I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Eva felt her voice tremble. "N-No... it’s not tight. It’s just right."

She stole a glance at his face and saw his expression was still intent. His eyes were filled with concentration, nothing more.

This left her a little disappointed, but at the same time, she felt a strange flutter in her heart.

"There," Werner said, taking a step back and nodding in satisfaction. "It fits perfectly."

Mary, standing nearby, also nodded in praise. "Perfect! It’s like this wedding dress was tailor-made for her."

Eva walked over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. The wedding dress made her look elegant and beautiful, like a princess from a fairy tale. She couldn’t help but stare a little longer, feeling a bit dazed.

’If only... if only this wedding dress were really for me.’

"If I didn’t know this was for a customer," Mary said with a laugh from behind her, "I would have thought you two were getting married. The way this young lady looks in the dress, and the focused look in Werner’s eyes... you two really look good together."

Eva’s face instantly flushed red again. She quickly waved her hands. "No, no, we’re just... just business partners."

She stole a glance at Werner, only to find him still composed, without a trace of embarrassment on his face. A wave of disappointment washed over her.

It was the first time she had so clearly realized that her feelings for this man went beyond a simple business partnership.

Eva’s heart remained unsettled long after she had taken off the wedding dress.

On the way back to East Berlin, she remained quiet, occasionally glancing up at Werner beside her.

"What’s wrong?" Werner noticed she was acting strangely.

"It’s nothing," Eva said, shaking her head. "I just think that wedding dress is truly beautiful. The girl who gets to wear it is very lucky."

"She is," Werner agreed with a nod. "She’s very lucky to have a father willing to do anything for her."

For a moment, Eva was tempted to ask him why he would go to such great lengths for this one deal, but she swallowed the words before they could escape.

’Perhaps that was part of his charm—his sharp eye for business opportunities and his decisiveness in pursuing them. That dedication and ambition for his work made him stand out so much from other men his age.’

As the sun set, the crowds in the Alexanderplatz Subway Station began to thin. The two of them sat on the subway back to East Berlin, the dim yellow lights of the car swaying back and forth.

But Eva knew that something inside her had subtly changed.

*********************

A few nights later, Werner arrived at the Schiller family’s home. When Schiller opened the door, his face was filled with anticipation.

"How did it go? Did you get it?" Schiller asked eagerly.

Werner said nothing. He simply placed the exquisite box on the coffee table and slowly opened it.

When the wedding dress was revealed before Schiller and his wife, the living room fell silent.

Madam Schiller covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. "It’s... it’s so beautiful... Is this really for my daughter?"

Schiller was even more moved, so much so that he was speechless. He carefully caressed the lace trim of the dress, feeling its luxurious texture.

"How much must this have cost?" Madam Schiller asked.

"The cost isn’t important," Werner said, waving it off. "What’s important is the happiness of Comrade Schiller’s daughter."

Schiller gave Werner a long, hard look, then said solemnly, "Comrade Betelich, from this day forward, you are the best friend of our family. Anytime you need help, you will have my full support."

Werner extended his hand. "Then, shall we say our partnership officially begins?"

Schiller gripped his hand firmly. "It officially begins!"

Werner nodded in satisfaction.

The investment had paid off handsomely.

Now, not only did he have a stable channel for quotas, but more importantly, he had earned Schiller’s absolute trust.

******************

「June 2, 1961. 10:00 AM.」

Werner sat in Schiller’s office, watching the quota department clerk across from him cautiously stuff a wad of cash into the back of his drawer.

They had been working together for a while now.

The things Schiller demanded had grown over time. It started with small favors, like getting him that wedding dress. Then it was a radio and cosmetics from France. Last month’s "big order" was a Swiss coffee machine. Each transaction gave Schiller a taste of the benefits, and in turn, showed Werner the true extent of the bureaucrat’s greed.

"Werner," Schiller said in a low voice, "I think we can go bigger."

"How so?" Werner asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know, I’m just a department clerk. My authority is limited," Schiller said, rubbing his hands together. "The number of quotas I can approve each month is small. At best, I can get you small items. But if... and I’m just saying if... we could get access to someone at the core..."

"Such as?"

"The section chief of the quota department," Schiller’s eyes gleamed. "Now *that* would be a real gold mine for you."

’Werner’s heart skipped a beat. This was exactly what he’d been waiting to hear.’

"A section chief... I’m afraid that’s not someone I can just meet on my own."

"True," Schiller agreed. "But Section Chief Klein and I are old classmates. We both studied abroad in Moscow. If I were to introduce you..."

Werner pretended to think it over. "Section Chief Klein... He sounds important."

"Important is an understatement!" Schiller said excitedly. "He controls the allocation of all import quotas for the whole of East Germany. What goods you want, how much you can get—it all comes down to his decision."

"Then he’s certainly someone worth knowing," Werner said, feigning moderate interest. "But would the Section Chief even notice a small-time trader like me?"

"Don’t sell yourself short!" Schiller said, patting Werner’s shoulder. "From working with you these past few months, I can tell you’re no ordinary man. You’re smart, you have connections, and most importantly..." He paused. "You’re reliable."

"Alright then. If Comrade Schiller is willing to make the introduction, I would of course be more than grateful."

Schiller smiled, satisfied. "Excellent! I’ll call Klein right now and arrange a meeting."

********************

「The next day at 2:30 PM. The Ministry of Foreign Trade.」

Werner followed Schiller down the corridor, his mind racing as he analyzed the situation ahead.

’Section Chief Klein controlled the allocation of quotas. What did that mean?’

’It meant he decided who received the scarce foreign currency allowances and who could import in-demand Western goods.’

’In a country suffering from extreme shortages, that kind of power was practically a license to print money.’

’The problem, however, was Werner’s own awkward position.’

’He was just a "freelance trader"—a polite term for a black marketeer. That status wasn’t legally sound, let alone sufficient for participating in official international trade.’

’He needed a legitimate front.’

Schiller, oblivious to Werner’s calculations, lowered his voice. "This Section Chief Klein... how should I put it? He’s very pragmatic, but also very cautious."

"I understand," Werner nodded. "Caution is a requirement in our line of work."

The corridor was lined with offices, the plaques on the doors reading "Quota Management Section," "Import-Export Licensing Section," and "Goods Inspection Section."

This was the nerve center of East German foreign trade, where every single document could determine the quality of life for tens of thousands of people.

Schiller stopped before a door with a plaque that read "Section Chief Klein" and knocked three times.

"Come in."