"Hmm..."
At the center of a fog-shrouded garden, Wilhelm II, Emperor of the German Empire, let out a low groan, tilting his head.
"Where... is this?"
He distinctly remembered falling asleep in his bedroom at the New Palace in Potsdam, as he always did. Yet when he awoke, he found himself standing in this surreal place. Withered flowers, grotesquely twisted trees with sparse branches and leaves surrounded him. Though his eyes and mustache trembled with fear, Wilhelm II clenched his jaw. He was the Emperor. No matter the circumstance, imperial dignity must be maintained.
—Ahh... Willy...
"W-what?!"
But the emperor's resolve shattered instantly. Hearing that voice—a sound so chilling it seemed to freeze the blood in his veins—Wilhelm II let out an undignified shriek and stumbled backward.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!"
As he shouted, a translucent specter materialized before the Kaiser amidst swirling blue mist. A ghost. Impossible as it seemed, the apparition was unmistakable.
"You—?!"
When Wilhelm II saw the specter's face, his terror transformed into shock. It was a visage he knew intimately—perhaps too intimately.
"F-Father...?"
—Long time no see, Willy...
The ghost's identity was undeniable: Friedrich III, Wilhelm II's biological father and the late Emperor of the German Empire, who had died thirteen years prior.
Color drained from Wilhelm II's face, his momentary relief overtaken by dread.
"To think I'd meet my departed father again in such a manner..."
—There's little time, Willy...
Friedrich III spoke with grave urgency.
—The German Empire faces a catastrophic threat. If left unchecked, the Reich will perish under your reign...
"W-what?!"
The Empire... destroyed under my rule?The words struck like a thunderbolt. Wilhelm II's mustache quivered violently as panic gripped him.
"What do you mean? Who dares threaten our great German Empire?!"
Could it be France, their eternal rival since the Franco-Prussian War?
"Or that arrogant Britain led by my detestable fat uncle after the passing of our great Grandmother Victoria?
Or perhaps the Russian Empire under my gentle yet clumsy cousin?"
Wilhelm II's mind swirled with possibilities, but Friedrich III did not answer.
No—in truth, he could not answer.
After all, Friedrich III couldn't possibly tell his son, "You will be the one to ruin the Empire," could he?
—"I cannot answer this question, but fate is not absolute. Even a destined downfall can be reversed..."
"Oh? Then how?"
—"You will soon face a monumental crisis. Yet in the distant East, a man will emerge to save you—he shall be the Empire's hope!"
"What? The East? You mean the yellow race ?"
Wilhelm II's once expectant expression instantly contorted.
"Preposterous! Asians are a cunning, untrustworthy people! They lie in wait to devour Western civilization—enemies of the white man!"
True to his reputation as the original proponent of the "Yellow Peril" theory, Wilhelm II began spewing his prejudices.
Friedrich III shook his head and said:
—"Regrettably, my time has come..."
"What?"
—"Ultimately, the choice lies with you, Willy. Remember my words..."
"Father? Father!"
Friedrich III's figure vanished into the thick mist.
Wilhelm II frantically chased after his father, but ahead lay only pitch-black darkness.
"Gasp—!"
With a sharp inhalation, Wilhelm II suddenly sat upright in bed.
"Hah... Hah... Where... where is this?"
Wilhelm II panted heavily, fully awake now, his eyes darting around the room.
Bedchamber.
Wilhelm II's bedchamber.
"W-was that a dream?"
Wilhelm II let out a relieved sigh, trying to calm his ragged breathing.
"Darling?"
His wife, Empress Auguste Viktoria, awakened by the noise, rubbed her eyes and sat up beside him.
"Heavens, you're drenched in sweat! Are
you unwell?"
"It's nothing, Dona (Empress Auguste Viktoria's nickname). Just... a nightmare."
"A nightmare?"
"Indeed. Vivid, but merely a dream."
Yes—a dream, only a dream.
His recent exhaustion from overworking on state affairs must have conjured such visions.
"How could the Empire possibly crumble?"
The German Empire remained unshaken.
No nation on European soil could rival its mighty army. Though its navy still lagged behind Britain's, it was steadily gaining strength.
With booming industry and a thriving economy, the Empire under his rule would not perish—it might even endure a thousand years.
"Besides, how could beings like those Asians ever become the Empire's hope?"
"Preposterous."
Wilhelm II muttered under his breath as he wiped cold sweat from his face.
Precisely—it was called a dream precisely because it could never manifest in reality.
...
March 6, 1901
German Empire, Bremen
"AAAAAAHHH!!"
"Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live the German Empire!"
'Yet nothing happened.'
Wilhelm II waved at the cheering citizens of Bremen, a faint smile on his lips.
Several days had passed since he had that dream, but his life remained as uneventful as ever.
Though he had held some hope, it seemed the dream was just that—a dream.
"Let us return."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Wilhelm II boarded the carriage, and the coachman nodded, tightening his grip on the reins.
It was time to return to the palace.
As the carriage, escorted by guards, began to move slowly—
"Kaiser Wilhelm!"
Bang!
A man suddenly leaped from the crowd lining the streets and shouted.
He drew a pistol from his coat and aimed it directly at the Kaiser.
"I judge you in the name of the people!!"
"Aaaaah!"
"An assassin! Guards! Guards!"
"Protect His Majesty!"
Screams erupted as citizens scattered in panic.
In the chaos, guards lunged at the assassin—but the trigger was pulled faster than they could act.
"Die, Kaiser—!!"
Bang—!
A deafening gunshot rang out, and a bullet flew toward the Emperor.
"Your Majesty! Dodge!"
The guards, unable to stop the assassin in time, shouted desperately—but it was too late.
The bullet hurtled straight toward Wilhelm II's head.
'This is the end!'
At the moment Wilhelm II braced for death, he shut his eyes tightly.
Then, something strange occurred.
Bang!
A sound resembling a bullet striking metal echoed, and time seemed to freeze.
Everyone stood paralyzed.
A child.
It was a child.
Had he come to watch the Kaiser's procession?
From the crowd, this unidentified boy suddenly rushed in front of the carriage—taking the bullet meant for Wilhelm II.
Bang!
Blood sprayed as the child collapsed to the ground.
At the same moment, the stunned crowd surged back into motion.
"What happened? What happened?!"
"A child's been shot!"
"Everyone, step back—now!"
No nation could remain unmoved at the sight of a child struck down. Citizens rushed toward the injured boy, but the Imperial Guards swiftly blocked their path.
The assassin had been subdued, but the situation remained volatile.
They had to guard against a potential second attack.
"Your Majesty, are you unharmed?"
A pale-faced guard officer urgently checked on the Kaiser.
If the Emperor's life had been endangered, this would be an unforgivable failure. The officer braced for reprimand—but Wilhelm II seemed indifferent. He pushed past the officer and strode toward the child who had taken the bullet for him.
"An Easterner…"
Wilhelm II's eyes widened violently as he recognized the boy's features.
Everything from the dream was true.
Just as his father had foretold, danger had indeed come for him—and an Asian had saved his life.
"Thankfully, he's still breathing."
Yet the child had lost too much blood.
Though Wilhelm II had no medical expertise, he knew the boy would die soon if left untreated.
"Your Majesty?!"
Wilhelm II scooped up the child and hurried back into the carriage.
The guards' faces twisted with confusion, but the Kaiser's focus remained entirely on the boy.
"To the hospital. Now."
"What?"
"Now!"
"Understood—understood! Move!"
At Wilhelm II's iron command, the coachman nodded and cracked the reins.
Truthfully, the driver hesitated—but this was the Kaiser's order. As a loyal German, he obeyed without question.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! What should we—?!"
"What do you mean? Follow them!"
Of course, watching the carriage speed away left the Imperial Guards in near-panic.
...
"Fortunately, the surgery was successful."
The doctor, still in his bloodstained scrubs, spoke as though he'd aged years.
The sight of the Empire's monarch barging into the hospital, drenched in blood, was shocking enough—let alone his order to save an Asian boy at all costs.
The pressure and tension were unlike anything the doctor had ever experienced.
Miraculously, the child's life had been spared, but the ordeal left the physician utterly drained.
"However… the boy was already in poor health. A full recovery will require considerable time."
"Hmm."
Wilhelm II nodded tersely.
"Judging by the boy's clothes, he was likely from the slums or a street urchin."
A child raised in such conditions having poor health was hardly surprising.
'Yet it was an Asian who saved my life…'
Perhaps it was merely an absurd coincidence.
But there was no denying the boy had shielded him.
Regardless of race, failing to reward someone who saved the Emperor's life would only tarnish imperial dignity.
"Your Majesty, the boy is awake!"
Hours later, the long-awaited news arrived.
Wilhelm II, resting in the hospital's finest parlor, rose immediately and strode toward the ward.
"Your Majesty."
Doctors and nurses bowed deeply as he entered the room.
The Kaiser's gaze swept past them and locked onto the child.
"..."
Jet-black hair, dark eyes—a distinctly Asian face.
Contrary to the narrow-eyed, "savage" caricature ingrained in European prejudice, the boy's features were neither harsh nor crude.
If anything, his face bore a striking handsomeness, the kind that would captivate women when he grew older—particularly his eyes, which shimmered with an almost otherworldly clarity.
"You've finally awakened."
"Uh…"
At Wilhelm II's voice, the boy's eyes widened.
He seemed to recognize exactly who stood before him.
"Has fear stolen your tongue?"
By all appearances, this was just an ordinary child.
But was this truly the Easterner my father's dream foretold?
"Regardless, you have my gratitude."
Wilhelm II remained unconvinced.
But time stretched endlessly before them.
"You saved my life."
The Empire would not crumble in a mere decade.
There was no need to rush understanding—not now, not ever.