I Became the Youngest Daughter of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 11: Earning Allowance (1)

After enrolling in elementary school, I started spending money like water and goofing off.

Hm.

To be honest, I was starting to enjoy the taste of spending money.

In preparation for the film industry that would begin developing post-democratization, I made early investments in production companies and threw money at promising scholars as well.

Professors who would never agree to meet a child no matter how politely she asked? If you said you were sponsoring their research, they'd bow their heads instantly.

Some of the professors I’d taken classes with in my past life were still grad students right now—and let me tell you, it was something. I almost slipped into using honorifics out of habit.

Honestly, I wanted to sprinkle some political funds around Donggyo-dong or Sangdo-dong, but that was still too dangerous of an investment for me to attempt. The New Military Regime was still firmly in power, after all.

Anyway, as a result of all that...

“...Now I’m out of money.”

That’s right.

I had no money left.

Well... about a hundred million won in cash?

***

Not that I was completely broke. Most of my assets were tied up in stocks, anyway.

“...Then isn’t that still fine? Chairman will probably give you plenty of allowance money.”

Lee Si-hyun made that pathetic comment as she stood there, looking clueless. Still no sense of money, this one.

A hundred million in cash? That’s chump change.

“Sigh, you want me to go begging to Grandpa? You’ve gotta handle your own affairs. Besides, if I did that, he’d definitely be disappointed.”

And more importantly, the most critical thing is this—

My myth would crumble.

“I told you, didn’t I? Making money is easy. Ridiculously easy. What I’m building is my own story. A myth that inspires people, like Grandpa’s legendary rise to wealth.”

That’s something money can’t buy. It becomes the arc of my life—and ultimately, my power.

Even ignorant nobodies from some backwater town think of Yoo Seong-pil as a great tycoon the moment they hear his name. Likewise, someday, when people hear the name Yoo Ha-yeon, they need to immediately think: the greatest success story of the 21st century.

“For someone saying that, you seem a bit short on cash right now.”

Lee Si-hyun muttered as she set down my snack. Sweet chocolate cake with warm milk. Not store-bought junk—this was handmade by a top-tier pâtissier.

“Mmm. Tastes good. Sweet and nice.”

Grateful for my miraculous body that didn’t gain weight no matter how much I ate, I savored the sweet flavor. Is this the taste of power...?

“That cake, and honestly everything else—you’re still paying for it with your own money, aren’t you? I mean, I don’t think anyone would blame you if you just used Chairman’s money....”

At that, I smiled.

“No. It has to be my money. That’s how you gain control. Once I’ve made some more money, I’m going to move out. I should start thinking about buying my own place.”

Grandpa’s house was nice, sure, but I wanted my own home now.

“A house? Why leave this amazing place...? No, more importantly—are you really going to start making money? Finally?”

Lee Si-hyun’s eyes sparkled. I’d talked so much about how easy it was to earn money, but up till now, all she’d seen was me spending it. I hadn’t really shown her what earning looked like.

Half of that was on purpose, of course. Makes it all feel more dramatic. The way I’d slowly broken down formalities and created a casual atmosphere lately? That was all part of the plan.

It’s just way more fun this way.

And now... now is the real start. If there were ever a 300-page biography of Yoo Ha-yeon, this would be somewhere around page 30. The beginning, basically.

“Yeah. It’s August now. Time to move. The exchange rate is about to go crazy.”

The Plaza Accord hits next month.

It’s when the yen–dollar exchange rate flips upside down.

***

“The exchange rate... is going to change?”

Lee Si-hyun asked, confused after hearing my explanation.

“Well, I kind of get it, but... how does that make money?”

I smiled sweetly and asked her back,

“Why don’t you think about it? You need to start learning to think for yourself.”

“Hearing that from an 8-year-old is... kind of fresh. Hmm. So we exchange dollars for yen in advance? Based on what you’re saying, that alone should double our profits, right?”

That’s technically true. The value of the yen would rise from 250 per dollar to 120. Just on currency conversion, that’s a 2x profit.

“But then it’s just double. Isn’t there a way to make, like, crazy money? You get what I mean, right? It’s not like chances like this come around often.”

Moments where the exchange rate blows up like this are rare. And this isn’t something driven by the market—it’s decided by bureaucrats!

Which means... I know exactly, and with certainty, when the exchange rate will flip. With zero butterfly effect risk.

“Hmm... I’m not sure, but wouldn’t some companies go bankrupt or others suddenly start doing well after the exchange rate changes? Come to think of it, isn’t the whole point of adjusting the exchange rate to control companies and trade balances? So maybe investing in companies is good?”

I nodded.

“Hmm. That’s... about a 70 out of 100.”

Not bad.

“What’s a perfect score?”

“150.”

“...That’s a weird scale.”

She was briefly pleased, then made an odd expression—like she had gotten it right, but somehow still felt like she was being mocked.

Which... she was.

“Do you know what futures are? Not gifts—futures.”

“...Not really. Doesn’t ‘future’ just mean, like, the future?”

“Then how about options?”

“Oh, I think I kind of know that one...”

Maybe it was the sound of the word, but Lee Si-hyun clutched her head and thought hard. Not for long though—because I cut her off.

“Nope. You don’t know. Even in the securities world, barely anyone understands this stuff right now.”

“...Then why did you ask me?”

“I wanted to see your reaction.”

I grinned mischievously and started explaining.

“There’s something called derivatives. Some brilliant adults came up with them because they wanted to put a price tag on everything in the world and trade it.”

“Whoever they are... if you’re calling them ‘brilliant’ like that, I’m guessing they’re total villains to the average person.”

“They probably had good intentions at first. You know, like the guy who invented machine guns.”

The 1980s were the beginning of the rise of derivatives. At this point in time, it’s still nearly °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° impossible for individual investors to access that market... but with my connections, it was doable.

It’s not like I’ve been playing around all this time.

“These derivatives are tied to what’s called an underlying asset. Their prices are based on those. The main ones are futures, options, and swaps.”

Lee Si-hyun’s eyes were already starting to glaze over.

“...Um. So... what’s an underlying asset?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Pretty much anything that can be an asset. Usually people use stocks, but in this case, our underlying asset will be the exchange rate, and the derivative we’ll use is the option. Forget about futures and swaps for now.”

Lately, Lee Si-hyun had regained her academic fire. She nodded enthusiastically, eyes shining—because if she played her cards right, she could earn some money too.

“An option, simply put, is buying and selling a right.”

“A right?”

“Yeah. The right to buy or sell an underlying asset—let’s call it ‘foreign exchange’ from now on—at a specific price, at a specific time. That’s a foreign exchange option.”

Lee Si-hyun closed her eyes and thought for a moment, then nodded. As expected of someone from a top university—she had a good head on her shoulders.

“So... it’s like a prearranged deal. You don’t know what’ll happen in the future, but you guess that the price will be around a certain level, and make a deal based on that. High volatility, and if you guess right, you make a huge profit.”

I smiled approvingly at her explanation.

“Exactly. There’s a bit more to it, but since I haven’t taught you that part yet, that’s pretty much a perfect score.”

“...Wait. Isn’t that basically the same as a future? A deal made in advance. Just going by the word, it sounds nearly identical.”

Hmm. Looks like I picked the right secretary. Or maybe the chief of staff did.

Seeing how quick-witted and responsive my audience was, I clapped my hands in delight.

“Right. An option is a right. A future is, like you said, a prearranged deal. But since it’s a contract, once it hits maturity, you have to fulfill it no matter what. An option, on the other hand—you can skip it if you don’t want to. It’s a right, so you can just choose not to exercise it.”

Let’s say I buy an option to exchange one dollar for 200 yen.

Then, when the maturity date comes, the exchange rate is one dollar to 100 yen. In that case, I’m making a profit.

But let’s say I bought an option to exchange one dollar for 50 yen. That’s a loss. If the market gives you 100 yen for a dollar, why would I accept only 50?

So there are times when you give up on an option.

“W-wait. Then isn’t the person who sold the option at a total loss? They always lose when things go bad, and when they could win, the buyer just cancels the deal... ah.”

As she spoke, realization dawned on Si-hyun, and she lowered her head.

“The option itself... must have a price.”

Correct. That’s what they call a premium.

“Originally... derivatives were invented to reduce risk. By buying and selling that risk itself, you hedge against the volatility of the underlying asset. That was the original purpose of derivatives. So of course options have a price.”

“From the sound of it, it’s kind of like insurance.”

“Exactly. Insurance is actually a kind of option contract.”

Those who don’t want to take risks pay someone else to take it on for them. And the ones who accept that risk get paid to shoulder it.

In other words—

Options, no—derivatives—are, at their core, bundles of risk.

I gently set down the glass of milk I’d been sipping from.

The glass was still almost full. Milk rippled inside, and a few drops splashed as the surface trembled. I pointed at the surface of the milk with my index finger.

“If this is the underlying asset...”

Then I tilted the glass and poured the milk into a small plate beside it. The plate, of course, was shallow, and the milk sloshed violently, splashing as it hit.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

“This is the derivative.”

Measuring the underlying asset is like gauging the depth of a steady river. But dealing with derivatives is like placing bets on the height of waves in a storm-tossed sea.

More dangerous. More unpredictable. More volatile.

But—

You make a hell of a lot more money.

And I know the future.