The Weight of the Law (7)
It's the summer of 1992 now. Schindler's List hasn't even started filming yet—hell, they haven't even finished casting. That's why Spielberg looked pretty sane, thankfully. It's also why I showed up early. If I'd barged in mid-shoot, he probably would've chewed me out and kicked me to the curb.
"Long time no see. Did you come after seeing the news too?"
Spielberg shot me a look that said, We're not exactly buddies, are we? I gave him some serious advice in response.
"Yeah, to be honest, that's exactly it. I have a feeling this movie's gonna be a massive hit."
There aren't many directors who hate a box-office smash. It's not just about the money—it's the surest sign you've satisfied a ton of people, and profits are the hardest metric to fake.
"Haha, thanks for saying that. Nobody else thinks it'll sell, and honestly, neither do I. Kids these days don't go for black-and-white films, so I've been worried sick... But if a young one like you says so, I guess I should believe it."
Spielberg, not even fifty yet and still young at heart, replied. I continued very carefully.
"I get where you're coming from, and it'd be rude to tell you to back out of the donation. But... you're gonna end up donating way more than you expect."
He grinned at me. "It's fine. I'm already financially free as a bird. Whether it's Schindler's List or Jurassic Park profits, I'd gladly give it up for my convictions."
Of course. Spielberg's loaded—even by 2020 standards, and back in the '90s, he was the richest director around. I don't know the exact figure, but a few billion dollars, easy.
Good thing my hunch was right. Any lingering guilt I had vanished.
"No, that's not what I meant... Donating directly is kinda inefficient. Because of taxes..."
"Ah, taxes." He nodded like it made perfect sense. Donations get hit hard too.
"Running it through a foundation would be better. I know it's overstepping, but I couldn't just watch..."
"Not at all. That was my plan anyway. Well, more precisely, I was gonna set up the foundation myself."
"Really?"
Unexpected. I didn't think he was this serious... Did he do that in the original timeline?
Who knows. Not my area of interest.
Luckily, the best option had come up naturally, smoothing things over.
"Whoa, impressive as expected. Truth is, I'm not from this world myself. My major's finance, and my family's in it too, so I know a bit—"
I rambled on like a total fanboy. Mixing in chit-chat made these personal talks easier. Not hard—I'd always been a good actor, and I really was a fan.
"Heck, I might owe my English skills to you. Grew up bingeing American movies to learn it. Oh, and I have a bit of a connection to Alpha Fund—one of their fund managers—"
I stubbornly kept the conversation going, etching info deep into his brain fast. Nothing immediately useful, but it'd bias any future info he got. Cognitive bias, baby.
...
So what was the director actually thinking? Honestly, not much.
He'd set up the foundation, and whatever came after... the people in charge would handle it. That stuff was at least a year out. Right now, filming was the priority.
Normally, he wouldn't bother with this small talk, but... somehow, she had land in Poland. Perfect for the shoot too. Listening to a fan and scoring free use? No-brainer for a director.
Movies first, then foundations and whatever. He was a rich "director," and he didn't want to be anything else.
Her advice was well-meaning and useful, sure... but whatever. Not his interest.
In this fight, the key was waiting. Months of it already, and more to come. Big pictures always drag like that.
I'd tossed out the Schindler's List bait, so now... let it grow. Probably a year.
Not sitting idle, though. Focusing on one thing is amateur hour. I juggle several deals and schemes daily.
Thank God Lee Si-hyun's competent—Russia's on autopilot. Busiest time of my life, hands down.
Gonna get worse.
And it did. I kept insanely busy.
Cha Ba-da, unknowingly shaped by me, bonded successfully with the future president sniffing around politics. Now I had a controllable variable there too.
Seo Ji-yeon shocked everyone—by second semester, she rocketed to second in school. With me at first, that was basically top spot.
Seeing her potential, I started teaching her basic economics, management, and emperor studies. Realizing she'd been tapped as next chief of staff, she beamed with loyalty.
Didn't expect her to move in, though...
Eh, good's good. Better a loyal friend washing my body than some distant servant.
Anyway, back to the recap...
Yoo Sun-jun, Daeha's firstborn grandson, was slipping Yoo Jin-seok's grip. Thanks to my tips and Grandpa's backing.
Daeha tradition favored early independence, and my influence cemented it.
Yoo Jin-ha? No clue what he's scheming. Don't care. His only leash on me, Lee Si-hyun, was gone where even betrayal wasn't an option.
Speaking of, Alpha Fund and Lee Si-hyun's Red Mafia ran smooth without me. Loaded with talent and leaders—expected.
End-of-century Russia and global finance hubs overflowed with golden hires from nowhere. I just dropped occasional orders, managed conflicts.
Pigmalion Soft, fresh off a killer CG tool launch, was in good hands with Mai-ryeon and her otaku crew.
MS Korea branch, tied to them, got my attention—market share climbed steeper than my past life.
My home base, Daeha Securities and Daeha Investment Bank, was stacking competent staff. Ha Joo-seong praised endlessly: impossible in Korea's finance desert.
Lagging merchant banks panicked harder than history—borrowing shady short-term notes from sketchy foreign banks like it was nothing.
Can't blame 'em. Who'd think Berlin-Bearings Bank would scam?
Oh, and our bank (not Woori Bank, but BBB) was now so famous, everyone knew it by initials.
Time flowed like water. End of 1992.
Schindler's List wrapped. Premiere got rave reviews... and with my subtle nudge, the Shoah Foundation launched way ahead of schedule.
Courtesy of a fat donation from some Wall Street Jewish financier.
All as I predicted.
Heart pounding.
Premiere done... tomorrow, the modest foundation party.
Madoff's coming too—pledged hundreds of millions. Meeting a Wall Street senior got me a bit excited.
If he hadn't crashed so hard in my past life, I might've repeated it. In a way, my anti-teacher.
Confucius said it: walk with three, one's your master.
He taught even slick Ponzi schemes bust eventually.
Still, he lasted way longer than I would've... good student?
Eh, forget the details. Yoo Ha-yeon doesn't pull low-rent scams—she's a good, kind girl.