to give you my Lena swimsuit card?"

"...! Only I can perfectly adapt Nuclear Assassin onto the screen. Will you come with me?"

"Huh?"

"Let's make a Nuclear Assassin animation together."

In the original timeline, Walt Disney was remembered as a warm, fatherly figure. In truth, however, his inner psyche had been deeply warped. He had suffered through an incredibly impoverished childhood and abuse from his father. Moreover, having enlisted in World War I at a young age for money, he had spent his youth loading countless corpses into Red Cross trucks, which severely traumatized him. Perhaps his obsession with creating such warm, cheerful works was, much like Goebbels' own drives, a pathological fixation on the things he had never possessed.

But Shtal had altered history. Thanks to the massive economic boom during World War I, Disney's family had enjoyed a decent, if not lavish, standard of living. Naturally, Walt Disney had never fought in the war. Consequently, he might have ended up as nothing more than a pure, unemployed slacker who simply loved comics. Yet, genius does not fade so easily. Just as Goebbels had adapted to become a brilliant entrepreneur of marketing and public relations in this timeline, Walt Disney would carve his name into history—not as a pioneer of children's cartoons, but as a genius of youth and teen animation.

"Mr. Disney, what on earth are you blathering about? Besides, I already have a job at a studio."

"We can draw Lena more beautifully than anyone else! You can draw a far better swimsuit card than the official one, can't you?"

"Well, that's true, but..."

"Fine, suit yourself. I'm heading straight to the Wittgenstein office. Once I get there, something will work out. If Shtal doesn't hire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a passionate fan like me, then he's blind."

"...Hey, wait up! I'm coming with you!"

The sky was blue, and the two young men, completely devoid of a concrete plan, marched up to knock on the doors of Wittgenstein Show & Movie. The HR department was utterly bewildered when two young men—one slightly chubby and the other rather petite, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Nuclear Assassin villains, Fat Man and Little Boy—burst in with wild, manic eyes. And yet...

"When Nuclid swings his blade like whoosh, the skyscraper gets sliced clean in half like shuck! Kaboom!"

"And then, the next scene?"

"A perfect smoke effect rises, and amidst the crumbling debris, a pair of crimson eyes gleams in the dark!"

"And their identity is..."

"Naturally, it's the father of Fat Man and Little Boy—Tojo-Truman!"

Swept up by the sheer, hypnotic passion of the two men who loved Nuclear Assassin more than anyone else on Earth, the company executives and staff found themselves completely spellbound.