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I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 261
🕑 Added 2025-06-16 17:01:03 +0000 UTCChapter 261: A Higher Position
Perhaps it was due to his lack of habit, but after serving at the headquarters for more than half a month, Charles, on his break, only wanted to stay at home and didn’t want to go anywhere.
In the past, whenever he returned during breaks, he would visit the motorcycle factory and the tractor factory, but now, he didn’t feel like moving at all.
He found himself an excuse: Anyway, Djoka would take care of the business, so there was no real meaning in going.
Another reason was that Charles was now effortlessly earning tens of millions of francs through “authorized production.” He had licensed the production to the United States, Russia, and Britain, and it was estimated that he would earn tens of millions from these deals.
With money coming easily, Charles no longer paid much attention to the profits from the tractor factory and the motorcycle factory. If they went bankrupt, so be it—just a drop in the ocean.
If it weren’t for their ties to the military industry, especially the tractor factory’s engines directly impacting tank development, Charles wouldn’t have bothered to keep them around.
He also thought of the detestable Francis, who had been much more restrained recently.
After all, Charles was a competitor whom Schneider feared, while Francis was merely a pawn of Schneider, and the difference in their positions was clear.
If Charles wanted to, he could easily crush Francis’s tractor factory without much effort, and even Schneider’s support would be useless.
(Note: If Charles decided to fully deal with Francis, Schneider would likely choose to abandon him rather than engage in a full-scale war with Charles.)
But Charles didn’t feel it was worth it. Unconsciously, he had already left Francis far behind, and dealing with him would only lower his own status.
Charles suddenly felt nostalgic for the modern electronic age. If he had a phone, he could just read novels at home during his free time.
...
The next afternoon, Charles braved the heavy snow to visit the factory.
He didn’t go to the motorcycle or tractor factory, but instead went to the Veterans' Welfare Institute to see Captain Darius, the director.
The Welfare Institute was no longer what it used to be.
When it was first built, it had borrowed an old building from the motorcycle factory. Due to the large number of disabled veterans seeking refuge, the dormitories were cramped, and many people had to sleep in factory rooms and makeshift tents.
Last month, Charles had built a five-story building at the welfare institute, with more than three hundred rooms, each with its own bathroom, and each room could accommodate ten people.
Another building of equal size was under construction, which would eventually be able to accommodate seven to eight thousand disabled veterans.
This cost Charles over three million francs, but he felt it was all worth it. This was an investment, and now was the time to put it to use.
...
Charles found Captain Darius at the factory. As the director, Darius had always been diligent and conscientious, trying all sorts of ways to help the disabled veterans overcome their disabilities and do what they could.
It wasn’t easy, because each disabled veteran’s injury was different, and Darius had to consider every individual case, even taking into account their ability to take care of themselves. For example, he would have one veteran without legs work alongside another who was missing hands.
Watching them work so laboriously, Charles couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken.
But Charles knew that, for these veterans, it wasn’t just about work—it was about dignity, confidence, and even the meaning of life.
Otherwise, they would just be a burden on their families, lying in bed waiting to die.
Charles walked into the factory, and the entire workshop came to life.
The workers, without any coordination, stopped what they were doing and cast admiring glances at Charles. Many of the disabled veterans had never seen him before and began whispering among themselves:
“Is that Mr. Charles? Finally, we get to see him!”
“Today is our lucky day, gentlemen, I hope I get a chance to thank him in person.”
“Forget it, Ambroise, Mr. Charles is very busy.”
...
Unexpectedly, Charles casually walked into the crowd. He shook hands with the veterans and greeted them: “How’s everything, gentlemen?”
The veterans rushed forward and answered eagerly:
“Thanks to you, we’re doing well, Mr. Charles!”
“No complaints, Mr. Charles! Not only are we alive, but we’re also able to send extra wages to our families.”
“I really like it here, Mr. Charles, we can help each other.”
...
Charles nodded at them, his eyes filled with sincere respect.
Charles felt that these veterans were remarkable people. They had given everything for France, and France should not dismiss them with just 130 francs.
The veterans understood the expression on Charles’s face. Although he didn’t say anything, they understood.
They didn’t know how to express themselves, so they could only keep thanking Charles, some of them even with red eyes.
Compared to work and wages, what they needed more was this acknowledgment.
...
Captain Darius took Charles to his office.
The office was very simple—a desk, a chair, a bookshelf—everything it needed, but it didn’t have the French flag.
It was kept very neat, everything was like new, which seemed to contradict Darius’s one-armed state.
Darius understood Charles’s expression and smiled self-deprecatingly as he expertly made coffee with his only right hand, saying: “You may not believe it, Mr. Charles, I used to be known for being messy, but now, with only one hand, I can keep the room clean.”
Darius chuckled at himself, handing the coffee to Charles: “Some say that after coming back from the gates of hell, my temperament changed, but I don’t think so.”
“And what is it, then?” Charles took the coffee.
Darius turned to grab his own cup of coffee, took a sip, and sat down in front of Charles, answering: “I used to think I could accomplish great things and didn’t care about these little details. Now, I believe these little things are my career.”
With that, Darius waved his hand toward the factory outside the office, smiling: “This is meaningful. I think I’ve found my purpose while helping others.”
“You really manage this place well.” Charles complimented him from the heart.
“No, no.” Darius replied: “Please don’t thank me. I’m doing all of this not for you, nor for anyone else. I’m doing it for myself. I even feel like my old self was wasting time.”
Charles nodded, understanding.
Life is often like this: only when you lose something do you truly understand the meaning of living. Otherwise, you’ll live in confusion, never knowing what you want to do.
This made Charles feel conflicted. He wasn’t sure if his visit was the right thing to do. Perhaps it would disrupt Darius’s peaceful life.
Seeing the change in Charles’s expression, Darius suddenly became anxious: “Mr. Charles, you’re not planning to shut down the welfare institute, are you?”
Before Charles could respond, he added: “If you’re short on funds, you don’t have to subsidize the institute anymore. We can be self-sufficient. Please don’t shut it down.”
Darius looked at Charles with pleading eyes, a hint of panic in them.
“No, Captain.” Charles replied: “I don’t have any intention of shutting it down. As long as I’m alive, the subsidy will always be there.”
“Well then…” Darius looked at Charles in confusion.
Charles asked in return: “Captain, what if things aren’t as you think? Perhaps you have a higher position?”
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