A Day in the Life of the Dashing Mr. Hitler

"Please, I beg of you, just let me rest for one day."

"What?! Director Stahl, you have no less than three scheduled events to attend today!"

"Exactly! It's going to be exhausting either way, so why can't I just take a single day off?"

"Aaargh! I—I—I...!"

Viktor Adler, who had been managing domestic affairs in Austria during my absence, looked practically half-dead. He was nearing sixty, which qualified him as an elderly man by the standards of this era. I felt a brief pang of guilt for overworking a senior citizen, but...

"Chairman Adler. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have the chance to be overworked like this. You'd probably have died while staging anti-war protests. Just bear with it a little longer. Isn't this the price of power?!"

"You cheeky young punk... You hold just as much power as I do, Director!"

"I am merely the managing director of the Stahl-Ferdinand-Wittgenstein Chemical Company, and a simple member of the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative. How could I possibly compare myself to a party chairman?"

"You absolute bastard!"

And so, having successfully wrangled a day of rest, I slipped away.

It was almost hard to believe a war was raging; the entirety of Vienna was swept up in a festive, carnival-like atmosphere. However, now that I was actually out, I realized I had no one to hang out with.

What about Hitler, my usual go-to companion?

"Where did Hitler go?" I asked a passing staff member.

"He took the Revolutionary Guard and is currently leading a parade of combat tractors in circles around downtown Vienna."

Of course. A triumphal ceremony and a grand parade would naturally be the ultimate hobby for someone like Hitler.

Left with no other choice, I trudged back to my residence for the first time in six months, only to find the house empty.

"Darling? Margarete?"

"Uh... Madam is currently fully engrossed in preparing for the film festival, sir."

Margarete was not only managing the Wittgenstein family's business affairs but was also highly active as a public relations advisor for the Social Democratic Workers' Party. True to the wild spirit of a woman who had once suggested flying all the way to Sweden on a whim, she possessed a natural genius for marketing and public relations. Consequently, she had teamed up with Sigmund Freud's daughter, Anna Freud, to venture into the film industry.

If we were comparing schedules, she was probably even busier than I was.

Let's see... Is there anyone else who might be free right now?

There was my brother-in-law, Ludwig Wittgenstein, who might just be the most unoccupied man in the world. No, scratch that. Knowing him, he was probably spending his days in intense, agonizing philosophical contemplation, making him the busiest man alive in his own way.

Besides, things were... incredibly awkward between Ludwig and me.

First of all, it felt bizarre to see a legendary philosopher—someone I deeply respected from my past life—acting as such a green youth in this one. Second, there was an inherent, almost biological awkwardness between a man and his brother-in-law. I had no idea why, but whenever the two of us were left alone, I found myself completely at a loss for words. I was usually a master of political networking and social buttering, yet I became utterly tongue-tied around my brother-in-law.

"Well, nothing can be done about it. I'll just have to go out and enjoy myself alone!"

Actually, was I really just going out to play? No, this was an undercover inspection to ensure the parade and festivities were proceeding smoothly. Yes, indeed.

I headed out to watch one of the movies my wife and Anna Freud had co-produced. Though, knowing the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠current climate, they were bound to be nothing but war and political propaganda films.

- "Darling, romance is one thing... but war and political films are not easy to pull off."

- "What's so difficult about it? You just make an entertaining movie and subtly weave political messages into the narrative. It's simple."

- "Hmm..."

- "I hear romance films are highly popular lately. Just swap out the main characters with Hitler, you, or me."

I had given Margarete advice on filmmaking a few times in the past. She had immediately grasped my meaning and, over the last six months, had churned out an incredible string of mega-hits. I hadn't actually watched any of them yet, but they were supposedly so popular that they were being exported to Germany and even our enemy nation, France.

I walked up to the box office of a nearby theater.

"We are completely sold out! The tickets were gone two weeks ago, so you can't go in!"

"Well... I'm a war veteran. Surely that counts for something?"

"Thank you for your service to our country. But rules are rules. We can't exactly kick out the people who bought their tickets in advance, can we?"

"Even a seat in the very back would be fine..."

"I'm terribly sorry."

With the citizens of Vienna flooding the streets, even the appeal of being a war veteran wasn't enough to bypass the sheer volume of the crowd. I had no choice. I slowly pushed up the brim of my hat, revealing my face.

"You know who I am, right?"

"C-cough...! D-D-Director St—"

"Shh!" I quickly covered the ticket seller's mouth. "I am on a secret mission."

"I-I'm so sorry..."

"I am conducting highly classified business of grave national importance. I need your cooperation."

"I-in that case, perhaps you could watch from inside the projection booth...?"

"Yes, that will do perfectly. Thank you. Please ensure this remains strictly confidential."

I hadn't wanted to resort to pulling rank, but I had no choice. It was just a movie. It was in black-and-white, barely an hour long, and didn't even have recorded sound. There was no real need to watch it now, and I could easily view it later, but...

I simply couldn't walk past the poster.

The movie was titled A Day in the Life of the Dashing Mr. Hitler. To my utter shock, Hitler himself had actually starred in it.

On the poster, Hitler's actual face was nowhere to be seen; instead, he was depicted with a sharp jawline and deep, intense eyes—looking suspiciously like a handsome version of Joseph Stalin.

Ugh. Makes me want to throw up.

As if possessed, I walked into the theater.

The plot of the movie was childish beyond belief. A band of Serbian bandits was planning to rob a bank in Hungary. Meanwhile, Hitler, exhausted from his duties at the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative, goes to the bank to pay his utility bills (why the governor of Hungary would be paying his own utility bills at a local bank branch was beyond me). There, he accidentally runs into the Serbian bank robbers.

Strangely enough, the lead bandit looked remarkably like Stalin.

"Pfft, hahaha!"

I couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing. What on earth was this? Was it a comedy? Or a children's show?

With that, the movie came to an end. Every beautiful woman in the bank rushed forward to shower Hitler with kisses.

"..."

Anna must be going through a lot. Still, did I work myself to the bone earning our budget just to pour it into this garbage?

But as I stepped out of the theater and observed the crowd, my thoughts shifted.

"Wow, isn't Chairman Hitler just the dreamiest?!"

"Oh my goodness, yes! Why aren't there any men like Chairman Hitler around here?"

...

Am I the one who's out of touch here?

A swarm of young girls, giggling and clutching Hitler merchandise, poured out of the cinema. Following closely behind them was a group of middle-aged men with soot-stained faces.

"Hmm. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seems the film failed to fully capture Chairman Hitler's true character."

"Indeed. While it is true that Chairman Hitler enjoys a vegetarian diet and is exceptionally kind to women and children... he doesn't behave like some cheap playboy."

Finally! Finally, someone who agreed with me! I let out a sigh of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠relief, glad to know I hadn't completely lost my mind.

"Yes. Chairman Hitler is not merely kind; he is a man of immense, overwhelming charisma."

"Exactly. When he dons his military cap, he is a true man among men."

Never mind. Hitler really was dangerous. I had no idea he possessed some kind of black magic capable of brainwashing people.

Shaking my head, I began browsing the other movie posters. One in particular caught my eye.

I turned to the theater employee who had been hovering nearby.

"What is this movie about? What's the plot?"

"Ah, it's a speculative film imagining a world where Director Stahl never existed."

"And what happens in it?"

"Because Director Stahl isn't there, the Serbian Black Hand successfully assassinates Archduke Franz Ferdinand with a pistol. Consequently, the Austro-Hungarian Empire declares war on Serbia, sparking a global conflict."

What in the world...

I began to seriously wonder if there was another reincarnated soul running around this world besides me.

"...And then?"

"The Austro-Hungarian and German Empires ultimately collapse. It's a truly horrific story. Oh, and the sequel is just as dreadful. Would you like to hear about it?"

"Let me guess. Does Hitler become the Führer of Germany, and Stalin launch a Marxist revolution in Russia?"

"My word, you've already seen it! Yes, it is absolutely unspeakably horrifying."

The Austro-Hungarian Empire had always been a nation with a vibrant tradition of free expression. After all, hadn't I submitted a school report openly insulting the Kaiser and gotten off with nothing more than an expulsion? Under the reforms of Stahlism, Austria-Hungary had blossomed into a society where freedom of expression truly flourished—to the point where they could produce films depicting Hitler in such a ridiculous light. And to think Hitler had willingly starred in such a silly movie himself.

"D-Director Stahl. Shall we head back now?"

"Wait a moment. That movie over there looks quite interesting. Do you think I could watch just one more before I go?"

The movie was titled Hero Stahl.

The poster depicted me, with flowing blonde hair and a dashing uniform, standing proudly in front of the Hungarian Parliament with one hand raised high. Behind me, a red flag symbolizing the revolution fluttered in the wind, while Archduke Franz Ferdinand clung to me with a somewhat helpless, pleading expression.

Yes, yes. Now that was a proper film.

"Fortunately, that movie isn't quite as popular as 'A Day in the Life of the Dashing Mr. Hitler,' so I should be able to secure a ticket for you!"

"...Please do."

I refused to accept defeat to Hitler in the box office!

It was the third day of the victory parade.

For three days, Hötzendorf had barely been able to eat, his stomach burning from an overproduction of gastric acid.

"The world has gone mad... The entire world has lost its mind!"

Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, Chief of Staff of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Though he still held his title, Stahl's consecutive victories had rendered his position—and even his status as an Imperial Marshal—incredibly precarious.

As a general, calling him an absolute incompetent "useless brass" was perhaps a bit too harsh; he wasn't entirely useless. At the very least, he wasn't so incompetent that he would single-handedly ruin the war effort. When Stahl introduced modern weaponry and reforms, Hötzendorf had complied and allocated the budget accordingly.

The nobility monopolized the military. In return, they became genuine professionals in their fields, ensuring that military administration ran smoothly without any major gaps.

However, Hötzendorf's fatal flaw was the staggering, indefensible loss of human life that accompanied any of his victories. He was the perfect embodiment of both the strengths and weaknesses of an aristocratic military command.

Hötzendorf never viewed his soldiers as human beings!

As if playing a computer game, he launched reckless offensives without any regard for external conditions, driving the Empire's youth to their slaughter. While war occasionally demanded operations that sent young men to their deaths, Hötzendorf took it to an extreme.

"Y-Your Imperial Highness...!"

"You had best start preparing to step down from your post as Chief of Staff, General."

"B-but!"

"Then let me ask you this. While Stahl was busy liberating Warsaw, what exactly were you doing, General Hötzendorf?"

"..."

Hötzendorf grit his teeth so hard they nearly cracked.

A festival with fireworks exploding in the middle of a war—and all of it to celebrate the victory of a lowly Jew like Stahl!

Damn it. Failing to get rid of Stahl early on was the greatest mistake of my life.

But Hötzendorf knew his trials were far from over.

The only thing currently securing his position was the reigning Kaiser, Franz Joseph I. The elderly Emperor, too frail to take active measures, had no desire to stir up trouble and chose not to interfere with Hötzendorf or the aristocratic circles within the military. Knowing this, neither Archduke Franz Ferdinand nor Stahl had pushed too hard to oust him.

But what if the aging Kaiser were to pass away tomorrow? What if Archduke Franz Ferdinand ascended the throne?

When that happens, I am truly doomed. I must take action, and I must do it now!