The Devil's Blueprint
The words I'd spoken out of pity—'Dad, Mom, there is no Santa'—were tightening around my throat like a noose. It was Christmas, and I'd felt bad watching my parents sneak around at dawn, carefully placing presents without us knowing.
Well, good deeds don't always come back nicely, do they…
Father gave me an incredulous look, shook his head, and turned away. He probably didn't even know where to begin with the scolding. They might be parents of two, but in truth they were around the same age as I'd been in my past life. We could've easily grabbed drinks together, calling each other hyung or dongsaeng with zero awkwardness. Plus, this was Dad's first time being a father, so it made sense he'd be confused facing children like Ji-ah and me.
But Mom? She was on another level. She must've felt the same way, yet the moment Dad faltered, her lecture came flying in.
"Seo-ah. Mom and Dad will support whatever dream you choose, but causing a scene in front of all the other children and parents isn't polite. Even your teacher was so flustered she couldn't continue speaking."
I nearly pouted. Weren't those the same people who had been assaulting me with their stares? Life at seven wasn't easy enough that I needed to worry about adult social faces… Was this yet another weight I had to carry in this life?
"Sorry…"
My parents, who had been sitting with stern expressions, offered faint smiles at my attitude and nodded. With my turn apparently over, their gazes shifted to Yoon Ji-ah. I cheered silently. I'd already forgotten I was the one getting scolded moments ago. Now it was time for that capitalist devil to face judgment.
As their attention locked onto Yoon Ji-ah, I subtly leaned back and claimed a front-row seat. What could be more entertaining than watching my little sister get chewed out? It was a shame there was no popcorn, but I still perked up my ears in eager anticipation.
"Yoon Ji-ah, don't you have anything to say about what you did at kindergarten today?"
Yoon Ji-ah lifted her juice glass, took a sip, and set it down quietly.
...Is Ji-ah some kind of aristocrat? Every single movement was elegant. It was all manufactured attitude, pure performance. A non-verbal way of saying she felt deeply empathetic toward the situation and was contemplating it seriously. After this she'd probably spout something like, I'm sorry, Father, but it was a strategic decision. Long-term perspective this, asset portfolio that, negative impact here, solution there—she was definitely about to unload all of it. This wasn't my first day or two dealing with Yoon Ji-ah.
But. That wicked bitch, that crazy X who could make the devil himself weep—
"...I'm sorry."
She started sobbing. Her voice trembled like she might burst into tears any second.
"Because my sister said something strange… I just wanted to help… But the teacher and my friends and all the uncles and aunties got so surprised. I didn't realize that would happen… It was my fault…"
Oh dear. I clicked my tongue inwardly. Both parents were starting to look flustered. It was understandable—the kid who usually showed only a cold, rational side was suddenly acting like this. She had struck right at their weak point by showing a side they couldn't have predicted. It was unlike Ji-ah, yet also very much like her.
"Our Ji-ah…"
"Hic… I'm sorry, Mom…"
Ji-ah rubbed her eyes. I rubbed my temples. Oh my head. With tears actually welling up like that, she belonged in the entertainment industry, not the financial world. Dad, the ultimate daughter-fool, softening his expression was inevitable. Actually, it wasn't just softening—he looked like he might start crying too.
"...Alright. Since Ji-ah is reflecting as well, let's be a little more careful from now on, okay?"
"Yes…"
"Seo-ah, you need to answer too."
"Yes…"
Ji-ah answered weakly, and I copied her.
"Now that you've both reflected, we'll end the discussion about today here. Shall we rest a bit and then go eat dinner?"
"Yes!!"
This was toddler life that had begun all the way from the womb. Shouting "Yes!" in an adorable voice wasn't even embarrassing anymore. Of course—
Pfft, look at this fully grown adult man shouting "Yes!" like that.
—I tried to pat my sister's side as she gave me that exact look, but Dad scolded me for it.
The moment we entered the room, Yoon Ji-ah tugged lightly at the hem of my shirt. I had no idea why she always did this in my room instead of her own.
"Sister, just a moment."
"...What?"
I'd grown used to the toddler-level speech and behavior, but the word "sister" still gave me goosebumps. I wasn't sure why. Maybe the memory of having been a man was still working on me subconsciously. For similar reasons, I couldn't bring myself to call anyone "hyung." Anyway, the Ji-ah who had called me glanced around, closed the door, and broke into a cold smile.
That!That expression! Dad should've seen it!
"What are you looking at? Never mind, look at this."
Ji-ah opened her notebook. Graphs and tables filled the pages. Had the attack on me already begun?
"Stop hating on liberal arts!"
"What are you even saying! Be quiet and look."
"What is this? Give me the one-line summary."
"Yoon Seo-ah Development and Management Plan."
".........?"
I was speechless. Just how far would Ji-ah's corruption go? A ruthless human who would scheme to sell out even her only older sister. At this point, calling her a devil felt like an understatement.
Whether I glared at her with eyes full of hatred and contempt or not, Ji-ah flipped the page and began her explanation.
"You'll read the newspaper with me three times a week and we'll discuss it. Piano and art lessons are mandatory, and you'll need to learn coding and foreign languages too."
A seven-year-old kindergartener was being asked to live a schedule harsher than my own college days.
"Daily Pilates… Ah, that might not exist yet at this point? Then we'll do light fitness PT instead. Of course we'll manage your diet, and you'll do speech training as well."
The more pages she turned, the harder it became to breathe. This wasn't a plan—it was a blueprint to remodel me into a cyborg.
"Are you insane? This is just erasing my personality!"
"Once you've acquired sufficient economic terminology, we'll move on to reading global market trends… I'll have you do mock investments, portfolio composition practice. Once you're on track, I'll provide seed money so you can try actual investing."
Ji-ah was clearly trying to turn me into the same kind of financial monster she was. And it didn't stop there. She kept flipping pages, reciting my future plans. Plans for my future that didn't reflect a single ounce of my own opinion.
When she reached the section for age nineteen—my third year of high school—I simply laughed. Laughter was all I could manage. According to that curriculum, by then I'd be fluent in at least eight languages, proficient in economics, humanities, and social sciences, and have mastered every kind of sport. On top of that, I'd have art and music as refined hobbies. I'd already be at a level where people could reasonably call me superhuman.
Confirming that my soul had left my body, Ji-ah gave a meaningful smile.
"Not to your taste? Then shall I tell you a more comfortable and reasonable method? The fastest, easiest way to become a rich unemployed person?"
"...Living as your dog seems like the quickest route."
"I don't like that idea."
We exchanged contemptuous glances for a moment, but Ji-ah clearly had no intention of ending the debate. She continued.
"The kids' model market last year was valued at around thirty billion won. Of that, the top one percent of models take seventy percent of total revenue."
"So?"
"With your face, sister, you can easily enter that top one percent."
Ji-ah's eyes sparkled. It was almost an optical illusion—like her pupils had turned into won coins and were gleaming gold.
"For big contracts you could exceed ten million, usually between three to five million. If you rise to the top tier, you could easily surpass ten million per job."
"...Ten million?"
"Yes. Not ten thousand won—ten million won."
I swallowed hard. Kids models already earned that much in this era? The devil was shaking my heart again.
"Imagine filming just twelve commercials a year. Simply one per month. It wouldn't interfere with your daily life, and you'd only work once a month, yet your annual salary would be in the hundreds of millions. How about it?"
"...That's actually really—wait, no. That's not all my money."
"After taxes and agency fees, you'd take home around sixty to seventy million?"
Ji-ah nodded. She seemed to think that amount would be enough to persuade me. Unfortunately… she was right. My heart was already pounding.
"And this is just the beginning. Once you build recognition as a model, you can transition into dramas, films, or variety shows. Annual salary of one to two hundred million? One project alone could pay that much."
"Hey, but I'm not really into that kind of—"
"You said you didn't want to live according to my plan, sister."
Ji-ah cut me off. That utterly arrogant move made me want to hit her with a Tombstone Piledriver, but since this was a serious conversation, the more mature me decided to endure. I took a deep breath and carved the word "patience" into my heart.
But my wicked sister, unaware of my inner turmoil, delivered the finishing blow.
"No matter what path you take, becoming the pretty, good-bodied, rich unemployed person of your dreams is impossible with your current lifestyle. You're lazy, idle, greedy—and on top of that, you're stupid too, aren't you?"
"...This bitch."
In the end, today's serious discussion about my life concluded the same way many sisterly conversations do: with us grabbing each other's hair.
"Let go!"
"You let go first."
After that day of our light opinion clash, Ji-ah returned to normal as if nothing had happened. In the mornings she read the newspaper to analyze the state of South Korea before attending kindergarten. After coming home, she would open professional textbooks and study. All the while fully performing her role as our family's economic advisor. The life of an ordinary seven-year-old.
It felt like the calm before a storm—like something big was about to explode. I spent every day trembling in fear, but strangely, Ji-ah didn't press me or shove that horrible plan in my face again.
I got chills wondering how badly she was planning to exploit me, but I decided there was no need to kick away the current peace. Time passed like that. I graduated from the smell of crayons, and before I knew it, I had turned eight. I had become a proper elementary school student.