Prologue

On August 2, 1888, the University of Bulgaria held its first entrance examinations in grand style, opening a new chapter in the history of Bulgarian university admissions.

The examinations lasted three days, and covered a wide variety of subjects, spanning every profession and industry.

However, specialized subjects carried the most weight, accounting for eighty percent of the total score. Anyone who placed in the top three in their chosen field would be admitted even with zeroes in every other subject.

Of course, the candidates had no idea yet. After three days of exams, they were all like eggplants struck by frost, their confidence utterly gone.

Sofia seemed to grow noisier. People everywhere complained that the questions were too difficult, and many secretly regretted not having built up more knowledge in their daily studies.

On August 15, the entrance to the University of Bulgaria was already packed with people, all anxiously awaiting the final results.

In another respect, they were fortunate. They didn't have to fret over which major to apply for or worry that choosing the wrong one would hurt their future prospects. The school would select the major best suited to each of them, and guarantee them jobs after graduation.

As for personal interests and hobbies, could you eat those? Sorry, this was the nineteenth century. Nobody had ever heard of such a creature.

Ferdinand was very pleased with the admissions results. There were plenty of shortcomings, but it was the first time, after all, and overall things had gone smoothly. At least nobody had been caught cheating.

To commemorate his own student days, Ferdinand chose September 1 as the opening date—the familiar day.

The ceremony began with a speech by Ferdinand, reviewing Bulgarian history... (Ten thousand words omitted. You can attend your own opening ceremony.)

Amid a chorus of cheers, four hundred and thirty-six students stepped through the gates of higher learning.

Watching the students in the prime of their youth, Ferdinand was filled with emotion. This was the foundation of his future administration.

Thinking of their packed timetables, Ferdinand thought with malicious delight, Enjoy yourselves! Let loose while you can! Tomorrow you'll find out just how terrifying university is!

The University of Bulgaria had adopted a closed, militarized system of management, with as many as twelve lessons a day, not to mention self-study.

They got up at five thirty in the morning and didn't finish classes until ten thirty at night. Apart from mealtimes and brief breaks, they spent every moment studying.

Ferdinand had drawn up this schedule based on the high school routine from his previous life. Since this was the first university, nobody had any experience, so they simply followed it.

The administrators had been hired at high salaries from military academies in Berlin by the Ministry of Education, and had copied the entire system of management over wholesale.

In those days, news traveled slowly, and the breeze of democracy and freedom had yet to blow through. Bulgaria remained relatively conservative, adhering to the old belief that strict teachers produced outstanding students. Then the country's esteemed educators adopted the system.

Ferdinand had barely returned to the palace when he received bad news—the peasant movement had begun.

After the previous tax increase, the Stam Cabinet had come up with another blunder. A proposal had passed through parliament to reinstate the payment of tithes in kind.

The previous increase in agricultural taxes had only harmed rich and poor farmers alike. The landowning class could still make up for its losses by buying up land.

But restoring the tithe from the Ottoman period would seriously obstruct the development of agricultural capitalism.

To a great extent, it harmed the interests of the landowning class. The fiercest opposition came from small and medium-sized landowners, who feared that government officials would now have new ways to plunder them.

They launched a peasant protest movement, which rapidly began spreading throughout Bulgaria.

What reassured Ferdinand was that, for now, they were holding rallies and demonstrations. It had not yet turned into a revolution.

This only strengthened his resolve to bring down the cabinet. However, the Stam Cabinet had, after all, done much to help him take the throne and had played a key role in supporting his accession. Ferdinand needed a convincing reason to dismiss it.

Historically, the Stam Cabinet had remained in power until 1894, when it had become so hated that the former prince finally stepped in and dismissed it.

Before then, Stambolov had always held the reins of power. Ferdinand had used political maneuvering to weaken Stambolov's influence to some extent and strengthen the various ministries, but he had been powerless to change the fact that Stambolov controlled the cabinet.

Ferdinand had originally thought he would have to wait until the next parliamentary election to seize power smoothly. Unexpectedly, his butterfly effect had worsened the Bulgarian government's financial crisis.

The cabinet was going mad trying to complete the Five-Year Plan. To raise funds, one oppressive tax after another sprang up.

Ferdinand knew a police terror regime was taking shape. In just one year, the Bulgarian police force had grown by fifty percent.

Stambolov had also set up a secret police force without authorization. The intelligence organization Ferdinand had at his disposal had discovered more than three hundred members, and, of course, had sent agents to infiltrate it as well.

If he didn't act, he did nothing; once he did, he would make a thunderclap that shook the heavens. Ferdinand seized the opportunity to slip in some of his own choices—future leaders of the anarchists and revolutionaries, along with radical activists.

He planned to kill two birds with one stone, eliminating his future enemies once and for all, and making one last use of the Stam Cabinet.

"Your Highness, everything's in place. The fish have taken the bait!" Hoover, head of the intelligence organization, reported.

Ferdinand nodded with satisfaction. "Then get ready to haul in the net!"

Michael hurriedly knocked open the door to the prime minister's office and said, "Prime Minister, we have a disaster!"

"Don't rush. Take it slowly. God is watching over us. The sky isn't going to fall," Stam said unhurriedly over his tea.

"Oh, hell! Prime Minister, the sky's about to fall! Once you hear this, I doubt you'll feel like drinking tea anymore!" Michael said anxiously.

"Oh? What could have my minister so flustered? Let me guess. Have the Ottomans invaded, or are those Serbian scoundrels stirring up trouble again?" Stam joked casually.

"Oh, God! Prime Minister, don't you read the newspapers? Our secret agreements with the United Kingdom and Austria-Hungary have been exposed. The press is baying for the government's blood!" Michael said furiously.

With a clatter, Stam's hand shook, and his teacup fell to the floor.

He cried out, "What? How is that possible? Didn't only a handful of senior officials know about this?"

"Yes. Fewer than five people on our side knew the contents of the agreements! But now they've been published in the newspapers, exactly as written—not a single punctuation mark changed!" Michael said worriedly.

"Could something have gone wrong on the British or Austro-Hungarian side? That can't be right. Surely both sides wouldn't have leaked them at the same time! No more than ten people on our side knew about the agreements, and only a few of us in the cabinet knew their contents. Even the Grand Duke doesn't know the details. Who could have leaked them?" Stam said, puzzled.