Among young people raised in a properly educated liberal society of the twenty-first century, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that almost none of them genuinely liked communism.
You didn't need outdated ideological indoctrination shouting "I hate communists!" to reach that conclusion. It was simply the natural result of history.
Of course, what modern people call communism was very different from its early form.
But it was still undeniable that the modern ideology had grown from those early seeds.
From that perspective, it might well be considered one of the most dangerous ideas ever conceived.
In the original timeline it had ultimately overturned Russia and a few other places, but who could say it would end there this time?
If the coming revolutionary winds were mixed with a strong dose of communism, the movement might spread far faster than it had in the original history.
It was unlikely—but history's butterfly effect had a habit of producing exactly such outcomes.
After all, my very existence had already altered the diplomatic landscape of Asia so drastically that the original timeline was almost unrecognizable.
And now it seemed I had influenced Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx without even realizing it.
How that influence might unfold was impossible to predict.
More importantly, I couldn't be certain what consequences would follow simply from speaking with them here.
So what should I do?
I had already boldly offered to take questions. I couldn't suddenly say, "Oh, you're foreigners? Get out."
More importantly, I needed to confirm exactly what these two men were thinking.
After all the talk I'd just given about improving workers' rights, who knew if these two lunatics had suddenly awakened as even more fervent apostles of the communist cult.
For that reason, I needed to isolate them somehow—away from everyone else—and keep them under observation without anyone noticing.
"Hmm… I see. Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx, was it? You came to London after traveling from Prussia through Paris?"
"Yes!"
"You must have seen quite a lot while moving between countries during such turbulent times. As it happens, I've been curious about the thoughts of young intellectuals from abroad. Rather than discussing it here, why don't we move somewhere more comfortable?"
"Pardon?"
"I suspect this conversation will take more than an hour or two. We could continue it at the palace—unless you're too busy."
Both Engels and Marx stared at me with wide eyes.
They clearly hadn't expected such an invitation.
Around us, murmurs of admiration spread among the other intellectuals.
"His Highness truly has remarkable generosity."
"What other royal would personally take foreign students to Buckingham Palace just to hear their opinions?"
"With such concern for society, we needn't worry about our voices being ignored."
…What?
This was producing an effect I hadn't intended at all.
What I'd said was merely an excuse, but apparently it had worked far better than expected.
Engels rose from his seat, deeply moved, and bowed.
"I gratefully accept Your Highness's kindness. It is a tremendous honor."
Marx, still somewhat dazed, stood up and bowed as well.
"It is an honor beyond words to receive such an invitation."
Imagine that.
Living long enough to hear Marx and Engels thank me personally.
I replayed my speech in my mind as I climbed into the carriage, wondering whether I had said something that might provoke them.
But honestly, a different question began to occupy my thoughts.
If I removed Marx and Engels from society permanently right here and now…
Would communism fail to take root entirely?
Or would some other third figure simply replace them in history?
If communism was historically inevitable, the latter would happen.
But if Marx truly was a once-in-a-century genius, then perhaps the former might be possible.
Only God could know for certain.
Personally, however, I suspected something like communism would still emerge eventually.
Before the rise of neoclassical economics or Keynesian ideas, early nineteenth-century capitalism was little more than a jungle of exploitation.
Naturally such a system would provoke backlash.
Marx's hatred of capitalism and his prediction that it would collapse under its own contradictions had attracted countless followers precisely because the era itself produced those conditions.
Ironically, the threat of such revolutions later forced capitalist countries to reform their systems in order to survive.
Because of that, capitalism matured—while communism, increasingly distorted, ultimately lost the ideological competition.
In that sense, communism had become a catalyst for progress while failing to achieve its own goals.
The problem was that this only happened after capitalism had matured.
Right now, we were nowhere near that stage.
Workers grow stronger the more you grind them down.
Factories that couldn't run workers fifteen hours a day were considered failures.
Children cleaning chimneys for over a hundred hours a week.
In an era like this, how could people avoid being drawn toward radical ideas?
So before these two completed the demonic martial art that would plunge Europe into madness, I had to do something.
At first I worried whether I could out-argue a man like Marx, who in the original timeline would revolutionize multiple fields of modern thought.
But after thinking about it more carefully, I realized something.
The current Marx wasn't the author of Das Kapital.
He hadn't yet written his theories of surplus value or historical materialism.
He wasn't even the legendary bearded philosopher yet.
Right now he was merely a young man with a full head of hair and a beard that hadn't grown thick enough to define his image.
A future revolutionary thinker, perhaps.
But still just a budding one.
If I handled this conversation carefully, I might even slow—or redirect—the course of history.
As soon as we arrived at Buckingham Palace, I led Marx and Engels into a reception room.
"How was the carriage ride? Comfortable, I hope."
"Not at all uncomfortable," Engels replied. "In fact, it was easily the finest carriage I have ever ridden in."
"I'm glad to hear it. You're honored guests who traveled all the way from Paris to London. We can't have you thinking the British Empire is inhospitable."
"So tell me—how does Britain compare to Prussia and France?"
"Industrialization here seems far more advanced," Engels answered. "Workers are pouring into the cities. The rise of the Chartists felt inevitable."
So they'd already been stirring up revolutionary movements here too.
Truly, revolution seemed to be their favorite hobby.
"Rapid development inevitably produces side effects," I said. "But we are trying to resolve them through moderate reforms. Still, I'd like to hear an outsider's view. What did you think of today's gathering?"
"It was impressive," Engels replied. "Especially the way Your Highness pointed out the fundamental limitations of the Chartist movement. In fact, our views seemed quite similar."
"…Similar?"
That was concerning.
Very concerning.
"Yes. The Chartists ultimately perceive economic inequality as political inequality. That is their limitation. They attempt to solve an economic problem through political reform. They believe gaining suffrage will change everything—but as Your Highness said, nothing fundamental will change. Workers will merely continue being exploited by capitalists."
"Exploited…?"
"So you believe the economic structure itself is fundamentally flawed?"
"Yes. That is why I asked earlier whether Your Highness believes this capitalist system will continue indefinitely."
This was not good.
I had hoped to tear up the secret manual before it was completed.
But it seemed the broad framework already existed in their minds.
Given that The Communist Manifesto would appear soon in the original timeline, that wasn't surprising.
In that case, perhaps the best approach was to attack the weak points in their arguments.
"Let me give you my view," I said.
"The current system is far from perfect. But no system in the world can ever be perfect. A perfect system would leave no room for improvement—and that would mean human civilization itself had stopped progressing."
"So Your Highness also believes capitalists exploit workers."
This man kept trying to frame everything as exploitation.
If he wanted to spread ideological gas, I could play that game too.
"Engels, wasn't it? In some respects, you're right. A few years ago children were working fourteen hours a day, seven days a week in factories and chimneys. That was clearly abnormal. That's why we introduced laws to improve conditions—and why we continue to reform unjust realities."
"But if the system itself is flawed, aren't such reforms merely pouring water into a leaking vessel?"
"I disagree," I replied.
"The total wealth of the British Empire has increased significantly in recent years. Workers' living standards have improved as well—slowly but measurably. If the situation is visibly improving, how can you call it futile?"
I showed them statistical reports I had prepared in advance.
At that point Marx, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
"My friend and I have traveled across Europe and witnessed how society is structured around exploitation by class. In the future, society will divide not by traditional status but by capital—capitalists and workers. Even if workers receive a greater share as wealth grows, won't the capitalists still take far more?"
"In that case," I said, "the role of the state is to mitigate inequality. To create fair competition, to support those who fall behind, and to ensure that people receive the rewards of their efforts."
From a nineteenth-century perspective, those ideas were extremely radical.
But compared to the two men sitting in front of me, they were almost moderate.
Perhaps the best strategy was to push them toward practical reform instead of theoretical revolution.
Since their ideology was not yet fully systematized, it might actually work.
Marx nodded slowly.
Then he exchanged a glance with Engels.
Engels looked directly at me, his face glowing with excitement.
"Your Highness is correct. And thanks to your words, we have realized something important."
"Realized…?"
I hadn't said anything particularly inspiring.
Why were they looking at me like that?
Hadn't they understood?
Shouldn't they abandon their delusions of global revolution and instead become social reformers?
Leave the dark path of ideological fanaticism and return to the righteous road of practical reform.
And perhaps my hopes had been answered.
Engels continued excitedly.
"We were already discussing these ideas earlier, but after hearing Your Highness speak we are now certain. We overlooked one critical point."
Yes, yes.
You must have misunderstood something terribly.
"To create the true communist paradise, capitalism must first reach its final stage and be followed by a dictatorship of the proletariat. But for that transition to occur, we need an ideal figure capable of relinquishing all capital."
"In other words, we need a leader."
"A leader who can complete capitalism and guide society into a perfect proletarian dictatorship."
"That person…"
"…is Your Highness."
"…."
Ah.
I see.
They had completely misunderstood everything I said.
So what they wanted was for me to stand before Europe and shout,
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the socialist paradise!"
Just as I feared, I had influenced these two far more than expected.
The problem was that the effect was the exact opposite of what I intended.
Seriously.
What on earth was I supposed to do with them now?