Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Aung San Mausoleum Bombing
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While I was lost in thought, the number of mourners had thinned out a little. It wasn't because of me in particular; Grandfather had moved outside.
Compared to the deceased youngest son who should have been the center of the funeral, it wasn't all that strange for the chaebol chairman—his father—to draw all the attention.
My chest burned with impatience. I wanted to seize that power as soon as possible too. The power that Chairman Yoo Seong-pil wielded, capable of saving or dooming countless lives with a mere gesture...
How long would it take for these tiny hands of mine to sway the fate of South Korea?
I lifted my head slightly and calmly observed the people. To those gathered here, I was nothing more than an extra right now.
Someday, I'd find my way into that game.
I opened my eyes and ears wide, gathering information. I wasn't sure when I'd use it, but it would at least qualify me to step into the fray.
A little time passed like that, and then I heard that familiar voice I'd paid special attention to earlier.
"Ah, I'm a bit busy today, so I'll just pay my respects to the deceased and head out right away."
With those words, a middle-aged man strode over.
The fatigue etched deeply into his face, visible even through his glasses, and his impeccably tailored suit spoke volumes about who he was.
I knew his name too.
Kim Hae-ik, Senior Presidential Secretary for Economic Affairs at the Blue House.
Politically liberal, stability-oriented unlike the growth-focused Sogang School. The brilliant economic bureaucrat who had brought the inflation rate down from 28% in 1980 to 7% in just two years.
A rare incorruptible official of his time, young and exceptional... but.
After failing to push through the real-name financial system, his influence gradually waned, and he died in the 1983 Aung San Mausoleum bombing.
'...Wait. 1983?'
I rifled through my memories and freaked out.
Today was October 7, 1983?
"..."
My mind spun rapidly. Clearer and sharper than ever, my mind relentlessly sifted through past memories, piecing together the answers.
Memories preserved as vividly as photographs stacked up neatly, embedding themselves firmly in my head.
The Aung San Mausoleum bombing. A North Korean provocation and social operation against the South... originally an assassination attempt targeting the president.
The date: October 9, 1983.
In other words, in two days, Kim Hae-ik would die in a bombing in Burma.
Seventeen South Koreans died at the time. A number that could be seen as large or small, but the list of victims was dazzlingly prestigious, mostly high-ranking officials.
Including Seo Seok-ju, the Deputy Prime Minister and Director of the Economic Planning Board...
The Foreign Minister, Minister of Trade and Industry, Minister of Energy and Resources, Presidential Chief of Staff, Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to Myanmar, Planning Director of the Overseas Cooperation Committee, Vice Minister of Finance, Vice Minister of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries, Vice Minister of Science and Technology, National Assembly member and Chief of Staff to the Youth Justice Party Chairman, the president's personal physician, Presidential Press Secretary, and Presidential Security Service officer...
And now, the Senior Presidential Secretary for Economic Affairs standing right in front of me.
The photographer who took their pictures also perished in the incident, but fortunately, another person's photo survived, making it easy to remember.
...Definitely. I'd seen some of those faces in the newspapers.
'Should I stop it?'
The Aung San Mausoleum bombing wasn't well-known now, but it had a massive impact on South Korea's capabilities.
Even in the 2020s, losing that many people at once would create an administrative vacuum hard to fill, let alone in the 1980s when highly educated people were extremely rare.
But... how could I stop it?
The thought that saving them would mean I couldn't use my future knowledge didn't even cross my mind. My full involvement would derail the future anyway, and forging ties with the core of power made it worth using.
But how?
"...Are you okay?"
Just then, Kim Hae-ik approached. I barely calmed my pounding heart and stared up at him intently.
This was... a chance. Even if I had to act a bit outrageously, I had to give him some kind of warning somehow.
Somehow.
If he heeded my words and survived, it'd be a huge gain. If he dismissed it as nonsense, it wouldn't harm me at all.
After all, he'd die if not for me.
No loss if it failed, massive gain if it succeeded. Only a fool would let this slip.
"...Yes. I'm fine. But isn't Burma dangerous? The grown-ups said overseas is risky, that's why Dad died too. Be careful, Uncle."
I said that and bobbed my head like a normal kid imitating an adult.
"..."
As expected, Kim Hae-ik wasn't the type to tell a child who'd lost her parents, "Your father didn't die in a tragic accident—he just got drunk and drove himself to his death."
Instead, his eyes flashed with interest as he posed a different question.
"How did you know? That I'm going to Burma."
"...I saw it in the newspapers and news. They said the president is super busy with an overseas trip, some guys in suits were talking about it. I figured someone as important as you, Mr. Senior Presidential Secretary—no, Blue House Senior Presidential Secretary for Economic Affairs—would go along. You arrived looking all busy, so... you're leaving today, right?"
"That's right. Six years old, was it? You're smart. Grandfather must be proud."
He gave a wry smile tinged with admiration or pity.
"Thank you."
I bowed my head politely. By the time I looked up again, his shadow over me was gone.
Kim Hae-ik rubbed his eyes, shadowed by dark circles, as he prepared to leave the funeral. He wasn't a chaebol chairman, just the chairman's third son who died. With departure tomorrow, he probably wanted whatever sleep he could get.
'...That might've been a bit weak. Will my words from earlier really change the future?'
I kept up my polite facade, but inside I was burning up.
He was only still here out of courtesy for showing up just to pay respects and leave—it would've been rude otherwise. His mind was already on the next schedule.
'What do I do? Just tell him outright? What if I get labeled as spouting nonsense to Chairman Yoo Seong-pil?'
The moment that thought hit me, I realized something.
Ah.
That's right.
I was just a little kid. The youngest granddaughter of a chaebol family, whose words no one would take seriously, no matter what.
Whatever I did here would be forgotten as a mere incident in a few days. They'd chalk it up to a child saying self-centered kid stuff.
I could excuse it as trauma from losing both parents.
Pat pat pat.
"...Mr. Senior Secretary."
I toddled over to him on short legs.
He paused.
"What's wrong?"
He looked at me curiously but kept his kind demeanor. In the 1980s, few men showed this much kindness to a little girl.
'As expected. Too good an opportunity to pass up.'
I put on a serious face and spoke in a clear voice.
"Watch out for terrorists. Especially in Burma—it's a socialist country, right?"
"Hahaha. That again? It'll be fine. South Korea's intelligence isn't that incompetent."
Fortunately, he saw it as childish playfulness and didn't scold me harshly.
Others were more upset. From the nanny to my eldest uncle, who usually ignored me, they all tried to stop me.
"Oh dear. I-I'm sorry. She's still young..."
"Ha-yeon, this is where grown-ups talk. I know it's tough, but go rest inside, okay?"
No one frowned or scolded me aggressively, probably because I was the kid who'd lost both parents.
In that case, time to exploit it further.
When something holding you back hesitates, you strike like lightning.
"You know, right? Even the intelligence guys and the Foreign Minister really didn't want to go because of terror threats—"
Grab.
"Ha-yeon. Let's go now."
My eldest uncle naturally scooped me up and carried me inside.
"Phew. Ha-yeon, we almost disrespected an important guest. Little girls shouldn't meddle in grown-up business. Got it? Whew. Lucky he found it cute—"
I lowered my eyes and let his lecture go in one ear and out the other, killing time.
'Good. I've done what I could.'
All that was left was to wait.
The terror was set to happen anyway, so time would reveal who was right.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Two days later. October 9.
"Tsk. Didn't see this coming."
I grumbled in my small room, fiddling with my calf still red from the beating.
Yeah. I'd been dragged out of the funeral hall and brought to Chairman Yoo Jin-cheol's house. And as a bonus, ten strokes of the switch.
The former wasn't especially odd. Funerals take a long time, and kids don't usually stay long.
Even I had been nodding off. It was best for everyone if a child under ten didn't linger in a funeral hall.
Still, getting beaten was a bit much. Had I overestimated 1980s human rights awareness?
'Anyway, it's good. I'm living at Grandfather's house now.'
I'd expressed my opinion a bit aggressively, but... it wasn't like I was talking complete nonsense.
The Foreign Minister and diplomatic officials had opposed the Burma trip over terror threats, so I'd just echoed existing concerns.
Grandfather had heard about it and just frowned once.
"Oh my. Are you okay, miss?"
The nanny bringing breakfast wiped fake tears at my still-red calf.
"Psh. It's fine. What's the big deal?"
No, maybe not fake? She sure cried a lot. Just because I'd lost both parents young.
...Thinking about it objectively, yeah, it was pitiful. If my mind weren't so tough, it would've been rough.
I wolfed down breakfast, then pushed it away claiming it tasted bad. That wasn't important now.
Ding.
Phew. This is why Grandfather's house rocks. I get the precious TV all to myself.
I turned on the TV and focused anxiously on the news. Today was the day of the bombing.
Time crawled by.
9 a.m.
Ding—the chime sounded, and the 9 o'clock news began.
[Today, President Jeon Du-gwang...]
As usual, it started with the president's schedule. What adults called "penny news." In peacetime, it prioritized fluff, but not today.
'Hmm, the bombing was around 10:30 a.m. their time... accounting for time difference, noon... ah.'
I'd made a mistake. No way morning news would report it!
Too 21st-century thinking. I'd forgotten 20th-century "breaking news" was rare. Without conscious focus, even perfect memory doesn't trigger.
Plus, the time difference was bigger than expected. It'd be 12:30 at least.
Phew.
Maybe in the evening paper. No, considering reporting guidelines...
Damn.
"..."
Tick tock. Tick tock.
Time passed, and the clock crept past noon toward 1 p.m.
Static.
I'd turned on the radio just in case, but it offered no real news.
'Should I just nap and check later?'
Too long focusing, my body was giving out. Even with good stamina, anyone would tire.
Time dragged on, my mind a whirlwind of worries.
Did Kim Hae-ik die? Or did the butterfly effect save him? What about the others...
Knock knock.
Then, a knock at the door. The clock read 11:20 a.m.
"...The Chairman is calling for you, miss."
Grandfather's sunglass-wearing bodyguard summoned me in a solemn voice.
Ah.
It had finally come.
The opportunity.