The Politician Who Hates Politics

If an emperor has ruled an empire for fifty years, every single one of his actions is bound to be political.

"He's telling us to keep our heads down," Archduke Franz Ferdinand muttered. "We need to watch our step for a while."

"Indeed," Stahl replied. "It is time to loosen the reins a bit. Besides, we have a mountain of other issues to resolve."

Why had the Kaiser ordered Archduke Franz Ferdinand to oversee Archduke Otto's treatment?

'To show respect to the imperial family, no doubt.'

It was a demand to acknowledge that all of his political authority stemmed from the dignity of the dynasty and the imperial house. It was a command to show that he could protect that authority himself. In other words, it was an indirect way of telling them to prove they were on the same team.

But that wasn't all.

"He is also preparing to put another crown prince in place should the need arise," Franz Ferdinand added.

"Isn't Archduke Otto a bit too... problematic to be made crown prince?" Stahl asked.

"Of course he is. But he has a son, does he not?"

No matter how much Archduke Franz Ferdinand fell out of favor with the imperial court, Archduke Otto would never ascend to the throne as the next Kaiser.

Otto was just as famous among the public as Franz Ferdinand—perhaps even more so. He had made his debut in the yellow press years before Franz Ferdinand ever did. Long before Franz Ferdinand started his charity work in the slums, Otto had been showing his face directly to the masses. Compared to the perpetually tired and prickly-looking Franz Ferdinand, Otto was remarkably handsome and well-groomed. On paper, he seemed like a vastly superior version of his brother.

The only problem was that almost all of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Archduke Otto's public appearances were made entirely in the nude.

So, who was the next successor in line?

'Karl I, the last emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.'

Though he was only fourteen years old right now, things would be very different if he had a powerful backer.

"No matter how much of a wild card Archduke Otto is, he is a perfectly viable placeholder until Archduke Karl reaches adulthood," Stahl noted.

"Besides, didn't the Kaiser grant Otto military command?" Franz Ferdinand said. "Otto knows full well he's out of the running for the throne. Honestly, even if you offered him the crown, he'd probably reject it."

"But his son becoming Kaiser is a different story."

"Exactly. It's a contingency plan to keep me under pressure."

In any case, if the Kaiser was actively dangling this "alternative" in front of them, they had no choice but to keep a low profile for the time being.

Dr. Landsteiner, who would administer the penicillin and monitor the patient's progress. Dr. Freud, who would manage Archduke Otto's madness. Along with myself and Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Austria's own Avengers had assembled.

"Once we administer the penicillin, you should begin to recover, Archduke," Dr. Landsteiner said.

"I see. Dr. Landsteiner, was it? Once this syphilis is completely cured, there's no risk of further infection, right?"

"Once cured, the scars may remain, but you will no longer be contagious. However, there is always a risk of reinfection."

"Thank goodness. If I couldn't have women, I'd probably end up killing myself like my cousin."

Dr. Landsteiner, who was in charge of the treatment, was momentarily speechless. Archduke Franz Ferdinand and I both facepalmed at the sheer absurdity of his words. Only Dr. Freud's eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, as if thinking, 'Hehehe, a brand-new subject for my research?!'

"...As for matters related to that, Dr. Freud here will be handling your consultation," Dr. Landsteiner stammered.

"Ah! The promising neurologist everyone's talking about lately."

"It is an honor to meet you. I am Sigmund Freud."

"I have a feeling you and I are going to get along famously. Aren't you the one who's absolutely obsessed with the sex drive?"

"...The fundamental driving force of all human life is indeed the psychosexual urge."

"Bwahahaha! Exactly! I knew we'd get along!"

Even while hovering on the brink of death from syphilis, Archduke Otto's colossal libido was keeping his will to live burning bright. Was this how he had managed to cling to life for years despite contracting what was supposed to be an incurable disease?

My first impression of him was simple.

'I have no idea how a human being ends up like that, but he certainly is a jovial character.'

He had committed countless scandals, possessed glaring flaws, and was thoroughly unhinged, making him utterly unfit to be Kaiser. Yet, I had heard he possessed a natural charisma and a magnetic, extroverted personality that made him wildly popular despite his madness.

'And apparently, he was quite well-regarded within the imperial family too.'

Emperor Franz Joseph I hadn't given them this task for nothing. It was a thinly veiled threat: 'If you step out of line, I will back Archduke Otto and place his son, Archduke Karl, on the throne.'

"Now then, I would like to have a private word with His Imperial Highness," Freud said. "If everyone else could please step outside."

To facilitate the psychotherapy session, Otto and Freud were left alone, and the rest of us stepped out of the room.

"Your Highness," Stahl asked Franz Ferdinand. "What kind of man is Archduke Otto, really? Your staff office was transferred directly under him. Is he someone we can work with?"

"...Otto is a born politician. A politician who hates politics."

"A politician who hates politics? What do you mean by that?"

"His head is filled with nothing but thoughts of how to peek under the next skirt. There isn't a single shred of political ambition in his entire body. And yet, despite living like that, people naturally flock to him."

He was entirely harmless, yet in a way, the most dangerous kind of person. It was only because he was so thoroughly mad and suffered from severe manic episodes that he remained at this level. If Archduke Otto had been sane, Franz Ferdinand might have found himself completely sidelined long ago.

And so, we ended up staying for dinner at Archduke Otto's estate. It was at the dining table that we met a certain young boy.

'Karl Franz?'

He was the last emperor of the House of Habsburg, the boy who would one day be known as Karl I. He was the tragic Kaiser who ascended the throne just before the empire's defeat, desperately struggling with every fiber of his being to save his crumbling realm until the very end.

My first impression of him was...

"Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and esteemed doctors, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to you all for saving my father," the young Karl said. "It is a modest table, but I could not let you depart without offering some hospitality. Thank you for accepting my invitation."

Was this boy really only fourteen? What on earth had I been doing when I was fourteen? I was probably sitting in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back of a classroom, giggling and talking about video games.

Franz Ferdinand, representing our group, also greeted him with the utmost respect, treating the young boy as if he were the head of a household.

"My dear nephew. It is only natural for family to help one another, yet your gracious hospitality leaves me deeply moved."

So far, I had only met three members of the imperial family. A Kaiser with obsessive-compulsive disorder who lost his mind over a crooked tie. A radical, uncompromising socialist of a Crown Prince. And his younger brother, an absolute sex addict who defied all comprehension. They were a trio of utter disasters. It was a truly tragic family tree.

Having observed these three, I had lost all expectations of royalty and had begun treating them as mere ordinary humans. Despite the glorious aura of the House of Habsburg, which had ruled Europe for six hundred years, dignity was a quality that seemed entirely absent from them.

'Is this what they call blue blood? The boy practically radiates grace and majesty.'

Based on that grace and majesty alone, he seemed far better suited for the throne than Franz Ferdinand. On the other hand...

'He looks more like a Pope than a Kaiser.'

From then on, I frequently visited Archduke Otto's estate alongside Freud, and I found myself keeping a close eye on young Archduke Karl.

In truth, Archduke Karl and Stahl mostly exchanged polite, distant greetings whenever we crossed paths. Honestly, what personal matters could we possibly discuss? We were just a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doctor treating a mad father and the patient's son. And so, several months passed in this awkward state.

"...To be frank, I couldn't care less about being Kaiser or any of that nonsense," Archduke Otto sighed. "Do you know why so many members of our family commit suicide, Dr. Freud?"

"Would you care to enlighten me?" Freud asked.

"Because there is no love. I have never felt loved by my family. Not once. Not a single time!"

Having finally regained his mobility, Archduke Otto sat in an armchair, conversing with Freud.

"Is that why you engage in such... eccentric behaviors?"

"I don't even know myself. I simply cannot help it."

"Then, could Your Highness's notorious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠womanizing also be related to—"

"No, that's entirely different! I just love women! I absolutely adore them!"

"..."

In any case, Freud had miraculously succeeded in treating Archduke Otto! Of course, his insatiable womanizing and innate temperament were beyond even Freud's ability to cure. However, his most egregious antics—such as parading naked through luxury hotels or riding horses at breakneck speeds through narrow streets like a man bent on suicide—had ceased entirely.

Although Freud's methods would eventually fall out of favor in the twenty-first century, they were remarkably effective by the standards of 1901. Perhaps it was because the society of this era was so stiflingly repressed that countless people developed mental illnesses simply because they had no one to confide in.

"My dear Stahl," Freud said. "As my disciple and the co-author of The Interpretation of Dreams, I must tell you: simply giving voice to the repressed thoughts of the mind can bring about immense improvement in a patient's condition."

"...And this actually works?"

"Indeed. Of course, since the patient themselves does not know what they are hiding, it requires the guidance of a physician, dreams, and the unconscious mind."

Both Freud and Stahl were deeply impressed by the visible improvement in Archduke Otto's condition. In particular, Stahl, who had previously dismissed psychoanalysis as mere quackery, found himself looking at Freud in a whole new light.

"Professor, to be completely honest, I used to think psychoanalysis was nothing but pseudo-scientific nonsense."

"It is not surprising that you felt that way, Stahl. You are an anomaly. You have an unnaturally clear mind with almost nothing hidden, and no repressed desires to speak of."

"...Is that so?"

"Yes. If everyone in the world were like you, I would indeed be a charlatan."

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to build a world like that."

"Indeed. On that note, would you be willing to assist me with my next book?"

Stahl had planned to focus solely on his scientific research for a while, but this time, he readily agreed. Of course, he would still have to make a token appearance at the Social Democratic Workers' Party event on May Day, and continue to oversee the development of District 16 and the expansion of their research institute.

Ever since the commercialization of penicillin in 1900, Stahl had spent over a year constantly drawing public attention and stirring up controversy. Helping Freud with his research seemed like an excellent way to divert some of that spotlight and lie low for a while.

'I need to start my next project anyway. Perhaps it's time to look into nitrogen fixation.'

As Freud and Stahl sat in the audience chamber of Archduke Otto's estate, quietly conversing, young Archduke Karl—with whom Stahl had shared only distant greetings—suddenly walked in.

"Your Highness, what brings you here...?" Stahl asked.

"Ah, please, remain seated. There is no need to stand."

To Freud and Stahl, who were staring at him in surprise, Archduke Karl bowed his head—offering the highest sign of respect a member of the imperial family could bestow.

"...I wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Your Highness! We only came here on the orders of His Majesty. There is no need for you to thank us."

"No, it is necessary. Regardless of what brought you here, you have saved my father's life. It is thanks to the penicillin developed by Director Stahl that my father is alive today."

Though Stahl tried to stop him several times, Archduke Karl remained steadfast, keeping his head bowed.

"Though I am only fourteen, as a Habsburg, I am not blind to politics. I am fully aware of my position."

Perhaps Archduke Karl and the Stahl faction would one day find themselves as enemies. After all, weren't both sides tied to potential successors to the throne? Emperor Franz Joseph I had brought them together precisely so they would keep each other in check, biting and clawing at one another.

"...That is true, Your Highness. Even if you do not wish for it, the people around you may have other ideas."

Moved by Karl's earnest gratitude, Stahl spoke his honest thoughts. He realized then that Archduke Otto's family was truly a household of politicians who hated politics. The father, Archduke Otto, possessed natural leadership but was too obsessed with women to ever involve himself in statecraft. And what of his son, Archduke Karl? Unlike the sharp, calculating Franz Ferdinand, Karl was a gentle soul, far too warm-hearted for the cold world of politics. Yet, it was that very warmth that would inevitably draw people to his side.

"Indeed. Whether I sit upon the throne or not is not my decision to make."

"You are correct, Your Highness."

"But before we are Kaisers, and before we are Habsburgs, are we not all equal sinners before Christ? ...I will never forget this debt of gratitude."

Karl bowed to Stahl once more. Quite unexpectedly, Stahl had earned the lifelong gratitude of the future emperor.