I Became the Youngest Daughter of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 95: The Weight of the Law (7)

It's currently the summer of 1992.

Schindler’s List hadn’t even finished casting yet, let alone begun filming. Thanks to that, Director Spielberg still looked relatively sane.

That’s precisely why I came early. If I’d shown up in the middle of filming, he might’ve lost his temper and kicked me out.

“It’s been a while. Did you come after seeing the news too?”

Spielberg looked at me with eyes that said, Aren’t we not even close? I gave him a serious piece of advice.

“Yes. Honestly speaking, yes. I believe this film is going to be a tremendous success.”

There are hardly any directors who dislike successful films. Not because of money alone, but because success—measured by profits more than anything—usually signifies widespread public satisfaction.

“Haha, well, thanks for saying so. Other folks and I—none of us think this movie will sell. Kids these days don’t like black-and-white films, so I’ve been pretty worried... But since a young person’s saying it, I suppose I should trust it.”

A not-even-50 Spielberg chuckled in response. I continued, carefully.

“I understand your intent, and... I won’t be so rude as to ask you to revoke your donation. However, you’ll likely end up donating far more than you originally anticipated.”

He looked at me with a smile.

“That’s fine. I’m already financially free. Even if it were Jurassic Park’s profits and not Schindler’s List, I’d willingly give it up for the sake of my convictions.”

Of course, while he wasn’t quite on my level, Director Spielberg was unimaginably wealthy.

That was true even in 2020. As of 1990, he was the richest film director in the world. I didn’t know exactly how much, but it had to be hundreds of millions of dollars.

Good. Looks like I was right.

I quietly erased the last remnants of guilt.

“Actually, that’s not quite what I meant... I meant that donation, in and of itself, is a bit inefficient. Because of taxes...”

“Ah, taxes.”

He nodded, understanding. Donations tend to take quite a bite out of you in taxes.

“It’d be better to operate through a foundation. I know it might seem like overstepping, but I just couldn’t stand by and watch...”

“No, no. That’s what I was already planning. Or more accurately, I was going to create one.”

“...Excuse me?”

That was unexpected. I hadn’t thought he was that serious...

Did he do that in the original history?

I don’t know. Not really a field I paid attention to.

Thankfully, things were proceeding toward the best possible outcome, so the conversation got easier.

“Oh, wow. You really are something else. Actually, I wasn’t originally in this field. My major was in finance, and my family’s also in it, so I happen to know that—”

I babbled on like an adoring fan. It was easier to bring up personal topics when I threw in all sorts of random chatter.

It wasn’t hard. I’m a good actor anyway, and honestly, I was a fan.

“I think I even learned English thanks to your films, you know? I watched tons of American movies growing up. Oh, and I happen to have a little connection to Alpha Fund. One of the fund managers there—”

Persistently steering the conversation, I etched information into his brain as quickly as possible. It wasn’t useful now, ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) but once planted, those ideas would later bias how he processed new input.

That’s what we call cognitive bias.

.

.

.

And what was the director actually thinking?

Truthfully, Spielberg wasn’t thinking that deeply at all.

As for what to do with the foundation after creating it... well, someone in charge would figure it out. Compared to a foundation he wouldn’t need for at least another year, the immediate issue of filming the movie was far more pressing.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have entertained such detailed, personal conversations...

But somehow, for some reason, she owned land in Poland. And it just happened to be perfect for filming. If he could get rights to use it for free in exchange for a few friendly chats with a fan, what director wouldn’t?

Of course, making a good film had to come first. Only then could he build a foundation or do anything else.

He was a rich film director, and he had no desire to be anything else.

Her advice was surely well-intentioned, and honestly quite useful too...

But he didn’t know. It just wasn’t his area of interest.

***

The most important thing in this kind of fight... is patience.

Even after waiting for months, I still had to wait longer. That’s how it always is with long-term plans.

I’d baited the hook with Schindler’s List—now I just had to wait for the sprout to grow. A year, at least.

Of course, that didn’t mean I was sitting idle in the meantime. Focusing on only one task is for amateurs. I was juggling multiple jobs a day, weaving together strategies and schemes.

Thankfully, Lee Si-hyun was competent enough to handle Russia without me, so that was one less thing on my plate. Still, this was one of the busiest periods of my life—no exaggeration.

And it’s only going to get busier.

...

And yes, I was busy.

Cha Ba-da, unknowingly influenced by me, succeeded in forming ties with a future president who was still sniffing around politics. She had no idea, but through her, I’d secured a controllable variable inside the political arena.

Seo Ji-yeon, to my surprise, climbed to second place in school once the second semester began. Considering I was in first place, that made her effectively number one after me.

Realizing I could put her to use, I began teaching her basic economics, business management, and royal governance. When she realized she was being groomed as my future chief of staff, she beamed with pride and doubled down on her loyalty.

Though I didn’t expect her to actually move into my house...

Mmm, well, it’s all good. I’d rather have a loyal, friendly assistant bathing me than a stranger.

Anyway, back to business.

Yoo Seon-jun, Daehwa’s eldest grandson, was gradually breaking free from Yoo Jin-seok’s control. Thanks to a few tricks I taught him and grandfather’s strong support.

Daehwa had a tradition of early independence in childhood. My influence made that tradition far more pronounced.

As for Yoo Jin-ha, I no longer had any clue what he was thinking. Not that it mattered. The only leash capable of binding me—Lee Si-hyun—had moved to a place where betrayal wasn’t even an option.

Speaking of which, Alpha Fund and the Red Mafia under Si-hyun were running just fine without me. Both organizations were overflowing with talented leaders and staff. It was only natural.

End-of-century Russia and global finance were packed with brilliant, golden talents who seemed to spring up from nowhere. I simply issued the occasional directive to keep their interests from clashing.

Pigmalion Soft, which recently made headlines for its cutting-edge CG tools, was in good hands under Myrian and the other otaku employees. Thanks to my attention, the MS Korea branch—connected to Pigmalion Soft—was seeing even faster market growth than in my past life.

My home turf, Daehwa Securities and Daehwa Investment Bank, was finally filling up with skilled workers. In a country like Korea, a wasteland of finance, nurturing talent like this was nearly impossible—so said Ha Joo-seong, endlessly singing my praises.

Meanwhile, the secondary banks struggling to keep up in this new competition were getting more desperate than in recorded history. So desperate that they were borrowing short-term bonds from shady foreign banks without a second thought.

Well, nothing I can do about that. I mean, who would ever suspect Berlin-Bearings Bank of fraud? For the record, our bank (not Woori Bank, our bank) had become so famous that everyone just called it BBB now.

...

And so, time flowed like a river, and the end of 1992 arrived.

At last, filming for Schindler’s List was complete.

The premiere received universal acclaim... and thanks to my quiet interventions, the Shoah Foundation was established far earlier than expected.

A Jewish investor from Wall Street had made a massive donation.

Everything—just as I predicted.

***

Thump-thump.

The premiere was over... and tomorrow was the modest party hosted by the foundation. Naturally, Madoff—who pledged to donate hundreds of millions to the foundation—would be there too.

Maybe that’s why I was feeling a little giddy at the thought of meeting a true Wall Street elder.

Had Madoff not crashed and burned so spectacularly in my past life, I might’ve made the same mistake. In that sense, he was practically my master.

You know what Confucius said—when three people walk together, one of them is surely a teacher.

He was an excellent cautionary tale. He taught me that no matter how skillfully executed, a Ponzi scheme will eventually collapse.

Still, Madoff lasted a lot longer than I ever could have... guess I did learn something after all.

Well, minor details.

Miss Yoo Ha-yeon is a kind and upstanding person who would never resort to such a cheap scam.