I Became the Youngest Daughter of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 2: The Aung San Mausoleum Bombing Incident

While I was lost in thought, the number of mourners had thinned out a little. Not because of me—but because my grandfather had stepped outside.

It wasn’t exactly surprising that the chaebol chairman received more attention than his deceased youngest son, who was supposed to be the main figure of the funeral.

My chest burned with urgency. I wanted power too. The kind of power Chairman Yoo Seong-pil held—the power to decide life and death with a mere gesture.

How long would it take for these tiny hands to gain enough influence to sway the entire country?

I lifted my head slightly and quietly observed the people around me. Right now, to them, I was nothing more than an extra in the background.

But one day, my time would come. I'd step into that arena.

I opened my eyes and ears, gathering information. I didn’t know when I’d use it, but at the very least, I needed to earn the qualifications to step onto that stage.

Not long after, I heard a familiar voice—one I’d paid particular attention to earlier.

“Ah, I’m a bit busy today. I’ll just pay my respects to the deceased and be on my way.”

With those words, a middle-aged man approached with confident strides.

Even from behind his glasses, the exhaustion etched into his face was unmistakable. His neatly tailored suit said everything about the kind of man he was.

I recognized him, too.

Kim Hae-ik. Senior Presidential Secretary for Economic Affairs.

Liberal in political stance, unlike the development-focused Sogang School. He was stability-oriented. In just two years, he had slashed Korea’s inflation rate from 28% in 1980 to 7%. An extraordinary public official.

A rare, uncorrupted bureaucrat of his time. Young, brilliant... and doomed.

After a failed attempt to implement financial reform through real-name account systems, his political clout began to weaken. And eventually, he would die in the 1983 Aung San Mausoleum bombing.

...Wait. 1983?

I scrambled through my memories—and froze.

Today was October 7th, 1983.

“...”

My brain kicked into overdrive. My mind had never been this sharp, this clear. Past memories snapped into place like puzzle pieces.

Crisp, photographic recollections lined up neatly inside my head.

The Aung San Mausoleum Bombing. A North Korean operation—an assassination attempt originally aimed at the South Korean President.

Date: October 9th, 1983.

In other words, two days from now, Kim Hae-ik would die in a bombing in Burma.

There were 17 South Korean casualties. Depending on how you look at it, that might seem like a lot—or a little. But the ranks of the dead were filled with high-level officials. The casualty list was a who's who of the political elite.

Seo Seok-joo, the Deputy Prime Minister and head of the Economic Planning Board...

The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of Commerce and Industry, Minister of Energy and Resources, Presidential Chief of Staff, Ambassador to Burma, Head of Overseas Cooperation Committee, Vice Minister of Finance, Vice Minister of Agriculture, Vice Minister of Science and Technology, Chief of Staff to the ruling party leader, the President's personal physician, the Public Affairs Secretary of the Blue House, Presidential security personnel...

And now, standing right in front of me—Kim Hae-ik, Senior Secretary for Economic Affairs.

The photographer who had taken their pictures also died in the blast, but thankfully, a second photo survived. That’s how I remembered their faces so clearly.

...Yeah. I’d definitely seen some of them in old newspapers.

Should I stop it?

The Aung San Bombing isn’t widely remembered these days, but it had a massive impact on South Korea’s capabilities.

Even in the 2020s, losing that many high-level figures in one go would create an administrative crisis. In the 1980s, where higher education was rare? It was catastrophic.

But... how the hell was I supposed to stop it?

I wasn’t worried that saving them would mess up my access to future knowledge. Honestly, once I started making big moves, the future was bound to change anyway. If I could forge a connection with someone at the center of power, I could find ways to use that to my advantage.

But how?

“...Are you okay?”

At that moment, Kim Hae-ik approached me. I steadied my pounding heart and looked up at him.

This was... a chance. Even if I had to push it a little—somehow, I had to tip him off.

Somehow.

If he took my words seriously and survived—it would be an incredible gain. If he brushed them off as nonsense, I wouldn’t lose anything.

He was going to die anyway if I didn’t say something.

Low risk, high reward. I’d be a fool to miss this.

“...Yes, I’m okay. But... isn’t Burma dangerous? The adults said so. They said overseas trips are dangerous. That’s why Daddy died. You should be careful too, mister.”

I said it with the innocent concern of a child mimicking adult conversations, nodding my head like I’d heard it secondhand.

“...”

As expected, Kim Hae-ik wasn’t the kind of man who’d correct a grieving child by saying, “Actually, your dad got drunk and drove himself to death.”

Instead, he gave me a curious look and asked a different question.

“How did you know I was going to Burma?”

“...I saw it in the newspaper and the news. They said the President has an overseas trip scheduled, and the men in suits said it’s gonna be super busy. I figured someone like you—uh, I mean, someone as important as the Senior Secretary—would have to go too. And you looked really tired when you arrived, so... you’re probably flying out today, right?”

“That’s right. You’re six, aren’t you? Pretty sharp for your age. Your grandfather must be proud.”

His expression held a mix of admiration and maybe a little pity as he smiled.

“Thank you.”

I bowed politely. By the time I lifted my head again, the shadow cast over me had already vanished.

Kim Hae-ik rubbed at the dark circles beneath his eyes, preparing to leave the funeral. It wasn’t like this was the death of a chairman—just the third son. He was probably hoping to grab a few hours of sleep before his flight tomorrow.

...That might’ve been too subtle. Could my warning really change anything?

I kept a composed face, but inside, I was burning up.

He was still here not because he wanted to be, but because it would’ve looked rude to show up and leave immediately. His mind was already on the next thing.

What do I do? Do I just tell him outright? What if I say something weird and get blacklisted by Chairman Yoo Seong-pil?

Just as that thought took root, I realized something.

Ah.

That’s right.

I was a child. A little girl from a chaebol family—no one paid attention to what she said.

Whatever I said here, in a few days, it would be chalked up to just another childish episode. “She was probably traumatized from losing both parents”—they’d dismiss it like that.

Tap tap tap.

“...Senior Secretary.”

I hurried over to him with quick, tiny steps.

He paused.

“What is it?”

He looked at me with a puzzled expression but still spoke kindly. That kind of warmth toward a little girl in the 80s? Incredibly rare.

Yeah. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.

I put on a serious expression and spoke in the clearest, most innocent voice I could muster.

“Please be careful of terrorists. Burma’s a socialist country, right?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Ahaha. You mean what you said earlier? Don’t worry. Our intelligence agency isn’t that incompetent.”

Fortunately, he seemed to take my words as nothing more than a child playing pretend, and he didn’t scold me for it.

The others were far more alarmed—my nanny, and even my uncle, who usually didn’t give me the time of day, all rushed in to hush me.

“Oh dear, I-I’m so sorry. She’s just a child...”

“Ha-yeon, this is a conversation for adults. It’s difficult, I know, but why don’t you rest inside for a bit, hmm?”

Despite the scolding, no one got truly angry at me. Probably because I was just a little girl who’d lost both parents.

Which meant... it was the perfect time to exploit it.

When something that binds ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) you wavers, the smart move is to strike like lightning.

“You know, right? I heard the Foreign Minister and the other diplomats really don’t want to go either—”

—Grab.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

“Ha-yeon. Let’s go now.”

My uncle smoothly picked me up and carried me inside.

“Sigh. Ha-yeon, you nearly caused trouble for a very important guest. You mustn’t butt into grown-ups’ business like that, okay? Haa... It’s a good thing he just thought you were being cute—”

I lowered my eyes and let his lecture wash over me, half-listening and biding time.

Good. That should be enough for now.

Now all that was left was to wait.

The bombing was already set in stone. Soon enough, we’d find out who was right.

***

Two days later. October 9.

“Tsk. I didn’t see this coming.”

I sat grumbling in a small room, rubbing at my calves, which were still red and sore.

Yep. I’d been dragged out of the funeral and sent to live at Chairman Yoo Jin-cheol’s house. On top of that, I got ten whacks with a switch.

Well, the first part wasn’t anything strange. Funerals take a long time, and it’s not uncommon for kids to be pulled out early.

I’d nodded off multiple times myself. It’s better for everyone if kids under ten aren’t hanging around for too long at a funeral.

Still, the spanking was a bit much. Maybe I overestimated the level of human rights consciousness in the ‘80s.

But whatever. In the end, I got to live at Grandpa’s house.

I might’ve been a bit blunt with my opinions, but it’s not like I was spouting nonsense.

Even the Foreign Minister and other diplomatic officials had opposed the Burma trip due to terrorist threats. I was just repeating what had already been said.

When Grandpa heard about what I’d said, apparently all he did was frown a little and leave it at that.

“Oh dear, miss. Are you alright?”

My nanny entered with breakfast, wiping at her eyes after seeing the red marks on my legs.

“Ehh, it’s fine. This isn’t a big deal.”

Wait—was that an act, or is she really crying again? She really does cry a lot. I just lost my parents at a young age, that’s all.

...But come to think of it, maybe I am objectively pitiful. If I weren’t mentally resilient, I probably would’ve had a rough time.

I pushed the food around with my spoon and then told them to take it away. I wasn’t in the mood to eat.

Beep.

Sigh. This is what I love about Grandpa’s house. I get to use the precious TV all by myself.

I turned it on, anxiety pressing on my chest, and focused all my attention on the news. Today was the day of the bombing.

Time crawled.

9:00 a.m.

Beeeep—The familiar tone signaling the start of the 9 o’clock news echoed.

[Today, President Jeon Dookwang...]

As always, the news began with a segment tracking the president’s activities. The so-called “Beep-Jeon News” that adults always complain about. Normally, it’s just filler—but not today.

Hmm, the bombing was around 10:30 a.m., so... with the time difference... noon? Oh.

I made a miscalculation. Of course the morning news wouldn’t report the bombing yet!

I was thinking like it was the 21st century again. Back in the 20th century, breaking news wasn’t a common thing. If I didn’t consciously activate it, my perfect memory didn’t really help.

And the time difference was bigger than I expected. If it’s around 12:30 our time, then I’ve still got a while.

Sigh.

Maybe the evening paper will have it. But wait, with the government’s control over the press...

Damn it.

“...”

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Time passed, and the clock moved past noon, then toward 1 p.m.

Bzzzzt.

Just in case, I had the radio playing beside me too, but there was still no sign of any useful news.

Should I just take a nap and check later?

I’d been focused for so long, my body was starting to give out. My stamina was good, but even I had limits at this age.

Time dragged on, and my head spun with thoughts.

Did Kim Hae-ik die? Did the butterfly effect save him somehow? What about the others...?

Knock knock.

Then, there was a knock at the door. The clock read 11:20.

“...The Chairman wishes to see you, miss.”

One of Grandpa’s bodyguards, sunglasses and all, called for me with a solemn voice.

Ah.

It’s here.

My opportunity.