The first hearing date for the first instance was set.
At the Seoul Family Court, legal representatives from both sides took their positions on either side of the courtroom. A lawyer with a shrewd face, who had been setting down his bags on the defendant’s side, approached the plaintiff’s table. When the man gave a low, deliberate cough beside Seheon, who was reviewing documents, Seheon turned around. Soon after, the two went to a corner to speak quietly.
Watching this, Yunshin reflexively checked behind him. His sister, who had a scarf wrapped around her neck, felt his gaze and raised the corners of her lips awkwardly. Now that she was actually standing in the courtroom, she seemed nervous, just as he’d expected. Whether she simply couldn’t manage a clean smile, she soon let out a small sigh, proving as much. As if infected by her, Yunshin also let out a deep breath and stepped forward to stand before her.
“Nervous?”
His sister glanced toward the nearly empty gallery seats and nodded cautiously.
“It’s a closed trial, but strangely, I feel like I’m standing naked in front of people.”
“Don’t worry too much. I explained on the way here, but the first hearing isn’t really for anything special. It’s just a procedure to confirm the submitted documents. It’s the process of submitting to the court the opinions, responses, and various applications exchanged so far.”
“I heard the other side requested as witnesses the people who used to do housework. They’re all former employees who have since quit. When they worked for us, the couple’s relationship wasn’t bad—so what kind of surprise testimony are they trying to give? Could it be unfavorable to me?”
He wanted to say it really wasn’t the case and reassure her, but he needed to convey the facts accurately.
“The seniors think the other side’s lawyers have coached them to some extent. I think most of them will probably give testimony favorable to our brother-in-law. We’ve done our best to prepare rebuttals, but in severe cases, they might even commit perjury.”
“They might say things that never happened?”
“Yes, in the worst-case scenario. If that happens, things might get complicated. The trial will likely drag on longer.”
“Would they really go that far? They’d commit perjury in court just because they were promised something?”
“It’ll probably be money. But if they bought people off with money, that’ll ultimately become their weakness.”
At his confident reply, she relaxed ever so slightly and slumped her shoulders. Yunshin squeezed her bony shoulder as if to tell her not to be too distressed.
“Even if something different from what you know comes out, don’t panic. We have a mountain of physical evidence. Even if they try to take detours, if we stick to the royal road, we can win.”
Mihui, who had once reviewed all the evidence she had secured, had exclaimed that it was her first time seeing a client so thoroughly prepared for litigation. Videos, photos, recordings—even medical records, it was a gold mine. It seemed possible because she had learned the work of her father, a legal professional, from a young age.
Because the evidence was so damning, it was all too obvious that the other side would argue something malicious—that she had planned the divorce and intentionally induced the breakdown of the marriage. A rebuttal based on her psychological counseling records with a doctor had also been prepared for that argument.
“Everything will work out.”
Yunshin took her hand, adopting a tone even gentler than usual to ease her tension. Then he returned to his position.
At some point, it seemed the gallery had been restricted, for a court officer entered. At the same time, Seheon appeared to have finished his conversation with the opposing lawyer and returned to where Yunshin was. One curious thing was that the shrewd lawyer’s face had been very flushed, alternating between red and blue.
Standing side by side on the plaintiff’s side, they leaned their heads together and spoke in whispers.
“Brother-in-law didn’t show up even once for the mediation dates; looks like he won’t come to the hearing either.”
“People who find it hard to keep their seats in court usually have something weighing on their conscience behind them. It’s a good sign.”
“That’s a relief. But what did the other lawyer say? He looks very upset.”
“He suggested we reduce the alimony amount. Threatened that if we didn’t, your sister would have a hard time after the lawsuit.”
Yunshin glanced back at his sister, his thoughts growing heavy, then leaned back toward Seheon. This fight had begun with the knowledge that the lawsuit wasn’t the end—what came after was the real war she would have to wage. And yet, since she had said she could endure it, all he could do was help.
“Suddenly, here? Even that bailiff could probably guess your sister will suffer after the lawsuit. What kind of scheme is this, coming out of nowhere?”
“Who knows. A bluff? It probably doesn’t mean much, but I think he was trying something. We’ll know for sure once the hearing starts.”
“So what did you say to him, Senior?”
“I told him to go fuck himself.”
It was hardly a situation for laughter, but Seheon had replied with such brazen casualness, his face so expressionless that not a drop of blood would have spilled if you cut it, that Yunshin burst out laughing before he knew it. Thanks to that, the tense atmosphere softened ever so slightly. Then, belatedly swept up in worry about whether this was okay, he hurriedly continued.
“Is that okay? He’s a senior far above us.”
“You have to rile them up from the start so they make mistakes. And inside the courtroom, everyone is equal. Except the judge.”
“Oh, so we’re equal here too, right? Isn’t that right, Kang