A Promotion?

While Smith was reveling in his sense of accomplishment, others found no reason to smile—least of all Clark Hamilton.

Unquestionably, the shocking news of "Professor Yang's" electrocution during treatment spread like wildfire. The professor's body, nearly cooked by the electricity, had yet to cool when Clark Hamilton received the devastating report.

At the time, Clark Hamilton was horseback riding at his private estate on the outskirts of Berlin. Upon hearing the news, he fell off his horse in shock. The fall, coupled with the fright, proved too much for the aging man. He lost consciousness on the spot, and by dawn the next day, his pulse had ceased. He passed away so suddenly that he didn't even leave behind any final words.

His reaction was not unwarranted. The implications of the incident were terrifying the more one thought about them:

This time, "Professor Yang" was electrocuted during treatment due to a malfunctioning device. While the exact cause remained unclear, it was almost certain that the equipment had failed. A slight deviation, and it could have been the young prince who was electrocuted instead of the professor. Such a colossal responsibility—who could bear it?

And that was just the surface-level horror. A step deeper, the implications became even graver. If the equipment could malfunction to such a lethal extent, it suggested that the electrotherapy was fundamentally unsafe, or at least carried significant risks. As the attending physician, Clark Hamilton should have been well aware of these risks and taken steps to prevent such dangers. Clearly, he had failed. If the Hohenzollern family decided to hold him accountable, he would have no defense.

Clark Hamilton knew his role in this was far from innocent. If the Hohenzollern family investigated his recent financial transactions, they would discover a transfer of £1,000 to his account at the Urban-Rural Bank just a month prior. The transfer had been made by a company called "Thomas Electric Instruments." A deeper investigation into this company would reveal the name Thomas Young on its board of directors.

Even a fool could guess what this meant.

No matter how far the investigation went, Clark Hamilton's medical career was over. For him, an accidental death from a fall seemed like the best possible outcome—just as electrocution had been the best outcome for "Professor Yang."

The Hohenzollern medical team, too, found no reason to smile. This elite team comprised the finest physicians in Prussia, and thanks to Victoria's connections, many renowned British doctors had joined as well. Arguably, it was one of the most exceptional medical teams in Europe, if not the world.

Yet even this team faced a monumental challenge: Friedrich Wilhelm Victor Albert von Hohenzollern—or, as we know him, Smith.

All signs pointed to the fact that this child, who had struggled his way out of the womb and been born laughing, was far from normal. However, no one could pinpoint exactly what was wrong with him, let alone how to cure him. What everyone did know was that anyone who took an active role in his treatment ended up dead:

Edward Martin was killed by a falling rivet.

Thomas Young was electrocuted.

Clark Hamilton fell to his death.

Isn't that terrifying enough?

Even more chilling was the fact that the young prince needed a new attending physician. Clearly, the replacement would be chosen from this medical team. Who knew what horrors awaited next?

Smith's "family" wasn't laughing either. His adoptive parents, Frederick and Victoria, were beside themselves. They had watched their son endure untold suffering and danger during these so-called "treatments," which had mostly targeted imaginary illnesses while failing to address his inability to speak. How could they not be enraged?

Prince Regent William was also deeply troubled. As Smith's grandfather and the Regent of Prussia, he understood that under Prussian succession law, barring unforeseen circumstances, this child would one day become king. In a country like Prussia, however, a person with a speech disorder would struggle even as a crown prince or royal heir, let alone as a king. This meant that the day William ascended the throne would mark the beginning of his grandson's even greater suffering.

What worried him even more was the knowledge that this day might not be far off.

Frederick William IV, the current King of Prussia and William's brother, was nearing the end of his life.

Since the summer of 1860, Frederick William IV's consciousness had been in a near-constant state of fog. By autumn, when fallen leaves carpeted Unter den Linden, the king was mostly comatose. By the time Berlin was blanketed in its first snowfall, the doctors, utterly helpless, had already advised William to prepare for his brother's passing.

Yet the old soldier, who had once resisted Napoleon's armies, clung to life with a tenacity that exceeded the doctors' expectations. Snow fell again and again in Berlin, but the stubborn king refused to draw his last breath. Meanwhile, the servants at Charlottenburg Palace had secretly started a betting pool on how many more critical notices from the doctors the king would survive.

Smith, too, was making bets—with himself—on whether Frederick William IV would die on January 2, 1861, the historical date of the king's death.

And so, amid this waiting, New Year's Day 1861 arrived. It was a typical "Berlin New Year," with heavy snow falling incessantly since morning and a biting north wind making the weather all the more unbearable.

Even before his transmigration, Smith knew that such harsh weather posed a significant risk for the gravely ill elderly, no matter how warm and well-cared-for they were. The human body could sense external changes, and even the smallest fluctuation might trigger unforeseen reactions.

Smith wasn't sure if the historical New Year's Day of 1861 had been this severe, but as he watched the blizzard outside, he felt certain that the ailing Frederick William IV wouldn't last much longer.

So when Frederick appeared before him and Victoria at dinner, his uniform covered in snow, Smith wasn't surprised in the least.

He had even anticipated his "father's" opening line.

"Vicky, the king won't make it…" Frederick whispered to Victoria. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or his emotions. He continued, "We'll need to go—Father is waiting for us at Charlottenburg Palace."

Victoria immediately stood and said, "I'll make arrangements for the children—"

"No, Vicky," Frederick interrupted. "Just make sure Charlotte is settled. Willie needs to come with us."

Victoria caught the unusual undertone in Frederick's words. Frederick added, "The Prime Minister will be there too."

Victoria's expression changed instantly, her voice tense. "Ah, I see."

Smith also understood what kind of drama was about to unfold.

Evidently, his so-called "cheap grandfather," Prince Regent Wilhelm, was about to become the King of Prussia, and his "cheap father," Friedrich, would naturally become the Crown Prince of Prussia.

Typically, in a monarchy, the ascension of a new king only necessitates the appointment of a crown prince. However, the situation in Prussia at this time was somewhat unique.

Wilhelm was already over 60 years old. Although still robust, no one could guarantee the future health of someone in their sixties. Meanwhile, his son Friedrich was a key officer in the Prussian military. In a Europe fraught with crises, war could break out at any moment, and the battlefield was indiscriminate. Even high-ranking officers weren't immune to mishaps.

Thus, the country didn't just need a crown prince; it also needed a crown grandson. Theoretically, Smith was the first in line for this role!

"Hmm, does this mean I'm about to be promoted to Crown Grandson?"

Hearing Friedrich's words, Smith began to ponder. Yet, just like Victoria's reaction during their earlier conversation, Smith's path to becoming the Crown Grandson seemed likely to encounter some turbulence.

Because "the Prime Minister is also involved!"

Undoubtedly, Otto von Bismarck is the most famous Prime Minister in Prussian history. However, on January 1, 1861, he was still far away in Cathay (China). The Prime Minister of Prussia at this time was someone else—Karl Anton von Hohenzollern!

For many people, disliking someone named "Anton" might be understandable, and Smith was no exception. However, his reasons were somewhat different from the average person's—there was indeed a personal grudge between him and Karl Anton von Hohenzollern.

Since the autumn of 1860, as the day of Wilhelm's ascension approached, the Prince Regent had frequently mentioned the matter of his successor, both publicly and privately, which had sparked considerable disputes.

Appointing Friedrich as the Crown Prince was a settled matter, with no controversy. The issue lay with the Crown Grandson—or rather, whether a Crown Grandson should be appointed at this time.

From Wilhelm's perspective, appointing a Crown Grandson was necessary. Despite his constant worries about Smith's "health issues," Smith was still his bloodline. Therefore, naming Smith as the Crown Grandson was the natural course of action.

However, not everyone shared this view. In fact, a considerable number of people disagreed, especially the various branches of the Hohenzollern family.

Indeed, the direct royal line of the Hohenzollern family in Prussia had not been particularly prolific for generations. Yet, this didn't mean the Hohenzollern family as a whole was lacking in successors. As a long-standing noble family with hundreds of years of history, the Hohenzollerns had numerous branches and offspring. While blood was said to be thicker than water, secretly, how many of these branch-line Hohenzollerns hadn't quietly hoped for the extinction of the royal line so the throne might pass to their own house?

Of course, such thoughts could remain unspoken. Politics always required a veneer of propriety. Unfortunately, those opposing the appointment of a Crown Grandson actually had a legitimate excuse: Smith's "language barrier."

The current Prime Minister of Prussia, Karl Anton von Hohenzollern, had used this very reason to oppose naming Smith as Crown Grandson.

Smith had done his homework on Karl Anton von Hohenzollern. This "Anton" was a distant cousin of the royal Hohenzollern line, sharing a common ancestor with Friedrich Wilhelm IV about ten generations back. Originally, he ruled over the small principality of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen.

According to official accounts, in 1849, citing this blood relationship, "Anton" abdicated and ceded his principality to Friedrich Wilhelm IV. One didn't need conspiracy theories to guess at the coercion, bribery, and deceit behind this event.

Regardless, from that point on, Prussia officially annexed the Principality of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, and Karl Anton von Hohenzollern became an influential figure in Prussian politics. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that after his abdication, he wielded far greater power than he ever had as the ruler of a small principality.

In 1858, after Friedrich Wilhelm IV fell gravely ill and Wilhelm became Prince Regent, Karl Anton von Hohenzollern reached the pinnacle of his political career when Wilhelm appointed him as Prime Minister of Prussia.

However, politics is always driven by interests. Although appointed by Wilhelm, Karl Anton von Hohenzollern didn't always align with the Prince Regent's interests. This meant he couldn't unconditionally support Wilhelm on every issue, including the matter of appointing a Crown Grandson.

From his perspective, if no Crown Grandson was appointed, and Wilhelm eventually passed away peacefully, with Friedrich succeeding him, nothing would be lost. However, if both Wilhelm and Friedrich were to die unexpectedly during his term, his powers as Prime Minister would suddenly expand dramatically. He could even use Smith's "language barrier" as a pretext to revoke his inheritance rights and appoint someone else—a temptation too great to resist!

And today, Smith was about to meet this Karl Anton von Hohenzollern!