Berlin - July 10, 2025
Name's Caio Müller. History teacher. Gamer. Military tactics nerd. Above all? A frustrated Brazilian.
After years of bills, boring lectures, and students asking if Nazism is left-wing, I finally got my well-deserved vacation. So I did what any fed-up history teacher would do: booked a trip to my favorite country, Germany.
Berlin tourism has everything: currywurst, beer… and, of course, the ruins of terror. Perfect holiday for someone bitter like me.
Cold, haunted, historical… Magnificent, in the darkest sense.
Walking among the ruins, reading about bureaucratized evil, stepping over the ashes of history… It was fascinating. And disturbing.
I stopped in front of a Gestapo exhibit.
A blurry photo of Heinrich Himmler signing documents. Classic. But something caught my eye…
A shadow. A silhouette. Faint, poorly printed.
It looked… like me.
Wait… Why does that look like me? Coincidence? Am I going insane?
The air shifted. Wrong. Heavy. Like something was pulling me in.
My vision locked. The world around me faded. The air thickened. Sound vanished, replaced by a low mechanical hum… like a plane about to crash.
I blinked.
My heart pounded. The room spun. I tried leaning on the wall, but it felt distant, unreal. Everything went black.
It was like I was being ripped out of reality itself. Like my soul was being yanked out.
Then… I woke up.
The smell of old wood. Dim yellow light burned my eyes. I sat there, weak, thirsty. Looked like the same place I fainted.
Maybe a retro-themed hospital? Some immersive museum? A nightmare? No way this is real…
But… why am I in an old wooden chair, in a room so familiar… yet so wrong?
Birds. Wind. The air felt cleaner. The eerie silence broke as a voice called out.
"Are you alright, mein Führer? Reichsführer Himmler is waiting for you."
German. Of course. But… I understood it.
I tried speaking, my body sluggish, my hands… old.
"Ich brauche Wasser." The words slipped out - flawless German. Automatic. Like my mouth remembered a life I didn't live.
"I need water." That's exactly what I said. How? No clue.
"We'll bring it right away, sir."
"Wait. Bring me a mirror too."
He left.
And that's when the panic set in. Mein Führer? SS uniform? My hands - old, wrinkled? This can't be a prank. What did I walk into…?
Option one: elaborate prank. Unlikely. Who knocks someone out with that eerie sensation just to troll them?
Option two: the worst Isekai imaginable. I reincarnated… as Hitler.
God help me.
And what if it's 1945? Yeah… then I'm truly screwed.
The SS officer returned. Handed me water and a mirror. I hesitated. Looked at my reflection.
Pale skin. The ridiculous mustache. Slicked hair. Wrinkled forehead. Sunken eyes. A face I'd seen in history books, documentaries, museums.
Adolf Hitler.
Dictator of Germany.
Holy… I didn't know whether to scream or smash the mirror. But I couldn't. Not here.
Deep breath, Caio. Stay calm.
Reichsführer Himmler… That bastard. One of the people I hated most from the regime. But now… it was all real. No museum signs. No tour guides. Just real officers… and Himmler waiting.
I walked the hallway, passing uniformed Nazis.
"Heil Hitler."
Every two steps, another salute. Mechanical. Empty. How did he live with this? Oh right… he lost his mind.
Finally, I reached the door. Tall, dark, carved wood. A soldier knocked twice - like waking a monster.
"The Führer has arrived, Herr Reichsführer."
A thin voice replied, calm yet commanding:
"Open the door."
I entered. Could've bailed. But honestly? This was the Isekai I always wanted - no magic, no monsters. Pure historical chaos. Sure, waking up as Hitler is twisted, but at least it's interesting.
The office matched the nightmare: dark, perfect, reeking of leather and tobacco. Shelves of Gothic German books. A bronze eagle glaring from the fireplace. And in the center… him.
Heinrich Himmler.
Sitting behind a desk, papers perfectly arranged. Round glasses. SS skull insignia on his collar. Big head. Cold, glassy eyes.
He looked more like an obsessive accountant than a villain. But I knew exactly who, and what, he was.
"Heil Hitler," Himmler greeted, raising his hand.
I looked at him. Looked at my own hand.
Okay, Caio. Breathe. Just raise your arm. Welcome to the historical nightmare.
I raised my hand, hiding the panic.
"Heil… Hitler," I whispered, almost choking.
Himmler smiled. A strange, toothless grin. Stepped closer, voice almost fatherly:
"You seem… different today, mein Führer. Something bothering you?"
Yes. I just woke up as Adolf freaking Hitler. I'm barely holding it together, trying not to puke on your Nazi carpet.
But I nodded. Buying time.
"Just… fatigue. Restless dreams."
"Hmm… not good. You've got a meeting with Göring at noon. Then Minister Goebbels wants to discuss the new radio campaign."
Goebbels. Göring. My head spun. I knew these names. Knew what they would build.
I was trapped inside history's greatest horror machine.
And now? I was the one steering it.
"I need a few hours. A bath. Silence. To… collect my thoughts."
Himmler tilted his head like a curious dog.
"Naturally. I'll postpone the morning meetings. Shall I send someone to accompany you?"
"No. I just… need to be alone."
"Sehr gut, mein Führer."
He gestured. The officer opened the door. I walked out, steps echoing on the cold floor.
Each footstep a verdict.
I was really here. In Hitler's body. 1936. At the peak of the regime.
And no one had a clue.
To be continued…