The Villainess is the Villainess [LitRPG]

Book 2: Chapter 34 - I have a Dream

We must build national unity, build all revolutionary forces, into one powerful wave to sweep away our main enemy, political imperialism and economic imperialism.

- Sukarno.

"Thank you for joining us this evening, Presidential Candidate Myeong." The host, Ms. Hyemi Han, offered a practiced smile, the studio lights glimmering off her pearl-white blazer. Her sleek chestnut bob framed a poised, confident face; subtle contouring and wine-red lips completed the picture of modern broadcast polish.

"It's a pleasure to be here," Myeong Mirae replied, her voice warm, her radiance effortless. She wore a midnight-blue hanbok-inspired jacket tailored to accentuate her slim waist, its silver embroidery catching the light each time she moved. A single ivory hairpin held back her long raven waves, giving her an air of composed strength softened by an almost disarming grace.

Hyemi leaned forward, genuine curiosity brightening her dark eyes. "Candidate Myeong, your late entry has electrified the nation. What compelled you to step onto the presidential stage?"

Mirae's smile gentled; thoughtful bronze flecks danced in her gaze. "South Korea is at a crossroads. We can choose a future of unity, transparency, and reform—or we can stagnate. We can invest in the young and the future, or keep to the old ways. My years steering the Myeong Group showed me exactly where the system breaks down. I felt bound, morally bound, to act."

The path to power lay in her being a traitor to her class. The billionaire class… well, in her case, the multi-billionaire class. The country needed a future, and it was being eaten up by the obscenely rich. She would offer up those monsters as sacrificial beasts on the altar of egalitarianism. Mirae would cut herself, and deeply, if it meant that she was the only one left standing.

Hyemi nodded appreciatively. "Recent polls show you breaking records for favorability, and turnout forecasts are sky-high, especially among the under-thirties. How do you read that enthusiasm?"

"People recognize authenticity," Mirae answered, posture straight but unpretentious. "They want a leader who tells them the truth and shares the fruits of prosperity—their prosperity."

"And you insist that taxing the ultra-wealthy is the path to that future?" Hyemi's finely penciled brows rose.

Mirae inhaled. "I have been poor, and I have been rich—"

Hyemi couldn't resist: "Your recent memoir shocked us all. No 'silver spoon' after all!"

The corner of Mirae's mouth tightened, but the smile held. The previous Mirae would have never made such a move; instead, she preferred to hide the truth about her humble origins. This Mirae, on the other hand, was willing to use anything. Even the highly edited, romanticized version of the truth.

"Indeed. My journey lets me ask a simple question: who bleeds more? Twenty percent from someone scraping by, or eighty percent from someone obscenely wealthy?" she asked of the presenter.

Hyemi attempted a light laugh. "Some argue such rates would smother entrepreneurship. Still, others say that the very rich would just simply leave. Your response?"

"A society without a thriving middle and working class has no future. I will build a world… a Korea where paths to prosperity exist without devouring the weak. The old nobility in the West called it noblesse oblige. For those with power and wealth to give back and protect. Wealth does not easily pack up its bags and leave. There is something about one's home that is sacred. And, these taxes do not target those who made their wealth from their labor, but rather those who have assets. Those assets are here in Korea, and we can tax the elite."

A frown crossed the presenter's face. "But critics call that hypocritical—you are the elite, after all. And others fear handing vast sums to the government. A government that can be best described as less-than-efficient."

Mirae crossed her long legs, lacquer-black heels flashing, and let out a melodic laugh behind perfectly manicured fingers. "Should the people choose me, I will be the government. And doubt my fiscal skill? That's like doubting a surgeon with the scalpel. My companies succeed because I run them with discipline—I will govern the same way."

"That is quite the powerful claim to make."

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"A claim grounded and based upon my past record."

Hyemi's curiosity sharpened. "Still, why risk everything? Why go this far?"

"A duty to the country that forged me," Mirae said simply, sincerity like steel beneath velvet.

The host shifted, new territory ahead. "To this day, you remain acting president of the Myeong Group—a chaebol entwined in every aspect of our daily lives. How will you address conflict-of-interest fears?"

"Transparency, Ms. Han. On election night, I resign from every executive post and place my holdings in a blind trust. The people will see exactly where every won goes."

A final, gentler probe: "You also face scrutiny over your mother's defection from the North. Some doubt your allegiances…"

Mirae met the question head-on, chin lifted. "I am the daughter of a woman who sought freedom and the proof that this peninsula can transcend its divisions. My life is a declaration that gender, birth, and background do not limit one's ability to serve their country."

Hyemi allowed herself a genuine smile. "Beautifully put, Candidate Myeong. Thank you for your candor—and speaking of bold moves, you've hinted at reopening talks with Pyongyang…"

The red studio light blinked, new questions loading. Mirae's poised silhouette against the glowing backdrop suggested a woman ready and hungry for power.

***

The rival factions struck both openly and in secret. Yet Mirae had prepared for this long ago. Backup suppliers were secured, new routes mapped, and unexplored markets primed. The assault showed up on her dashboards like an annoying bookkeeping error—nothing more.

The board complained. They were elderly directors who had no appetite for risk, blind to the fact that her single, decisive play would rewrite the entire rulebook. The share price moved a fraction, but that was the extent of it. And what did heavy taxes matter if you were the last megacorp standing in the nation, then the region, and eventually the world?

She chuckled under her breath.

Rule here was almost too easy. No right to it was granted by birth, but with all the wealth and power she had, she might as well wear a crown. Her predecessor had squandered that privilege the moment she convinced herself she had already won at the game of life; Mirae knew there was always a higher summit to claim.

And the luxuries, thousands of them, were just wonderful. Even just going to the toilet was a pleasure! She grinned, pleased she had tricked her other self into going to Aranthia, that monster-ridden land of treacherous magic and zealot priests. No, thank you.

"Miss Myeong, we've identified the security-breach culprit," reported a staffer in a black cap. The badge on his chest read Kim Min-jun.

"Thank you, Mr. Kim," she said smoothly.

Several rivals had even tried open warfare, forcing her to stay on the defensive—for now. She could not yet afford public scrutiny. Of course, once she won the election, she had people in place to arrest all of those who conspired against her.

I will designate them as terrorist groups.

It would be like a public execution in the town square. A cathartic moment, the people would have their pound of flesh.

Mirae's smile sharpened. "You have footage and full details? You have him in custody at one of our sites?"

Kim consulted his tablet. "Yes, ma'am."

Sometimes, a well-handled shield could cut deeper than any sword.

"Excellent. I'll deal with him myself—after my fan-club address."

"As you wish," he replied, bowing formally.

Heels clicking, she strode down the corridor. Two suited guards swung the next set of doors wide open.

The great hall was packed wall-to-wall with men, thousands upon thousands of them, faces upturned to the spotlight like worshippers at a midnight mass. Lights bathed the area, burnishing every eager gaze with a molten halo. When Mirae stepped onto the dais in a pearl-white power suit, the entire sea of bodies surged forward, as though gravity itself had shifted around her.

She shot a clenched fist overhead. "Unification!"

The single word detonated. A roar answered—deeper than thunder, hot enough to vibrate the steel roof trusses. These were the true diehards of Mirae's Fan-Club, men who had memorized every verse she ever sang and treated her comeback concert–turned-campaign announcement as a holy revelation. The second coming. They had mourned when she walked off the stage years ago; now they hailed her as a goddess returned.

Useful, devoted, and already trained. Conscription had taught every one of them how to march, to shoot, to die on command. Where others saw a fan base made up of disenfranchised youth, Mirae saw a loyal legion of fighting age.

And legions needed wars.

While ministers and armchair pundits preached restraint, she envisioned shock troops outfitted with bleeding-edge kill drones and encrypted comms storming the 38th parallel before the global powers even finished drafting their condemnations. Fire would rain from above as 6th-generation fighters flew on the wings of the storm from secret mountain bases. Let the old guard wring their hands; she would lop off the snake's head and hold it aloft as proof that timidity had died with the previous century.

Blood would flow—of course it would. Peace had never been bought with anything else, and she preferred the invoice paid in someone else's red coin.

Mirae paused at the clear-crystal podium, letting the echo of their chant coil around her like a living serpent. It filled a dark part of her heart with satisfaction. Somewhere high above, a camera rig hummed, recording this historic moment for posterity.

Election night was tomorrow, and everyone had seen the writing on the wall. It was time to prepare the nation for its marching orders.

She drew a breath that tasted of ozone and electric promise, allowed a slow, dangerous smile to blossom, and leaned into the microphone.

"My brothers," she began, her voice a velvet blade, "The time is almost here! Are you ready to make history?"