I Became the Youngest Daughter of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 5: Genius

"Let me speak frankly. Would you consider becoming a scholar? If you want, I could even be your advisor. Economics isn’t exactly my main field, but... I could introduce you to someone else.”

...That was a shocking offer.

“Right now? I mean, you’re not even a professor.”

“I could quit my job at the Blue House anytime. And as for becoming a professor... I’m sure someone would take me. I do have a fair bit of academic achievement, after all.”

...Did he like me that much? He was saying things that would make anyone else’s hair stand on end like it was nothing.

“You could take the equivalency exam and enter university early, couldn’t you? By twelve or so, no one would really question it.”

“Hmm... I kind of want to enjoy normal school life too. Honestly, I don’t even have a single friend...”

“Do you think you will?”

This guy had a way of striking where it hurt.

“Well, probably not... But connections are important, right? There aren’t many people like you who don’t care about age.”

“Do you know the name Isaac Newton?”

Kim Hae-ik began slowly, changing the topic.

“Yes.”

“Right. Even someone with only a secondary education has heard Newton’s name. But do you know who the king of England was during Newton’s time? Unless someone’s really into British history, most people don’t—”

“Charles II, James II, William and Mary, Anne, and George. Newton lived between the Stuart and Hanoverian dynasties.”

“...You know your stuff. I see.”

Kim Hae-ik paused, momentarily stunned, then gave a somewhat sheepish shake of his head and continued his proposal.

“No, that’s not the point. Anyway... what I’m saying is, power isn’t as great as you think it is. It’s quite fleeting. In the end, I’d rather see you pursue the life of a scholar. Maybe... maybe you’d carve your ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) name into the ivory tower of knowledge for eternity.”

Hmm.

I got what he meant. And honestly, I agreed with him—to a point.

But... I don’t age.

Kim Hae-ik’s argument was based on the assumption of being a normal human who grows old and dies. I couldn’t say that, of course.

And besides, the example he just used kind of undermined his point. I don’t want to be Newton—I want to be the absolute monarchs Newton served under.

Napoleon and Genghis Khan earned immortal fame too. Power doesn’t always equate to glory, but overwhelming power makes glory a lot easier to come by.

“I don’t want that. Professors can get thrown in jail just for saying the wrong thing nowadays, and you’re telling me to go into academia? I’ve got Grandpa’s inheritance coming my way—I can live like a queen in Korea if I just play my cards right.”

Phew.

At my response, Kim Hae-ik sighed.

“Right. I see. I can’t interfere with your life any further.”

“You’re taking it more gracefully than I expected?”

“What else can I do? I’m just disappointed, that’s all. As a scholar, it pains me. To think a genius like you will be snatched away by the business world...”

He shrugged. Just as it seemed he was about to say more, he glanced at his watch and clicked his tongue.

We’d been talking for over three hours without realizing it.

“Goodness, I must’ve kept you too long. Your grandfather must be worried. I’ll be going now.”

Click.

The door opened, and Kim Hae-ik looked back at me with a slight smile.

“Our next lesson... unless something comes up, let’s do every other Saturday, alright?”

A clear sign of acceptance. I gave a bright smile and bowed politely.

“Yes. Thank you for today, sir.”

***

My first meeting with Kim Hae-ik had ended successfully.

Grandpa seemed curious about what I’d been doing for so long, but I had no obligation to explain, so I just smiled in response.

As I expected, he liked it quite a bit. As a bonus, I even got that line—

“If only you were a boy, Ha-yeon...”

That said it all.

Thanks to the major event of an attempted assassination targeting the president, Yoo Jin-cheol’s funeral was quickly forgotten.

My father had always been on the outskirts of Daehwa Group, and after my mother died, he barely even visited Yoo Seong-pil’s estate.

In his absence, my presence became more and more distinct. The only children in Yoo Seong-pil’s household were his grandchildren—and among them, I was clearly the most exceptional.

Two weeks after Yoo Jin-cheol’s death, on October 21, 1983, I sat at the breakfast table, sipping a glass of water as I read the morning paper.

[17th General Conference on Weights and Measures Held... Redefining the Meter Based on the Speed of Light?]

Hmm. I wish I could have coffee.

Morning paper and coffee—wasn’t that the classic image?

I liked this moment. The morning sunlight breaking through the window, the contrast of the chilly air and the warmth of the blankets.

Yes. A piano would be nice, too. Feeling the rustling paper under my fingertips while enjoying the sound of soft keys—that would be perfect.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

Then, an uninvited guest shattered my peace.

“...”

A face full of irritation. She was young, but would probably grow into a rather pretty woman someday.

Yoo Seon-a...

One of Yoo Seong-pil’s granddaughters. The only daughter of the eldest son, Yoo Jin-seok. I’d heard that before I was born, she’d been the family’s baby, thoroughly pampered.

We’re four years apart, so she must be ten now.

Honestly, before Yoo Jin-cheol died, I’d barely existed in this household. Her past ten years must’ve been smooth sailing, with nothing to envy.

“Ugh! Are you ignoring me? I asked what you’re doing!”

Without a word, I pointed my finger at the newspaper.

“Reading. Want to join?”

For reference, newspapers at this time were mixed with Chinese characters. Tough reading for a ten-year-old.

“...”

Just as I thought, she tried reading for a moment, failed, and settled into sulky silence. Then, she jabbed her finger at me and shouted again.

“You—you’re just pretending to read it, aren’t you?!”

A reaction I was getting more and more used to lately. I’d been dealing with adults so often, I sometimes forgot—kids were just like this.

I really didn’t get what I did wrong.

“...Think whatever you want. But why do you keep clinging to me?”

I was a little annoyed and gently pushed her away. Yoo Seon-a mumbled, her lips twitching.

“...Grandpa only likes you.”

...So that’s what this was about. Kids, honestly.

“Then do something he’ll like. I’m trying my best, too.”

I replied coolly. Yoo Seon-a’s eyes widened in surprise. My attitude must’ve been a real shock to her.

“You’re not reading it for fun?”

Fun, huh. Well, it’s not totally boring—but I know way more fun things. Games, the internet, that kind of stuff.

I do this because I have to. I know I need to endure for now if I want to get what I want later.

I kept those thoughts to myself and just shrugged. My soft black hair brushed down across my shoulder.

“Didn’t you say I was faking it earlier?”

“Th-that was...”

Apparently, the concept of “patience” didn’t exist in Yoo Seon-a’s world. Then again, when would she have needed it?

“My dad didn’t really like me. But he liked movies, so I thought maybe if I learned a lot about them, he’d notice me. So I studied. Forced myself to learn.”

“...”

She didn’t say anything more. Guess she wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe Yoo Seong-pil had done a decent job teaching her basic manners. ...Then why was my dad such a disaster?

While I was grumbling internally, she mumbled something under her breath.

“I’m older than you. You should call me ‘unni.’”

“No.”

Like hell I will.

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on ƒreewebɳovel.com.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

***

The eldest son of Daehwa Group’s Chairman Yoo Seong-pil, Yoo Jin-seok, had to listen to his daughter’s whining after breakfast.

“Dad! I want to study too. Buy me some books. A-A Chinese character book, too...”

“...Study? What do you mean, study. I mean, not that I mind, but still...”

Unlike in the past, these days even girls go to college. Yoo Jin-seok prided himself on being relatively progressive, not like the old men of his father’s generation. He was open to the idea of educating his daughter.

Up until now, the problem was that she had refused.

There’s no way Seon-a suddenly got the urge to study...

“Is this because of Ha-yeon?”

Seon-a flinched and gave a small nod. Kids around this age often think they can fool their parents, but Seon-a was unusually honest for her age. Yoo Jin-seok liked that about her.

Maybe he was just biased—she was his precious youngest daughter, born when he was nearly thirty. Of course he had no reason not to love her.

Then again, she never really had a reason to lie, either.

Even when she made mistakes, she was never scolded harshly. That’s probably why she grew up naturally honest.

Although she did tend to express that honesty in blunt, often rude ways.

“Listen. Ha-yeon is... a little unusual, isn’t she? You don’t have to try and copy her. Kids are supposed to be like kids.”

Yoo Jin-seok frowned slightly as he thought of his niece.

The daughter of his younger brother, born after a shotgun marriage with a famous actress.

He’d seen her a few times over the years, but never paid her much attention. She was just a little kid, after all. More importantly, he’d thought stopping Jin-cheol from going completely off the rails was far more urgent.

But then... after not seeing her for a while, something had changed. Yoo Ha-yeon now acted like a little old woman trapped in a child’s body.

— “You know, right? Even the intelligence guys and the Foreign Minister really didn’t want to go.”

At Jin-cheol’s funeral, he’d been so taken aback. At first, he dismissed it as just childish nonsense, but the more he thought about it, the more unsettling it became.

Look at Seon-a, for instance. Kids don’t know anything about government ministries. They don’t even know what the Ministry of Foreign Affairs does.

Actually, how many adults in this country even understand how the government works? Not the philosophy of government—just its structure.

Even decades after liberation, plenty of people still called the president “His Majesty.” Only the college-educated or the so-called intelligentsia knew better. In that light, what Ha-yeon said wasn’t something a child could’ve known.

Yoo Jin-seok shook his head.

No, that’s going too far.

She probably just read that stuff in the newspaper and repeated it. Kids are always confident in the little they do know, after all.

“But Grandpa only likes Yoo Ha-yeon now... I wanna grow up fast too.”

Seon-a pouted as she said that. Yoo Jin-seok gave her a bittersweet smile.

Father, seriously. You’re way too obvious about how much you favor that granddaughter who looks just like you...

Over the past few days, Ha-yeon had occasionally chimed in during meals whenever Yoo Seong-pil brought up serious topics.

Normally, if anyone spouted nonsense at that table, they’d be silenced immediately—but she always said things that somehow made sense. And more importantly, because of his growing favoritism, Chairman Yoo’s affection was now fully concentrated on her.

Still... The timing of the bombing had just been a coincidence, hadn’t it? Father probably just thought there was something uncanny about Ha-yeon. Maybe even believed she had some kind of sixth sense or genius spark. Enough to introduce her to that infamous economic secretary.

“It’s fine. Give it a little time. Grandpa will figure it out soon enough. There’s no such thing as a real prodigy.”

After all, he had once been called a prodigy too. He knew just how miserable that position really was.

That title—“child genius”—came not from raw talent, but from a mix of abusive education and desperate circumstances. It had nothing to do with actual giftedness.

There was no doubt in his mind. Jin-cheol had ruined that child. Always drinking, always out of the house—of course she turned out strange.

“Really? Ha-yeon said... if you want adults to care about you, you have to study hard.”

Yoo Jin-seok gently patted his daughter’s head and smiled wryly.

Of course. That explains it. A six-year-old with thoughts like that? No way. She must be struggling so hard, just trying to get adults to notice her.

With that, he pushed aside the rumors that had been spinning in the back of his mind.

That Yoo Ha-yeon was already reading thick university-level textbooks.

That she’d held a three-hour-long one-on-one discussion with Kim Hae-ik, the Chief Secretary for Economic Affairs.

Utter nonsense.

Where would a six-year-old even learn the kind of English used in academic texts? And the idea that Kim Hae-ik spent hours speaking with her? The man was far too busy to waste three hours on a child.

To believe she’d read economics in English, digested it on her own, and then discussed it intelligently with Kim Hae-ik?

Absurd.

She’s just a six-year-old.

Unless—one in ten thousand, or one in a million—

If, somehow, that really was possible, then it would mean she was a true genius.

One of those legendary prodigies who show up once a century, mocking all logic and reshaping the world in their wake... only to vanish again.