Back in his own home, Ryden Hunt rubbed his temples.
The money his parents had left him amounted to barely two thousand dollars.
Fortunately, he owned the house outright, so there was no rent to worry about—only daily expenses like food.
This era seemed to be in a state of semi-enlightenment.
Computers had only just been invented after the Great War, and the current level of technological civilization leaned heavily toward firearms and machinery.
A thick scent of gunpowder already permeated Europe.
The alliance centered around the German Empire had begun devouring the territories of neighboring countries.
The British Empire, the only power capable of stopping them, was in decline due to the lingering effects of the first World War.
Crucially, the local British populace had no desire to go to war for a distant shore; it didn't align with the Empire's core strategic interests.
France was also in decline, having not yet caught its breath since the last war.
Meanwhile, Germany, under Hitler's leadership, had exploded with incredible productivity.
Combined with the naturally rigorous character of the German people, their economy had been revitalized in just a few short years.
Since being suppressed and forced to pay massive war debts after the first World War, Hitler found it easy to rouse the Nazi public's desire for conquest and to reclaim the territories ceded in their previous defeat.
Now, even as far away as America, one could smell the thick scent of smoke drifting across the Atlantic from the German border!
"Since I can't build computers or high-tech gadgets yet, I'll make something that fits the current trend of the times!"
Ryden cleared his thoughts, pulled out a sheet of white paper, and began to work.
The slender pen tip traced curves across the paper, outlining parts one by one.
From time to time, he pulled out reference materials for comparison.
Thanks to the vast collection of books left behind by his predecessor—the "nerd"—which hadn't been destroyed in the experiment six months ago, he could still look up various data.
Sheets of paper were set aside, covered in diagrams of large components and marked with zigzag lines indicating the standard industrial dimensions required for each position.
If a fanatic military buff were to see this, they would be shocked to discover that this was none other than the famous AK-47 assault rifle!
If there was anything most profitable, it was certainly arms. It was a guaranteed moneymaker regardless of the era.
With World War II approaching, munitions would be the most consumed commodity.
Oh, no—there was one other thing that would be in equally high demand: food!
The thing armies consumed the most, which was easy to manufacture and simple to store for long periods, was canned food! All sorts of canned goods, chocolate, and so on.
The food industry and the arms industry were definitely high-profit sectors.
However, there were many prerequisites.
The arms business required connections, financial power, and technology.
Ryden possessed none of these three.
Connections? He knew no one.
Financial power? Well, if two thousand dollars was enough, he might be able to buy a bathroom! Technology? He only barely had a grasp on that last point.
The reason he chose to make the AK-47 was something Ryden had planned long ago.
If he couldn't be the boss himself, he would be a leisurely shareholder.
And if that didn't work, he'd go work for someone else.
Don't forget, there was a rising military industrial giant in New York: Stark Industries! Thanks to his late parents' connections, he seemed to know that big tycoon, Howard Stark.
There was even a slight relationship he might be able to exploit.
When a person is immersed in work, time seems to fly.
By the time Ryden let out a sigh, put down the pencil that was nearly worn to a nub, and stretched, the doorbell rang.
Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was actually eight o'clock the next morning! Ryden knew clearly that it was eight when he started drawing the blueprints.
He had accidentally pulled an all-nighter! Working twelve hours straight without even a bathroom break—his kidneys were truly powerful!
Opening the door, he saw a mature, middle-aged woman in a long white dress that perfectly showcased the exaggerated curves of a Western woman.
She was dragging a suitcase and standing at the entrance.
"Good morning, Master Ryden! I've come to report for duty!"
It was none other than Sarah, whom he had met yesterday selling televisions on Old Forest Street! Captain America's mother!
"Hey, Sarah!"
Sarah's mature charm broke into a smile.
That momentary grace swept away all the fatigue from Ryden's night of work.
He stared a bit blankly for a second before inwardly scolding himself.
"Oh! Aunt Sarah, please come in. I didn't expect you to arrive so early."
Leading Sarah into the house, he pointed to an empty room on the second floor.
"Aunt Sarah, this is your room. You'll be living here from now on. Oh, right, here is your salary, plus some money for groceries for the month." After speaking, he handed over several Benjamins.
There was two hundred dollars.
Sarah took the cash, looking a bit shocked.
"This... Master Ryden, this is too much. If I cook myself, I won't even spend fifty dollars a month. Two hundred is way too much!" Out of her good upbringing, Sarah answered honestly.
After all, during the Great Depression, everything was very cheap.
Fifty dollars a month was already considered quite a feast.
"Haha, Aunt Sarah, just take it. If there's extra, use it for next month. I might be very busy, so I'll be counting on you to look after the house. Oh, right, I almost forgot—these are the keys to the house and your room. Since you're here, could I trouble you to make me some breakfast? A ham sandwich and a glass of milk will be plenty. I have to go out in a bit."
After speaking, Ryden went straight to his room to shower.
Working all night, plus his workout the previous evening, made him feel sticky and uncomfortable.
Sarah quietly put the money away, not even thinking of embezzling a cent.
She only thought about taking good care of this young boss.
She briskly set down her suitcase and headed downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast.
The warm shower felt wonderful.
There was a set of simple solar water heaters on the roof.
The principle of solar heating wasn't difficult; Ryden had built it himself to avoid the old-fashioned gas-tank heaters.
It was just that without a factory, he couldn't mass-produce them.
Furthermore, to make them durable and practical, he needed to improve the technology; otherwise, he would have sold them for cash long ago.
After eating the delicious breakfast Aunt Sarah prepared, Ryden took his design blueprints to a gun shop to source parts.
The AK-47 was an improvement on the principles of a semi-automatic carbine.
By using carbine components plus some small parts, it could be completed.
The gun shop didn't have carbines for sale—only old-fashioned single-shot pistols and shotguns.
While they had some lethality, one couldn't exactly rob a bank with them.
They were enough for self-defense but lacked offensive power.
The U.S. Congress wouldn't allow private gun shops to carry such high-powered destructive weapons.
At the gun shop, he could only buy grips, bases, and magazines.
The core barrels and firing components simply weren't for sale.
As a workaround, Ryden had to go to a hardware store to place a custom order.
Given the national economic depression, custom-ordering barrels and firearm parts technically shouldn't have been allowed.
But anyone who refused to make money was an idiot.
The perk of capitalism was that as long as you had money, you could buy whatever you wanted.
After placing the order at the hardware store, they agreed on a pickup for the next day.
Ryden took the parts home to continue his experiments.
The streets were desolate, filled with unemployed residents waiting for relief.
Factories couldn't sell their goods and were barely surviving by laying off workers.
The consequence was the emergence of a large number of vagrants, and crime rates in various areas were skyrocketing.
During the day, smart people avoided back alleys, as those were the easiest places to get mugged.
Beggars were everywhere, families begging on the streets, hoping for a kind soul to spare a little food to get through the day.
Looking at the bleak streets, Ryden was powerless.
He wasn't a hero, nor did he want to be one; he just wanted to live a better life.
If he had the ability, he would make sure the people around him lived well.
As for changing society or conquering the world? Only someone with water on the brain would try that.
He returned home to continue his experiments, though his focus shifted from energy to weapon design.
To earn his first pot of gold, he had to follow the trends of the era.
Heh, think about what the future Iron Man does.
He's an arms dealer! Even the terrorists who kidnapped him called him the "Great Butcher"—that tells you how big his business was.
Click! Clatter! He skillfully assembled the firearm, using practice rounds to test the power and feel of the gun.
He recorded every issue that appeared on white paper: jams, full-auto clogging, excessive recoil, unstable sights, and so on.
When it came to actually designing a firearm, Ryden realized just how difficult this job truly was.
He only managed because he was doing everything himself; he couldn't imagine how slow it would be for researchers following standard protocols.
Aunt Sarah didn't ask about Ryden's affairs.
On her first day of work, she was busy cleaning, bustling about as if this were her own home.
The previously cluttered living room was tidied, and the floors were mopped.
The bedroom linens were taken out to be washed and sunned.
It truly felt different having a woman in the house!
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