[French Socialist Party... proposes amendment to labor law. Republican Party sees unexpected defections... A divided Republican Party? Some claim the Prime Minister’s political clout has weakened.]
[Mitterrand: “In difficult times, we must cooperate with labor unions”... Accepts Crédit Lyonnais privatization demands, but warns “reckless privatization will harm the economy.”]
[Communist Party pushes for 35-hour workweek... Says 39 hours is still too much.]
I smiled faintly as I read the newspaper brought from France. This time, luck was on my side.
‘The Prime Minister knows when to strike and retreat. Looks like I don’t need to interfere.’
At the very least, it seemed this recession could avoid being remembered as a failure of neoliberalism.
“All right, class is over for today. Don’t forget your finals! Study well, okay?”
‘Hm, it’s already over.’
I glanced at the students rushing out of the classroom.
Even if going to the U.S. was an option, traveling to France right now was difficult. So I remained in Korea, still attending school.
A few kids curiously peeked over at me, seemingly amazed that I was reading a foreign newspaper.
“Wow... A real chaebol heiress reads stuff like that. Is it in English?”
A boy with wide eyes asked. His voice was still high and light, probably because his voice hadn’t changed yet.
“Haha, it’s a French newspaper. Want to see?”
“Hmm, I’m good. But Ha-yeon, can I ask you something?”
“Hmm? Sure, go ahead.”
I nodded lazily. I liked showing off my knowledge, after all.
“Five dollars is about five thousand won, right? Like, assuming a thousand won per dollar.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Then how much is one dollar in the U.S.?”
What... is he even talking about?
I was briefly stunned before answering.
“One dollar is... one dollar?”
“No, I mean... how much is that in Korean won?”
“Then it’s just a thousand won, isn’t it?”
“That’s from our perspective. But Americans use a dollar the way we use one won, right?”
I stayed silent. Not because I was speechless, but because I genuinely didn’t understand what he was trying to say.
Didn’t he learn about exchange rates in social studies?
That’s odd. At least at Daehwa Middle School, I know we’ve already introduced an advanced education curriculum...
“...Did you get in with something other than academics?”
Maybe he sensed the bite in my words, because he hesitated and replied sheepishly.
“Oh? Uh, yeah. I got in through music. I play piano pretty well.”
Well, that’s fair. I’ll have to use him later as a BGM generator for game development.
Come to think of it, maybe that’s why he’s interested in foreign newspapers—he must be thinking about studying abroad...
“You need to study a bit harder. Hmm, just join my club. Got it?”
“Huh, really? Are you sure that’s okay?”
I gave his shoulder a light pat in encouragement. He didn’t seem too happy about being looked at with pity, though...
Still, if your brain isn’t top-tier, you’d better move your body. If his parents had been poorer, he probably wouldn’t even have had the option of pursuing the arts—he’s lucky, honestly.
There were two main reasons I couldn’t go to France.
One: the money was being handled primarily by the Alpha Fund in the U.S., so my travel was focused there rather than France.
And two... to be honest, I was a little scared.
“You’re scared of something, miss?”
Seo Ji-yeon tilted her head as we walked home from school together. She was carrying my backpack for me.
“Plenty. First off, losing money scares me... I also have mild claustrophobia. Oh, and dying. That’s kind of scary too.”
Dying once taught me that much. I don’t remember the exact moment I died, but I do recall the sheer terror of it. Once was more than enough... it was that kind of thing.
Seo Ji-yeon gave my side a gentle poke and laughed softly.
“That’s unexpected. Or maybe not... But what does that have to do with not going to France?”
“I went on a Europe trip a long time ago. I saw the Berlin Wall fall in real time. It was spectacular. But anyway, back then, I went to France and felt it was a bit dangerous. Especially for... my chastity.”
Even as a child, I had that issue. But now I looked like a full-grown adult. Just imagining the attention I’d get in France was exhausting. Sometimes, my own beauty terrifies me.
Even if I took bodyguards, flaunting my looks too openly might ruin my plans.
I mean, picture it—a suspiciously gorgeous East Asian woman striding through Paris flanked by a few guards. How could that not draw attention?
So I can’t go now. Also, I refuse to cover my face—it would hurt my pride.
“I want to say that’s narcissism, but looking at your face... yeah, I get it. Ha, you really are something else. I feel sorry for the boys in our class sometimes.”
“Hey, they should be grateful. Do you know how many boys want to be in my class when the year changes?”
I straightened my shoulders proudly.
With a bright, clear smile, I laughed lightly.
“...That’s what I mean. It’s too much. You keep leading them on even though you’ve got no intention of dating anyone. Ugh, what now? More of these weirdos sent love letters?”
She fished a handful of letters out of my bag, sorted them for recycling, and sighed deeply.
[HiHa-yeonI’velikedyoueversinceIsawyouIwantedtoconfessbeforetheexambutIwasascaredycatnowIjustwanttoshoutIloveyouinfrontofeveryonemyheartpoundseverydayatyoureveryglanceineveryclubactivityIsawonlyyouIthoughtonlyofyouIt’sbeenlikethissinceMarch...]
I looked away. This isn’t really my fault, is it?
All I did was listen kindly, smile a lot, and occasionally drop some sly innuendos.
“Guilty! Guilty! Boo, you should be ashamed! No wonder you’re scared of going to France with those habits.”
“Well... you’re not wrong.”
In France, “conservative” doesn’t mean what it means elsewhere. Especially not sexually—there’s barely a difference across political parties in that regard.
For example... there was a future incident where the French president was revealed to have a mistress. The controversy? Not that he had a mistress. It was that he was riding an Italian motorcycle. That was the actual scandal.
The mistress part was brushed aside.
Even President Mitterrand is known to have multiple mistresses. It’s normal in France.
In Bernard Werber’s famous novel The Ants, there’s a line that goes something like: “A 19-year-old virgin? You’d only find that in science fiction...”
“Honestly, that country’s just too open. Even Seon-jun oppa said he got hit on a lot when he went.”
My face flushed. How do they just... do that?
“Sure, sure. Acting all wild but secretly you’re a virtuous, innocent lady—our prim and proper little miss.”
I shook my head and sat in the car, staring out the window.
‘Come to think of it... I’ve really gotten used to living as a girl now.’
I gently smoothed the hem of my skirt. The chilly weather made my legs ache through the thin stockings.
I used to be really averse to skirts, but that feeling was completely gone now.
Unless it was for fashion, I’d probably wear skirts all the time. Long pants just get in the way.
Honestly, short ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ skirts are even more comfortable than pants—as long as you don’t care about people seeing up them.
“Ugh, miss. Would you please wear shorts underneath? What if some kid sees?”
As I adjusted the hem of my school skirt, Seo Ji-yeon gave me a look. She’d gotten a little corrupted by hanging out with me, but she was still pretty conservative when it came to sex.
“Then what’s the point of wearing a skirt?”
I answered without thinking, and her face turned bright red.
“...What are you talking about? I just meant shorts as in, you know, actual shorts under the skirt. Not like I’m flashing people on purpose.”
“Ugh... I’m not so sure about that.”
She kept eyeing me suspiciously and spent a while nagging me to dress more modestly.
Seriously, she’s not my mom.
“...Anyway, you haven’t been going to the office lately. Is everything okay? Not that I’m complaining...”
“It’s fine. I already issued all my orders. A company that can’t run without me isn’t a real company, right?”
Seo Ji-yeon nodded. With her head bobbing like a little puppy wagging its tail, it was actually kind of cute.
“You’re right. A corporation depending on a moody middle school girl would be tragic.”
Heh, your dad wouldn’t last a week without me, though...
“Hm, but then why do you keep reading French newspapers and reports every day? You don’t really need to...”
“It’s fine if nothing happens. But if something unexpected goes down, I have to step in.”
My crisis response ability isn’t perfect yet. My organization is still loosely linked around me, and in certain situations, physical communication without me just isn’t possible.
“By unexpected, you mean... unpredictable events?”
Exactly. My calculations are perfect, but the world doesn’t always follow the script.
“Yeah. You never know. A plane full of important people could crash and paralyze a government, or a terrorist group could blow up a skyscraper in New York. That kind of thing is beyond even my prediction.”
“...Come on, how often does stuff like that really happen?”
Seo Ji-yeon replied skeptically, but I was dead serious.
When enough variables pile up, they become constants. Earthquakes and volcanic eruptions aren’t everyday concerns, but to a geologist poring over centuries of records, they’re just part of the pattern.
For someone like me, who moves across global networks and shifts the tide, ignoring those possibilities isn’t just careless—it’s incompetent.
“Ji-yeon, a mayfly thinks sunrise is a huge event... but humans don’t blink at it.”
Booms and busts are as natural as the sun rising and setting. And I’ve seen plenty of financial crises worthy of a total eclipse.
That’s why I never fully let my guard down.
A few months later, in the French presidential office.
What happened next was something neither I—who had planned this entire board—nor the Prime Minister who executed it, nor anyone except Mitterrand’s personal physician, had anticipated.
And yet... it was also something everyone had imagined at least once.
With the Socialist Party’s aggressive inaction handing both labor and power to President Mitterrand, he was as diligent as ever in his work.
That was the problem. He took on even what the Prime Minister should’ve handled.
“Mr. President! A-Are you all right?! We have to get him to a hospital—!”
The date was January 8, 1994.
President François Mitterrand passed away due to worsening prostate cancer brought on by overwork.