Dia was the kind of woman who embodied the image of a good wife and loving mother.
No matter how long it had been since they last met, she was always gentle.
She was happy when Ryden came.
And she never tried to make him stay when he left.
A perfect woman.
After a lingering farewell, Ryden headed to the Stark Industries building.
Today was departure day.
The academic conference would begin the day after tomorrow.
If they traveled by ship, crossing the Atlantic and the English Channel to reach Germany would take far too long.
Although the Third Reich's movements were growing more aggressive, the economic depression following World War I made Britain and France-who controlled the World Security Council-unwilling to send troops.
They preferred concessions.
Sacrificing other countries to buy themselves time and space for development.
A classic appeasement policy.
No matter what, the war wouldn't reach the American mainland anytime soon.
Even after World War II officially began, the mainland United States was never touched.
Of course, that didn't include the Pacific.
That was also why the United States rose to superpower status after the war.
While other nations burned, America sat safely across the ocean, printing money.
A guaranteed win.
But what did any of that have to do with Ryden?
He was just a nobody.
He wasn't worried about the fighting.
Even the Sorcerer Supreme, Kamar-Taj, and other ancient forces weren't intervening.
If they weren't worried, why should a small fry like him be?
He might as well go to a bar, have a drink, and pick up a few girls.
After meeting Steve, Howard, and the Waynes, all those old rumors had proven true.
This was the real world.
A world where terrifying heroes and villains roamed freely.
Howard rarely woke up this early.
At this hour, he was usually still tangled up with some unknown woman.
But going abroad to show off was different.
"Hey, good morning, you little rascal!" Howard greeted him cheerfully. "Have you eaten? Let's have breakfast together. After that, I'll show you my private jet. I just had it custom-made by Boeing!"
Private jets were rare in this era.
They were pure symbols of wealth.
Just like in the future-if you didn't have superpowers, both heroes and villains would look down on you.
Even Batman, the most serious of them all, could only answer one thing when asked about his superpower.
"I'm rich."
"Tsk. What's so impressive about that?" Ryden snorted. "I'll build my own private jet someday. And I'll hire a bunch of beautiful flight attendants to dance on it!"
Flight attendants.
A profession capable of inducing nosebleeds.
"Oh! That's a great idea!" Howard's eyes lit up. "I like it!"
Once the topic turned to women, the two rascals became unusually energetic.
They talked nonstop, exchanging shameless opinions.
After chatting for a long while, they still weren't satisfied and finished a glass of milk.
Great minds thinking alike?
My ass.
It was more like perverts thinking alike.
Two shameless old rascals.
"What are you planning to do with the color display technology?" Howard asked. "I'm not touching it. I'll just wait for the money."
Ryden casually brought up his latest income stream.
As the saying went, people with a little "dark money" never starved.
Even terrorists had skills.
Kidnapping, blackmail, bank robbery-they were professionals.
Howard gave the young shareholder a meaningful look.
"You have... unique tastes."
Ryden froze for a moment, then sneered.
"Then you'd better pray you never have a daughter."
Howard stiffened.
"Damn it! Don't you dare think about my nonexistent daughter in front of me!" He waved Ryden off. "Let's go, little shareholder. Just wait for the money. Haha!"
He didn't say it outright, but with Howard's ability, there was nothing to worry about.
In the original timeline, he had built a massive empire for Tony Stark.
Even his archrival, Justin Hammer, had to respectfully call him the "father of the military industry."
In this era, a private jet was still a small aircraft.
It couldn't carry vehicles.
Cars were transported by ship.
Even large planes couldn't handle that.
The jet itself was fairly simple, with a single aisle.
But it was comfortable.
Sofas.
A wine cabinet.
The passenger cabin sat behind the cockpit, with luggage stored in the rear.
As a private jet, security checks were extremely lax.
You could bring a rocket launcher onboard and no one would care.
Bring ten of them, if you wanted.
If it exploded, that was your own problem.
Perhaps inspired by Ryden's suggestion, Howard had actually hired two girls to dance onboard.
He drank, chatted, and watched them perform.
There was also an army colonel present.
He was responsible for protecting Howard and coordinating military affairs.
An official bodyguard.
Similar to Tony and Rhodes.
The colonel's rigid military temperament led him to close his eyes and rest.
He didn't drink.
Frankly, he was disgusted by the behavior of these capitalists.
He only tolerated it because it was his mission.
Otherwise, even if he didn't openly show contempt, he wouldn't have said a word.
Howard didn't care.
He drank and watched the dancers.
Ryden, on the other hand, wasn't that shallow.
What he wanted to do now was study.
He brought along a book on human diseases and cell division.
It was from Ms. Jennifer's personal collection.
He had paid to have it copied.
The copying was expensive, and the images weren't very clear.
But Ryden wasn't short on money.
He wasn't rich enough to light cigarettes with banknotes.
But he didn't need to count every dollar either.
There was no point wasting time arguing over small expenses.
That time could be spent reading or experimenting.
And that would earn him tens or hundreds of thousands.
Which was more important?
The answer was obvious.
It wasn't stupidity.
It was foresight.
In short-
Poverty limited the imagination of a poor author.
Exactly.
The flight from New York to Germany took about five to six hours.
Planes of this era still used propellers.
They weren't fast.
The Germans would be the first to develop jet engines.
But by then, it would already be too late to change the course of the war.
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