The Weight of the Law (6)
“Nah, it'd be a bit conspicuous if we did it ourselves. There's a good guy on Wall Street, right? A respected Jewish figure with a fund that guarantees stable returns—the former Nasdaq chairman.”
The plan to dump all the Schindler's List profits into the Madoff Fund. Even I had to admit it was genius.
“...I-is that really okay? We know about it, after all.”
“Know what?”
“That the Madoff Fund is a scam. And since the lawyer knows too, doesn't this count as aiding and abetting a fraud?”
“It's fine. Lawyers have a duty to keep their clients' secrets.”
My direct subordinates, Ha Young-il and Lee Si-hyun, exchanged glances.
‘As expected, the young lady's acting just like herself today.’
‘In the time I haven't seen her, her conscience has gotten even thinner. I have no idea what she's learning at school.’
I furrowed my brow.
“Don't get any weird ideas. I'm just suggesting options. The choice is up to them.”
And there's nothing for me to learn at school. That's why I treat it like a club hangout. Seo Ji-yeon sometimes questions my high ethics scores, but understanding human morality and philosophy is a different matter. Middle school ethics is basically philosophy 101, and regardless of my inclinations, I had a deep grasp of most people's universal morals and humanities.
“When you throw a lifeline to someone on the edge of a cliff, it's not a choice—it's coercion, young lady.”
“Whatever, you'll end up as the sun and moon anyway. And my lifeline's plenty sturdy.”
“The problem is you sometimes enjoy whipping them with it.”
Honestly, at my level, it should be fine.
“Ha, how about I check out Si-hyun's back while we're at it? Give me a real lashing?”
“...I hope you don't turn into one of Russia's typical oligarchs, young lady.”
It was half-joking, but laced with truth.
“...Is that common?”
“Yes, very. Guys who line up dozens of women and rape them, who film disgusting child porn, who ruin promising female college students with drugs and turn them into sex slaves... That's modern Russia for you.”
Lee Si-hyun looked at me with serious eyes. Having weathered storms and become a full-fledged Russian oil tycoon, her threshold for shock must have risen quite a bit.
I pouted. Even so, comparing me to those scum felt unfair.
“Got it. You're nothing like that trash. Take this time—even if the method's a bit off, it's punishing a scammer in the end. ...So I hope you stay different going forward.”
I could read the sliver of expectation in her words, so I nodded.
“Of course. I'm always extraordinary. Chasing ordinary, low-level... one-dimensional desires like that? Not for me.”
Lee Si-hyun chuckled softly.
“And yet you pursue the most primal urges more than anyone. I'll accommodate your bizarre tastes, young lady, but keep your desires in check—moderately.”
“I'm good. I'm quenching them plenty right now.”
I smiled back and gazed into the distance. Toward the greatest scammer of all time. My endless desires had finally found an oasis after so long, guzzling it down greedily.
My head was spinning. Was this really right?
Steven Spielberg, preparing to shoot Schindler's List in Poland, felt a tightness in his chest.
Was it this horrific? This devastating? The Holocaust?
Am I Jewish? Or just an American with Jewish family?
His thoughts churned on.
Do I even have the right to make this film? Isn't it just Jewish whining, as someone said? Wouldn't someone else be better suited?
But no one else stepped up...
Suddenly, he felt a pang of blasphemy.
There was an old Jewish custom: only the Levites among the twelve tribes could touch the Ark of the Covenant. In King David's time, Uzzah reached out to steady the tipping Ark and dropped dead on the spot.
The Holocaust wasn't a burnt offering despite the name—it was pure slaughter. Yet its endless blasphemy felt almost sacred in reverse.
This... wasn't for a mere film director to touch. It should have been handled with more reverence, less commercialism.
‘Schindler's List? Ooh, this could be a hit too.’
He recalled the young Asian woman who advised on Jurassic Park. She said it smiling, but...
Blood money. Processing fellow kin's history for mass media and selling it. Profiting off deaths that weren't even hers, ones she hadn't felt until scripting the film. This money couldn't be taken. It had to be donated...
But to whom? He knew to pick foundations carefully. Backlash from a bad one would insult Holocaust—Shoah (השואה)—survivors.
‘Is there a worthy foundation?’
He didn't know. Before this film, he'd been ignorant of the Holocaust details, let alone its foundations. That guilt deepened it further—total oblivion.
After deep thought, his conclusion mirrored his resolve making the film: I'll do it myself.
A historical foundation to document that horrific massacre. Shoah Foundation or something... Yeah, that fit, he thought.
. . .
Something unexpected happened.
“...I haven't even said anything yet?”
I'd been about to cautiously—hey, I have some shame—contact him about handing over the money when Spielberg declared he'd donate all his royalties himself.
I didn't know the details of the donation, but expecting it'd align perfectly with my wishes was too optimistic on my part. He might just give it straight to Holocaust survivors.
As summer hit, lounging on a beach chair at the shore, I mulled over the past.
What did I do wrong?
‘Too much to even think of...’
“Exactly. Phew. It's a relief our esteemed director escaped your wicked clutches, young lady.”
Seo Ji-yeon grinned brightly, kneading my shoulders.
“You just focus on rubbing more oil on my back. Hmph, talking without knowing a thing.”
Clueless about my schemes, she thought Spielberg was suffering because of me. Not true. Really.
“You know, young lady? Even if you don't know exactly what someone's doing, you can guess from their nature. Like, if a firefighter enters a house, it's probably on fire. But if it's a thief... they're there to steal, right?”
“...”
This was... a clear logical fallacy.
I wanted to school my foolish subordinate, but I couldn't.
Squish.
“Eek! Hnngh... Hyah!”
My mouth—my mouth's blocked!
“S-sand... Gahk.”
“Huh?”
I'm really choking—how hard did she press? I can barely breathe.
Misreading my reaction, Seo Ji-yeon shook her head and glanced around. People, dazzled by my beauty, kept stealing looks.
Hey, not that way—look at me!
“...Seriously, you're probably the only one topless with tanning oil in a place like this. And your skin doesn't even burn much.”
What? I'm properly covered below. And yeah, as she said, I don't need this oil anyway... Urgh, whatever, gloss over it.
“Oh, ah... You okay with the sand?”
Finally noticing, she rushed over.
“The sand's honored to be in my mouth, so it's fine. But I'm not...”
I half-covered my chest, coughing and grimacing like I'd chewed grit. Which I had.
“S-sorry!”
Seeing her bow deeply in apology eased my mood. Yeah, she's dim but sweet.
“It's okay. And... your analogy has a logical flaw. Hmph, using weird metaphors to belittle me.”
“Ah, yes...”
This was good for me, actually. A boon.
“The money's destined to come to me. Because I'll make it so.”
“Young lady, your clothes first...”
I clenched my fists with steely resolve. Giggles erupted around us, but I ignored them.
‘First, cancel the Madoff exposé Alpha Fund ran and issue an apology...’
To donate profits, there had to be profits first. Donating post-Schindler's List release meant time on my side.
I needed to form a foundation before then. Charity galas upcoming, nonprofit ops flooded my mind.
Thoughts raced on; I sank into my own world, tuning out the surroundings.
‘Yeah, money doesn't go anywhere. It circulates, creating profit and value for all—that's capitalism.’
And ideally, in a way that helped the Jewish community... Most would think the same.
. . .
Days later, I made direct contact with Spielberg. Not as a mere technical advisor, but as an Alpha Fund investor with ties.