The Weight of the Law (4)

Thankfully, the Madoff Fund wasn't on that massive scale yet. Sure, it was still in the tens of billions of dollars, but it wasn't like my past life, where every major institution had piled in. Right now, the Madoff Fund relied heavily on assets from niche groups like the Jewish community and select wealthy individuals.

"…."

The law firm president, who knew this all too well, sank into thought.

"To be honest with you... I'm not entirely sure. How was this even possible?"

"Hmm, we'll figure that out from here on. Even if it's a Ponzi scheme, we can still recover some of it—at least mine, though not everything."

I propped my chin on my hand and stroked my cheek, looking deep in contemplation.

John Quinn, prioritizing the recovery of his client's funds, finally nodded. "Ah, right. Even in a Ponzi scheme that's dragged on this long... we can claw back a decent amount."

After decades, anyone who hadn't claimed their money probably never would. And the Madoff Fund was sitting on a mountain of cash—it just wasn't being invested. So pulling out my money right away would be straightforward. If it had been structured to make withdrawals impossible, I never would've thrown good money after bad in the first place.

Understanding this, the president asked cautiously, "If recovering the money isn't the main goal, then perhaps...?"

I blinked as if it were obvious. "Hmm? Of course we have to report it... right? Getting my money back is one thing. I just haven't moved yet because of potential legal complications."

Reporting a scam this enormous takes guts, especially when you're not one hundred percent sure it's a scam. To anyone who knows Yoo Ha-yeon, it'd just be her stirring up trouble again. But... he was different.

"Whew... yeah. A scam this big means tons of victims. And mostly wealthy clients, too."

First off, he didn't know me that well. He just saw me as a young, upright investor with a strong sense of justice—the type who'd step up during the LA riots without a scratch on her. So from his perspective, me reporting this wasn't weird at all. I'd done it before.

And crucially... for a lawyer, this was a case too big to ignore. It meant money.

. . .

Unmasking Madoff's scam boils down to two steps.

1. Make contact with the Jewish community.

2. Accuse it of being a fraud and force withdrawals somehow.

That's it. After that, it'll unravel on its own.

Too easy? That's the thing—it's bizarre it hasn't been exposed yet. Madoff will pull out all the stops to bury me.

John Quinn pondered briefly before admitting his limits honestly. "I'm sorry, but I don't have the clout yet to approach the Jewish community... I might need to refer you elsewhere...?"

He seemed to be stepping back, but greed flickered in his eyes. How could it not? A multibillion-dollar Ponzi scheme. Fees alone would be at least ten million.

I gave a slight smile, deciding to meet his expectations. "No worries there. I've got an ace up my sleeve."

Ahem.

I cleared my throat to set the mood. "You know I was in Hollywood because of the LA riots, right?"

I spoke softly, weaving a dreamy, ethereal vibe—like a young man meeting a longtime idol.

"Ah, yes. Hollywood, so...?"

"I met Director Spielberg. He mentioned he'd invested in the Madoff Fund. That's what got me into it, you could say... Ahaha, looking back, his financial instincts were a bit off."

-Rustle.

A fluttering page from Schindler's List dropped with a soft thud.

"Conveniently, I've got the perfect card to play with the Jewish community."

I flashed a bright eye smile.

Schindler's List. The masterpiece by famed director Steven Spielberg, a black-and-white film released in late 1993. Technically, some scenes—like those depicting the present—were in color, with the past in monochrome, but it was still a bold stylistic choice.

The key point? It's a film about the Holocaust and the Jewish people. The director and many crew members were Jewish. It strengthened the identity of post-WWII Jews, making it a true masterpiece.

Wasting that would be a shame, right?

So... I latched onto it somehow and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pushed the release forward by half a year. It was tough. The schedule was already booked.

And I couldn't just skip the prior film—it was Jurassic Park, set for three months starting in August. But thanks to the cutting-edge CG tools I developed, we wrapped it up way faster.

-"This is too high-spec for a game engine... You sure this tool was made for games?"

Poor Mai-ryeon got ground down by overwork without knowing why, but I paid her handsomely, so it's fine.

Strictly speaking, my first meeting with the director wasn't on Schindler's List—it was during Jurassic Park's post-production.

-"Ahaha, hello! I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yoo Ha-yeon, developer from Pygmalion Soft. Wow, I've wanted to meet you forever. Nice to meet you."

-"I'm actually a huge fan of yours, Director. My dad is too... Mind if I ask about your next project?"

-"No way, Schindler's List is gonna be a massive hit, right? Huh? Not interested in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠box office? Come on, don't say that...!"

. . .

Yeah, something like that. While handling the LA riots, I knocked this out too. A couple of era-transcending computer geniuses can deliver CG work even a Hollywood titan can't ignore.

Nod nod.

"That's why we start exposing the scam by late 1993. Once Schindler's List drops, Spielberg becomes a megastar in Jewish circles. If he steps in personally, even Madoff can't fight it."

"…."

Lee Si-hyun gave me a strange look. I stretched my arms wide, basking in praise, then poked my chest with my fingers.

"Hmph, and you give me that look after seeing my genius? Praise me already."

"Miss, this is really... unrelated, right?"

I stared at her blankly, as if clueless. "Unrelated? To what?"

"You know. The Soviet collapse, these riots, Barings Bank, all this...?"

"Okay, I did take down Barings Bank. But the Soviets collapsed before I was even born, didn't they? I'm hurt, Si-hyun."

"Fine, predicting this black-and-white flick—even the director didn't expect to be a smash hit—that aside... Your plans are too intricate. How long have you been plotting this?"

Well, I've known for ages. If anyone time-traveled pre-WWII, they'd check on Hitler first. Same for me.

"I just knew. 'Those numbers scream scam.' Then when the time was right, I moved."

"…."

She didn't drop the suspicion, but Lee Si-hyun sighed softly and stroked my hair.

"Okay, got it. Still, it'd be nice if you trusted me a bit more and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gave me a heads-up."

"Why? I trust you plenty. Yup, totally."

"Sigh. Then at least warn me so I can brace myself?"

"Nah, your reactions would get boring."

I ignored my grumbling chief secretary and eyed the two letters from Universal Pictures, penning replies. The first thanked me for attending the premiere—basically, "pay up." The second was thanks for tech consulting on Jurassic Park. Nothing major, so just a reply.

I carefully wrote to avoid mix-ups with my affiliation. Sending under Alpha Fund by mistake would be disastrous.

Of course, I didn't forget to manage Alpha Fund and Berlin Bank amid it all. Seriously, if only I had five bodies. If I did, I'd use the extras for jerking off, but anyway... .

"Just a bit longer. Jurassic Park wrapped shooting, and Schindler's List starts soon."

Borrowing Spielberg's connections made it feasible. I glanced up at the sky.

"...Hot."

Early summer, yet sweltering. Maybe the full suit—tie and all, unusual for a woman—added to it. The black suit's weight felt heavier than expected.