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Chapter 9 – The Architect of Tomorrow

  《Moneytory: The Time Mechanic》

  The news was on.

  Too loud.

  Too familiar.

  


  “Labor strikes continue across Seoul—”

  “Young voters divided on economic reform—”

  “Debates escalate between conservative and progressive factions—”

  Moneytory muted the screen.

  Not because he didn’t care.

  Because he cared too much.

  And now, after all his travels—across time, across memories, across himself—

  he was finally ready.

  


  “This time, I’m not going to fix myself.

  I’m going to fix the system.”

  He didn’t start a revolution.

  He started a meeting.

  A roundtable of ten.

  HR managers.

  Union reps.

  Policy researchers.

  And two people who absolutely hated being in the same room.

  Perfect.

  


  “What’s this, therapy?” someone sneered.

  


  “No,” Moneytory said.

  “This is architecture.”

  He spread out a blueprint.

  A social framework, built from the lessons of broken systems.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  


      


  •   Psychological safety protocols

      


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  •   Emotional equity metrics

      


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  •   Incentive balance between creative labor and efficiency

      


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  They stared.

  And then—one by one—they talked.

  Argued.

  Laughed.

  Refused.

  But they showed up again the next week.

  Because for once, someone was treating the system like something humans lived in, not something humans fed.

  He visited universities.

  Taught a new seminar:

  


  “Emotional Economics: Building Resilient Futures.”

  No slides.

  Just whiteboard.

  Questions like:

  


      


  •   “What does it cost to feel safe?”

      


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  •   “Can a workplace survive without trust?”

      


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  •   “Is freedom just the absence of fear, or the presence of voice?”

      


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  Students didn’t take notes.

  They argued.

  And that was exactly what he wanted.

  It came.

  A call from the CEO.

  


  “What are you doing?”

  


  “Reprogramming the ecosystem.”

  


  “You're not in charge.”

  


  “Then put someone else in charge.

  But I’m not stopping.”

  A letter from the government.

  


  “You are requested to explain your unauthorized interventions in public forums.”

  He wrote back:

  


  “Happy to.

  Also happy to explain why no one in your position has done it yet.”

  His ideas were clunky.

  Unfinished.

  Flawed.

  And that’s why they worked.

  People reshaped them.

  Criticized them.

  Translated them into movements, votes, prototype policies.

  A high school in Daegu adopted his “Rest Day Rotation” model.

  A factory in Busan cut overtime by 30% without reducing wages.

  A city council in Incheon used his empathy-balance scoring to redesign citizen surveys.

  Moneytory stood at the edge of a rooftop one night.

  Haejin beside him.

  The city below—flawed, bright, alive.

  


  “It’s not the future I dreamed of,” he said.

  


  “No,” she replied.

  “It’s the one you built.”

  He exhaled.

  


  “One slow, messy, deeply human blueprint at a time.”

  To be continued…

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