In the center of the spacious main conference room—large enough to easily accommodate dozens of people—sat an oval wooden table capable of seating over twenty. Facing the projector, each seat was neatly lined with executive chairs made from special cushioning material, while microphones and tablet PCs rested atop the table.
Behind the executives’ seats, two rows of leather office chairs had been arranged side by side for associate attorneys and staff. The luxurious amplifiers and electronic devices beside them also boasted the room’s grandeur. It seemed this was where important meetings that partners were required to attend were held. They had apparently filled the space with expensive items befitting their status.
Had it ended at merely that, Yunsin, who had grown up wanting for nothing, would not have felt so intimidated.
His gaze, laden with complicated emotions, reached the abstract art paintings hanging on the wall behind the head seat.
‘Where have I seen those paintings before? I’m sure I read an article a few years ago about them being sold at auction.’
Those works by famous artists, the kind one encountered only in overseas auction news, were worth at least hundreds of billions of won. It was neither the representative’s office, nor a partner’s chamber, nor a reception room for guests—just a conference room used by staff—yet several expensive paintings hung here, casting a deliberately intimidating atmosphere. The unidentifiable forms within those paintings seemed to move, as if pressing down on him.
He felt that he stood at a very important turning point, making him more nervous than when he stood in court. To pull himself together, Yunsin pressed his lips firmly shut and moved the trackpad. Then, on the front screen, the simple presentation slides he had prepared in advance appeared. Evidence related to the case and the issues at hand were arranged for easy readability.
It was still before official working hours. Yunsin’s face was filled with exhaustion as he entered alone to prepare for the test. Part of it was the considerable psychological pressure this unnecessarily extravagant place exerted, but the greater reason was that he had stayed up for nearly two days without a wink of sleep.
When he rose slightly, his vision spun. It wasn’t merely lack of sleep; he had spent every available moment frantically reading and organizing content, so fatigue had accumulated. He had just straightened his back when the door opened from outside. The person entering was Secretary Tak.
He brought the documents Yunsin had requested and placed one copy at each seat where the seniors would sit. Then, he set a steaming cup of coffee before Yunsin.
“Please have this. It’s brewed very strong, so it’ll wake you right up.”
Having washed up, Yunsin nodded with an expression of sincere gratitude and accepted it.
“I won’t forget this kindness. Please tell the office manager as well that I’m grateful you came in early to help.”
“What kindness? I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.”
“But I’m not officially an attorney at this firm yet. Strictly speaking, there’s no reason you have to help me, at least for now.”
Secretary Tak answered with a gentle smile.
“But did you read all of that material? It was over ten thousand sheets of A4 paper. I know because I prepared the papers myself.”
“Honestly, the volume was so vast that I couldn’t read it all. I divided it by category and selectively speed-read only the essential parts. So I’m a bit worried.”
As he answered and took a sip of coffee, Secretary Tak carefully observed Yunsin’s attire. The white dress shirt with both sleeves rolled up and the necktie hanging clumsily around his neck were both slightly disheveled in equal measure. That might have been fine, but the problem lay elsewhere.
“You probably didn’t sleep a wink anyway. Did you just barely wash up in the shower room, Attorney?”
“Yes. Is there a problem? There are people who stay up all night on the floors above and below sometimes.”
“That’s not it. From now on, keep a change of clothes here. He can’t stand seeing someone wear the same thing twice.”
“Is that Chief Kang’s order?”
Tak shrugged his shoulders as if there were no doubt about it, causing Yunsin some confusion. Because the Seheon he had known until now seemed like someone who wouldn’t care in the slightest about an associate attorney’s attire.
“Does he care about associates’ clothes too?”
“Not particularly, but his memory is exceptional. If he sees someone two days in a row and they’re wearing the exact same outfit, it makes him feel like he’s doing yesterday’s work all over again, given the enormous amount of work he handles himself. Like the day is repeating? It reminded me of another junior who was pointed out for it before.”
“A simple remark?”
“‘Get out of my sight,’ he said. And he kept getting kicked out. To the corporate affairs team.”
Perhaps because Yunsin’s expression looked quite grim, Secretary Tak added as if making an excuse.
“Ah, fortunately, it wasn’t a firing.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
It seemed like a quirk common enough among busy and difficult people like Seheon. Yunsin untied his necktie, crumpled it into his pocket, and straightened his shirt as much as possible. Thankfully, Secretary Tak then handed over his own necktie. As Yunsin draped it around his neck and tied the knot, the cold face of Seheon untying his own tie surfaced in his mind, making him tighten it more for no reason.
Seeing this, Secretary Tak tilted his head slightly and cast a curious gaze.
“Are you perhaps imagining strangling Chief Kang……”
“No, not at all.”
“Strange. All the other juniors do it. I do it sometimes too. He piles on an enormous amount of work.”
Unable to admit it was true now, Yunsin awkwardly changed the subject.
“By the way, what’s your relationship? From what I see, Attorney Kang treats you quite comfortably.”
“Ah, me? I’m his junior from middle school. Attorney Song and Attorney Kang are both my seniors.”
“Oh, really? It’s my first time hearing that you had such a connection.”
“There was an age gap, so the three of us never attended school together. In the past, Chief Song provided financial support to some protected children among our alma mater’s juniors. Attorney Kang and I were thankfully able to live with his help, so we knew each other through the foundation since then. We weren’t close, though.”
Having heard that much, Yunsin’s eyes went wide.
Protected children.
In other words, orphans under eighteen.
He had heard quite a few rumors here and there about Seheon’s family background. That both his parents were doctors with Médecins Sans Frontières, that they were professors at prestigious overseas universities—those were the mainstream ones. When he chose to become an attorney instead of a prosecutor, there had even been talk that he was the illegitimate child of a famous domestic law firm’s chairman. He knew Seheon had never acknowledged any of them.
“Attorney Kang’s parents…… are no longer around?”
Perhaps because Yunsin’s expression was very complicated, Secretary Tak added with a troubled look.
“Ah, you didn’t know? Since you’re from a chaebol family by marriage, and Attorney Song personally brought you to place you with Attorney Kang, I thought you’d be well-versed in this. Did I make a slip of the tongue?”
“Is that something Attorney Kang hides?”
“Not exactly. But he doesn’t enjoy talking about it.”
“Then I suppose you did make a mistake. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”
Tak smiled as if grateful. Even so, an awkward energy regarding the unnecessary exposure of his superior’s personal story reached Yunsin, making it impossible for him to dwell on the question. He changed the topic as naturally as possible.
“Um, this test. Does everyone go through it?”
Secretary Tak replied with evident delight.
“This much is the basics of basics. You could call it tradition. When associate attorneys first join, the teams usually hold mock trials to humiliate them. To crush their spirits. But Attorney Kang finds such things bothersome, so he doesn’t hold trials. Even if he does, he tends to leave them to the senior attorneys below him. Oh right, today he’s attending for some reason. I wonder why?”
“I suppose he’s bored out of his mind.”
The two conversing turned simultaneously toward the source of the voice. Just as they thought they heard footsteps from afar, Seheon stood leaning obliquely in the doorway. Today as always, the three-piece suit he wore so neatly suited him perfectly. Even the long shadow cast at his feet was immaculate.
Behind him stood several senior attorneys from the same team whom Yunsin had passed in the building a few times. At a rough count, it looked like only about ten or so of the team’s attorneys were attending. Their ages, ranging from thirties to fifties, and their specific areas of expertise varied.
Thanks to the presence of those who had come to evaluate him, his mind snapped awake. The razor-sharp neatness of their attire and the cold composure evident in their expressions made every muscle in Yunsin’s body tense.
He belatedly regretted why he had insisted on asking Seheon to come even though the latter commanded even those seasoned veterans as if they were in the palm of his hand, but it was already too late.
“Secretary Tak. Um, if you could stay in the conference room during the briefing for a moment……”
When Yunsin instinctively sensing crisis reached out, Tak cruelly exchanged a glance as if saying, ‘Keep your promise,’ and quickly slipped out of the conference room. Having no choice but to turn his gaze to Seheon, he found the latter looking at him with an expression of utter dissatisfaction, making his throat go dry.
Cough. Just as Yunsin let out a dry cough and was about to say something, Seheon spoke first.
“Fourth-year. Is begging just anyone to stay by your side your hobby?”
“Pardon? That can’t be right.”
“I saw it with my own eyes just now, and you say ‘that can’t be right’?”
“Ah, that was just because I felt like I didn’t have a single ally here. There’s no special reason. Of course, I don’t mean you’re the enemy, Chief.”
“Are you sure?”
“I really don’t.”
“Enough. Don’t obstruct the base path and get out.”
Before Yunsin could even step aside, Seheon passed him irritably and took the head seat. Then, the other attorneys who had been waiting in a deferential attitude for him to move entered and filled their seats one by one.
As they looked at the papers on the table, Yunsin drew a low breath and muttered earnestly to steady his fluttering heart.
You prepared your best and worked hard. Just don’t make mistakes.
Soon, after a deep “Hoo,” he bowed politely before his senior colleagues.
“This is my first greeting. I’m Do Yunsin.”
There was no reply. Most of the seniors were reading the documents Yunsin had distributed. A few seemed to be offering fairly generous evaluations, noting that the key points were well-organized in a short time. Only Seheon, sitting askew beneath the abstract art, fixed his gaze clearly on Yunsin standing before him.
When Yunsin showed signs of continuing with further pleasantries, Seheon checked his wristwatch once and cut him off immediately.
“Skip the trivialities and just start. Everyone here is busy.”
Yunsin’s lips moved as he bowed his head.
He then picked up the laser pointer and pointed at the screen.
“Then, I shall begin. This is a construction fee claim lawsuit. The plaintiff, who failed to receive construction payment, filed a complaint against the defendant. Since there remains no physical contract documenting the agreement with the defendant, who is also the building owner, a voice recording of the oral contract was submitted. Construction was actually carried out, and the payment deadline has passed without the fee being paid. All litigation requirements are satisfied.”
One senior attorney scanning the documents turned on his microphone and asked a question.
“The document organization is neat. What about the payment deadline? Typically, the balance of construction fees is paid upon building delivery. In this case, the defendant seems to be claiming the building hasn’t been fully expanded. So they’re saying the deadline hasn’t arrived yet and there’s no need to pay? How will you resolve this?”
“Construction has been halted for over six months now. In the process, there are circumstances suggesting the defendant, the building owner, prevented the finish work from being done.”
Yunsin advanced the screen and presented evidence. It contained photographs of circumstances where the defendant had erected fences around the site and damaged construction materials. The defendant claimed these were measures to control wild animals in the vicinity.
Yunsin pointed at the photos with the laser pointer and added.
“Furthermore, there is precedent that when circumstances change, such as when construction is halted, the agreed deadline changes accordingly, and the payment due date is considered to have arrived. Please see the distributed papers.”
Just as Yunsin’s thin hand reached to lift a paper to check the page number, Seheon rolled the pen he had been twiddling between his fingers clattering toward Yunsin, blocking the action. He seemed to find something very displeasing.
“Wait.”
“Attorney?”
“So, you think the money has to be paid?”
“As far as I’ve confirmed in this case, a secured claim exists, and the payment deadline has arrived. In principle, payment must be made.”
Upon hearing the answer, he turned his head with a rather ambiguous expression, as if something seemed suspicious, then pointed squarely at one senior attorney across from him.
“Now, a question here. Are we the plaintiff or the defendant? A very easy question.”
A senior attorney who hastily skimmed the documents replied confidently.
“The plaintiff.”
Turning his gaze back to the front as if to say, ‘Did you hear that?’ Seheon asked Yunsin this time.
“He says plaintiff. Why? Because the presenter—you—said this was a case where the payment was not received, rather than a case where payment was not made.”
“.......”
“Which firm do you work for?”
“Doguk.”
“Our firm?”
Yunsin’s lips moved as he hesitated before finally forcing out the words.
“...We represent the defendant.”
“Are you perhaps a prosecutor? A paladin of justice. It suits Attorney Do Yunsin perfectly. Or perhaps you are a judge. Ah, if not those, maybe you’re simply an audience member who keeps to the principles very well. Principles, how nice.”
As he continued speaking, it was as if cold water were being poured, and the air in the room grew chill. At the clearly mocking tone, the other attorneys’ eyes naturally focused on Seheon and Yunsin. However, Yunsin was not entirely without grounds for rebuttal, and he answered immediately.
“But what you demanded of me was not argumentation, but a summary and organization of the case. That is why I tried to maintain an objective perspective without being caught up in either side’s logic. I only need to find grounds to rebut the plaintiff’s logic that I laid out. This process is also necessary.”
“It’s very necessary. But do you truly think the defendant is our side? I’m asking about your mindset. Anyone can see that someone cheated out of tens of billions of won is the aggrieved party. The summary I saw in your room yesterday was full of that feeling. Was I mistaken? I haven’t read this paper yet, but it seems like the same thing.”
For a moment, Yunsin lost his words and pressed his lips tightly shut. His words were the correct answer without a single error. Until now, every case Yunsin had handled had involved representing people like this plaintiff. Naturally, he couldn’t say he hadn’t viewed the materials through such a victim’s perspective while organizing them.
As his opponent fell silent, Seheon, who had been facing forward, turned his body slightly to the side and tilted his head. He scanned the senior attorneys around him, then pointed his chin at the first two his eyes landed on and asked a question.
“Now, you two. Let me ask a question. You seem to have roughly understood the facts from the documents. In this case, what counterstrategy can the defendant employ? Since it isn’t a difficult matter, let’s go with the orthodox approach.”
The pointed-out seniors answered one by one.
“The contract can be rescinded. You prove that even though construction was carried out, critical defects occurred. Some flaws are bound to be revealed during the building process. If you prove that defects occurred and additional repair costs were incurred, defect warranty liability is possible. I understand there is precedent that in such cases, the construction fee need not be paid in full.”
“That’s right. I once handled a similar case where we scoured the building and discovered that part of the first-floor staircase was tilted very slightly. We secured the defective area, amplified the situation through media reports highlighting the danger, temporarily drove down the construction company’s stock price, and eventually won.”
Having heard the answers, Seheon turned his body toward Yunsin once more.
“Attorney Do Yunsin.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“How do you plan to win? Answer using something other than the methods the seniors mentioned.”
“What if we offset with delay penalties? In any case, construction was delayed, so damages must have occurred. Both sides bear debt burdens.”
“But you said there are circumstances where the defendant prevented the finish work. How do you intend to ignore this?”
With his mind turning blank in an instant, and with Seheon’s pressure-interview-like onslaught continuing, the quick-wittedness he had been displaying was exhausted. He tried his hardest to squeeze out an answer, but nothing of substance came to mind. Yunsin closed his eyes tightly and then opened them, answering in a doubtful tone.
“If you give me some time, I will think of a way from now on.”
“I already gave you two days. This is a very simple lawsuit. Juniors with experience could do it with their eyes closed.”
“You gave me two days and told me to study it thoroughly and brief the case.”
In his narrowly opened eyes, a disappointing glint suggesting he had expected exactly that answer settled.
“So, in other words, you only did the homework I assigned. Memorizing documents, making a PPT, organizing key points, summarizing papers. Is this a law school preparing for the bar exam? For two days, you didn’t think at all about how we could win.”
Yunsin could not answer.
“Fourth-year. Doguk doesn’t need an objective attorney. It wants a winning attorney. Time? You must have lacked it. But will you say that to the client as well? ‘Sir, you only gave us two days. We’re sorry we lost. You must compensate the plaintiff.’”
His pale face, listening to the reproach, grew even whiter. Everything Seheon said was correct. He had one-dimensionally thought that the test would be about memorization and summarization skills. He had assumed that the foul-tempered Kang Seheon was trying to stress him out through a massive amount of material.
But if he had thought just a bit more calmly, it was impossible for someone so busy he couldn’t catch his breath. This law firm was a place where someone incapable of such simple tasks couldn’t set foot in the first place. He should have read the other purpose behind the assignment Seheon had given him.
“It’s been a month since you joined, and you’re still an outsider. Shall I wait longer? Will one more month be enough?”
“I’m sorry. I was short-sighted.”
“You can just do some pro bono work if you want. Play prosecutor while seeking justice, helping the pitiful. You can keep doing what you did outside. Then your conscience will be comfortable, and you can continue the life of a rich young master who lived by handing out charity. If that’s what you want, tell me. I have no hobby of working while pretending to like an associate I can’t stand.”
The moment he finished speaking, he grabbed the papers sitting neatly on the table and hurled them backward. The papers fluttered and fell behind him, partially covering the paintings on the wall before slowly settling onto the bare floor one by one. Yunsin felt quite choked up by Seheon throwing away the fruits of his two days of labor like trash. Even so, he opened his mouth feigning as much composure as possible.
“Does that mean you won’t hear any more?”
“You said it yourself. That a little time would suffice. You keep forgetting your own words. A bad habit.”
“There is still a criminal case remaining. Professional negligence causing bodily injury.”
Seheon, who had been halfway rising as if to leave, paused. Then he quietly watched Yunsin, who was trying to calm himself as he changed the screen to the criminal case summary.
Soon, their eyes met. Yunsin fluttered his eyelashes slightly as if quite indignant, but that was all. Though he felt wronged, he also understood the point Seheon was making. It blamed the essence of his heart that still felt resistance to the work style of a large law firm, merely running ahead with words. Yunsin calmly persuaded him in an even voice.
“You said you would attend the test. Those were your words, Chief. And it’s still my time. I still have things to say.”
“It’ll be the same thing repeating.”
“I was foolish, so I should be scolded. However, I want to show you the rest of what I’ve done.”
The seniors watched in silence, gauging the situation. Seheon twitched his eyebrows, then sat back down for some reason. He crossed his legs, folded his arms, and gestured arrogantly with his chin.
“Go ahead. I look forward to seeing what role you’ve taken this time.”
Yunsin bit his lip hard and gripped the pointer in his hand even tighter. Then he continued the presentation. Seheon observed that appearance very carefully.
The precarious air grew heavier and heavier, sinking down, down.
* * *
Drip, drip. Water running down a smooth jaw flowed into the washbasin drain. Yunsin’s eyes were bloodshot as he looked into the mirror above the washbasin with a wet face.
‘After all, no one at this firm calls you by your name. Everyone calls you a parachute.’
Surprisingly, it seemed that what he had given then was a hint. A partner in Seheon’s position would surely have minor tasks requiring a junior attorney’s help, yet for a month he had never so much as opened his mouth to give Yunsin a work order. It wasn’t because Yunsin was incompetent and had been left abandoned. It was because he couldn’t yet be certain that Yunsin was a person of Doguk.
“So that’s why he kept saying fourth-year, fourth-year.”
He had thought Seheon deliberately used a title other than his name to injure his pride. But that wasn’t it; Seheon truly saw him as merely an attorney who had spent four years grinding outside. It was quite humiliating.
He had done his best for two whole days to avoid being humiliated. He had really tried. Yet he ended up feeling like he had suffered the maximum humiliation possible; it was utter shit. Though it was partly his fault, even so, Seheon’s method of guidance was too merciless. The vivid image of Seheon relentlessly throwing away the results of his two days’ effort kept floating before his eyes.
“Sadist.”
Yunsin pulled out several paper towels and wiped his hands. Then he also recalled how Seheon had wiped the moisture gathered on his own eyelashes and transferred it to his lips. He scrubbed the moisture off his own face in irritation.
“If he’d peeked into my head, he could have taught me nicely from the start. Does he have a hobby of humiliating people? Or is his personality just that rotten? Being foul-tempered should have its limits.”
“Both? Probably.”
While he was roughly wiping the moisture from his face, before he knew it, he heard someone enter.
At first, it was a voice he was so used to hearing that he thought it sounded nice, but within seconds his mind did a one-eighty. It was a voice that absolutely should not be heard here right now. Forcing his stiff neck to turn toward the source of the sound, he saw Seheon appear, rolling up the sleeves of the jacket draped over his solid frame, approaching the washbasin.
He was screwed.
Yunsin’s face paled, his expression filled with chaos.
How much had he heard?
Sadist?
Rotten bastard?
“Unfortunately, I heard starting from ‘sadist.’”
Seheon, washing his hands stained with fountain pen ink, answered words that hadn’t been asked. Startled, Yunsin watched his reflection in the mirror in dismay.
“Chief, do you perhaps read minds?”
“I, for one, wish I could; my work would be much easier. Wipe your face gently. Your handsome looks are one of the very useful weapons you possess. Since there may come a time when I make appropriate use of them later, take care of them.”
Yunsin squeezed the wet towel as if it were Seheon and finished wiping his face. Then he looked at Seheon with a complicated expression. Perhaps because that attention felt uncomfortable, Seheon, who hadn’t even glanced his way, finally flicked his eyes to Yunsin in the mirror.
Through the clean, transparent glass that seemed capable of reflecting not only physical things but even inner thoughts, their gazes crossed.
And in that moment. One side of Seheon’s face, which had remained composed despite hearing blatant slander, crumpled as if contorting. Without hiding his displeasure in the slightest, he continued to ask.
“Why are you looking at me like that? It puts me in a bad mood.”
“It’s confusing.”
“I am the one who cannot grasp the meaning.”
“You give the disease and then the cure. That’s what you’re doing. You humiliated me earlier, and now you say you’ll use me later.”
“This is the cure? You’re very easy. I don’t get along with loose ones.”
“Don’t you know that doing this right in front of someone is very sadistic?”
“I’m a more honest sadist than you, who got caught cursing behind my back.”
Ah. Recalling the incident from earlier, Yunsin apologized immediately.
“I’m sorry. I was just…… angry. They say people even curse the president behind their backs, so please let it pass.”
“This bastard—does he have no sense of propriety, or simply no brain?”
Seheon shook his head as if to say he wanted nothing more to do with him, then wiped his cleanly washed hands with a paper towel. Then he turned to leave, ignoring Yunsin. But Yunsin immediately blocked his path, stopping him in his tracks.
“If you had presented exactly what you wanted, my output would have been different as well. It’s true that I approached it simplistically, but it’s also true that what you did was just nitpicking. That was too much.”
Surprisingly, Seheon showed an attitude of admitting it readily.
“That’s just how trials are. You submit evidence, and both sides nitpick, nitpick, nitpick. Victory and defeat depend on who can prove their points more convincingly and who can refute the other. That’s why I told you it wouldn’t help much for me to step in. You should have listened to my advice.”
“Yes, since one never knows what might happen, I’ll engrave the lesson of preparedness into my very bones.”
“Hard to say. You’re exactly the type who consistently won’t listen. I’m not expecting anything. I told you yesterday. Just do what you’re told. Don’t be a nuisance to me.”
At one point he’d told him to just do what he was told. At another, he’d scolded him for only doing what he was told. Yunsin didn’t know how he was supposed to take Seheon’s instructions anymore.
“Should I only do what I’m told? Should I also do things I’m not told? I can’t tell what your true feelings are, Attorney.”
“That’s a test, too. You find the answer.”
Clients often lie.
They would clutch a few of the most important or dangerous pieces of information to their chests, hiding them the entire time, only to be exposed by the opposing side at the decisive moment, frequently leaving their attorney in an awkward position. There were also countless times when they would flip-flop, obscuring the argument even though it was their own case, causing confusion.
He suspected that perhaps Seheon was trying to see how he overcame crises amidst that sort of chaos. However, Seheon’s inner strength was far too great for someone like him, who was not skilled at keeping things bottled up inside, to engage in such a battle of wills.
His mind a jumbled mess, Yunsin forcibly suppressed the questions pressing down on him as if compressing them.
While he did so, Seheon added:
“Now, move aside.”
“Wait a moment, Senior Kang Seheon.”
Seheon had been reaching out as if to push past if he wouldn’t move aside, but suddenly froze. Then, for some reason, without warning, he shoved Yunsin’s gaunt frame against the wall.
Thud! Yunsin furrowed his brow as his back struck the marble wall. And that wasn’t all. Two large, straight hands gripped his bony shoulders with such force and solidity, as if wringing them out. Because there was no expression on his face, Yunsin had no idea why he was suddenly doing this.
“Ugh, that hurts!”
Standing directly in front of him, Seheon was significantly taller than Yunsin. Because of that, a dark shadow fell over his pale face like an awning. Seheon’s expression remained dry as ever, but his voice was lower than usual. He warned in a gloomy, whispering tone.
“Don’t call me by name. Don’t call me senior, either. I never permitted it. Call me by my title.”
This could be a sensitive issue depending on the person. Yunsin could fully understand not wanting to be called by name. The firm’s atmosphere wasn’t like that, but habits from outside had manifested here, and he had only just realized his mistake.
But he couldn’t understand at all why Seheon was being so defensive about the title “senior.” It wasn’t simply because Yunsin was his junior at the law firm; in fact, Yunsin had been his direct junior in both undergraduate and law school. Perhaps because that question had surfaced on his face, tangled with signs that he was feeling pain, Seheon loosened his grip and answered, almost kindly.
“I don’t like having my relationship with someone I barely know defined so personally. There are only three titles you may call me. Attorney Kang, Chief Kang, or Team Leader Kang.”
“I-I’ll keep that in mind.”
Yunsin’s hands trembled slightly as he answered. He needlessly clenched the damp handkerchief in his grip. He glanced down at his wrist, and Seheon, catching that moment with his eyes, took one step back. Even so, the distance between them remained close.
“You asked me yesterday how I brought that partner to the courtroom.”
Because he brought up this topic so abruptly, Yunsin’s memory flashed back to that moment from yesterday. When Yunsin calmly nodded, Seheon continued.
“I didn’t give her anything.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she go there like a madwoman if there was nothing to gain?”
“I threatened her instead. I said if she didn’t come out and testify to the facts properly, I’d send all the evidence of her affair with the security chief to her only son. Fourth year. A mother’s love always yields results beyond my expectations.”
Yunsin tilted his head, not immediately understanding Seheon’s explanation. He narrowed his eyes and fell into deep thought before reaching a certain logical conclusion.
So. He hadn't bribed her with a reward, but had taken her family hostage to threaten her?
Meaning, to protect them, the party herself had walked into the lion’s den.
It was a baser method than he had imagined, and though his expectations were already low so there should have been nothing left to disappoint him, he was quite disappointed.
‘This trash…….’
“Did you really have to grab her weakness and shake her like that?”
His clear pupils were filled with genuine reproach. Seheon, who had been staring down at him intently, suddenly pressed his moist lips together tightly. As if he had heard the crudest possible insult, his gaze turned cold. His face chilled as well. An uncharacteristic tremor passed over his usually composed, unshakable features.
“Are you Jesus or something? If you’re going to act so high and mighty, go join a religious organization. Why the hell did you come here?”
“That’s not what I mean, at the very least……!”
The moment Yunsin tried to continue his reproach, Seheon grabbed the tie hanging around his neck tightly, just as he had when he came to Yunsin’s room a few days ago. Then, as if applying pressure, he yanked it tight with a swift motion.
“Attorney? Ugh!”
“I didn’t know you and Secretary Tak shared ties as well.”
“How did you know that, this is…….”
“So you can explain? That’s not what I want. Shut your mouth.”
His flustered pupils shook violently. However, Seheon paid no heed to his bewilderment and only tightened his grip further.
Before long, it wasn’t the thin fabric but the pressure from his large hand that began to torment him. The back of Seheon’s hard hand pressed down on the protruding part of Yunsin’s Adam’s apple. But no matter how much Yunsin twisted his body as his breath was gradually cut off, it was useless. He behaved violently, like a man devoid of mercy.
“Please let this go for a moment. Haah, I can’t breathe!”
“Even if you can’t breathe, your ears should be open, so listen well. That very thing you call ‘going that far’ is how I’ve survived. It was also the only method available to me when I had nothing. If you feel repulsed by this, I have nothing to teach you. Here, I’m the native, and you’re the immigrant. I won’t stop you. Get out.”
“Ugh, Attorney!”
“If you’re going to stay. Then wipe that contemptuous look off your face. It makes me feel like shit every time I see it.”
‘Contempt?’
Because this was advice he had never expected, Yunsin stopped struggling and swallowed a cough. Unable to regulate his breathing, his face was bright red as he stared blankly at Seheon, and Seheon slowly loosened his grip.
Though his complexion gradually returned to its original color, Yunsin remained silent instead of condemning Seheon's ruthless conduct. It would be more fitting to say his thoughts had grown so complicated that he could not bring himself to speak.
Amid the silence, he quickly regained his composure and was the first to break the stillness.
“I’ll give you some time going forward. Study me well to see if you really want to extract something from me. Sign the formal contract then. I’ve already spoken with Attorney Song about it.”
Tap, tap. Perhaps because there was still moisture on the front and back of his palms, Seheon lightly tapped Yunsin’s bony shoulder. Then he turned around without hesitation and left the restroom.
Yunsin, who had been leaning against the wall, rubbed the back of his head against the cold marble and caught his breath. After holding himself up alone, he turned his head toward the mirror on his left. He was pale as a sheet.
〈Wipe that contemptuous look off your face. It makes me feel like shit every time I see it.〉
Goethe said it. People have a habit of despising what they cannot understand.
He hadn’t been particularly aware that he was looking at him that way, but Seheon’s words were probably correct. Perhaps he had been doing so ever since entering this place. There was no way someone as shrewd as Seheon wouldn’t have noticed.
Had Seheon read nothing but contempt in his eyes for the past month?
He suspected that was indeed the case.
‘What is this feeling, exactly.’
Anyone could see Seheon was the one who had done something wrong, and even Seheon himself seemed well aware of it.
And yet, strangely, Yunsin felt as though he had torn Seheon apart, and it pained him slightly.
* * *
There is a saying.
The best lawyer is one who prevents a lawsuit from ever happening.
Yunsin generally agreed with that saying. He felt proud after successfully concluding two pro bono cases he had been working on for nearly two months through settlement. However, while these kinds of public interest cases suited his constitution, he felt it was about time to stop merely warming up.
However, it was almost two months since he had joined the firm, and still no orders had come down from Seheon.
“He told me to study him. How can I study him when he won’t even show his face?”
He was nominally a member of Seheon’s team, but in reality, he had never assisted with any of Seheon’s work. This time as well, the moment the case concluded, a new pro bono case was delegated to his own office. He had inherited two cases that other senior attorneys had been handling.
He had lingered around the parking lot and lobby around commuting hours several times, hoping for a chance encounter that might lead to conversation, like when they had run into each other before he joined the firm. Seheon’s quitting time was unpredictable, but he tended to arrive at the office at the same time every day, so the odds of running into him were relatively high. Yet somehow, as if they had been mortal enemies in a past life who were never meant to meet, whenever Yunsin waited for him, Seheon’s steps would deviate and he would miss the timing every single time.
Stealing a glance out the window, Yunsin instinctively fixed his eyes on the office across from his. As if revealing his cold, emotionless nature, the blinds were drawn over the entire window. And it wasn’t just today. When he had casually asked Secretary Tak about it in passing, the answer had been that Seheon had always done so. It was a maddening situation—being close enough to see him working busily every day, yet unable to stop him to talk.
‘Somehow, I’ve spent the whole month waiting for news of Kang Seheon.’
What on earth do you want to do with me?
Could it be that he was exhausting him like this so he would leave on his own?
His thoughts spiraling until he reached the worst possible conclusion, Yunsin sprang to his feet. Deciding it wouldn’t do, he went outside.
It was almost lunchtime, but fortunately, Secretary Tak remained in the secretarial office. Leaning his arm against the partition, Yunsin kept stealing glances at Seheon’s office window as he lowered his voice to ask:
“Excuse me, Secretary Tak. Has Attorney Kang said anything? Am I really doing pro bono again?”
Secretary Tak tilted his head as if wondering the same thing.
“I know, right? Nothing. But you definitely passed the first test.”
Recalling the humiliation he had suffered that day in front of his seniors, a faint flush rose to Yunsin’s cheeks.
“That counts as passing? Shouldn’t I have to retake the test?”
“You don’t know Attorney Kang well, do you? He truly has no mercy. If you hadn’t passed, he would have already sent you to another team. Just wait. He’ll give you the second test question.”
“Will he really give me one? I’ve waited another whole month, and he’s still like he fell off the face of the earth.”
Secretary Tak alternated his gaze between the anxious Yunsin and the window of Seheon’s office with its blinds drawn, then leaned in and opened his mouth.
“You seem anxious, so let me tell you one more thing. Associates from other teams all reviewed the paper written by Attorney Do.”
“That paper from the last test? How?”
“Attorney Kang had it copied and distributed. He said it was fairly decent. He said that from now on, if you’re told to report on the issues, do it like this. In truth, lawyers do almost nothing but paperwork, so it’s a profession where you have to write better than anyone, yet even at our firm, there are more people who write messy legal prose than you’d think. For your reference, not a single one of the Chief’s associates has ever received that kind of praise before.”
“‘Fairly decent’? That counts as praise?”
He had thrown the paper down right in front of him that day, so Yunsin had wondered what kind of contradiction this was. Utterly dumbfounded, Yunsin raised his voice slightly to ask, and Secretary Tak shrugged.
“Well. He is rather defensive about everything.”
“Right. Sometimes he seems like someone with a crack in one part of his brain.”
Perhaps because that muttered retort had sounded like a sentence laden with many meanings, Secretary Tak fell into thought for a moment. He responded a beat later. His tone was quite cautious.
“The Chief knows perfectly well what is right and wrong. He ignores it because it’s uncomfortable. However, I think he considers himself naturally the subordinate one. Someone gives him work, and he does it. He’s never said as much, but I think he feels like he’s being used. Besides, this is a world of the law of the jungle. If you lose the fight, you become worthless.”
Even the impatient Yunsin felt as if his breath had stopped upon hearing these words. Meaning he couldn’t move an inch. It was because words Seheon had once said to him came to mind.
He had continued to wonder why someone always composed in any situation had been so unusually shaken by the contempt he saw in Yunsin’s eyes. It had weighed on his mind constantly.
Hearing Secretary Tak’s testimony, he could now guess the reason to some extent. However, since that wasn’t his own position, it was still difficult to make a clear judgment about Kang Seheon.
Was he a bad person?
Or was he simply someone who hated weakness?
His thoughts complicated, Yunsin looked at Secretary Tak. When their eyes met, he felt his mouth moving of its own accord.
“Secretary Tak, do you like Chief Kang?”
He burst out laughing as if bewildered.
“Of course I like him.”
“Is that a given?”
“The Chief has his good points too. His rewards and punishments are crystal clear. He demands nothing beyond doing your job well. He never orders you around for personal matters. Isn’t that the best kind of boss?”
“You’re the first person I’ve heard make this kind of assessment of Chief Kang.”
“The people who told you otherwise don’t really know the Chief. This is my opinion after watching him all this time. And this is just my gut feeling, but I think he cares about you quite a bit, Attorney Do.”
He didn’t know exactly what kind of “care” this meant, but judging from things Seheon had said to him directly, it probably wasn’t entirely baseless. Seheon had said he disliked him. He had warned him that he ruined his mood. It seemed that was visible to others as well. Yunsin shook off the thoughts and, instead of replying, was about to give a slight bow and return to his office when Secretary Tak stood up first.
“I’m heading down to the cafeteria now. You should eat too, Attorney. Enjoy your meal.”
“Ah, right. I should. Let’s go together.”
“Where are you going? You should eat with Chief Kang.”
It was the first time Yunsin had heard of this, and a look of bewilderment was evident on his face.
“He’s going to eat with me? When? Where? Why?”
“Didn’t you come out after hearing him and matching the time? He said he’d deliver the message himself? Let me check. One moment.”
Just as Secretary Tak was reaching for the intercom to verify the facts.
Bang.
From the office across the hall, the protagonist of this topic, Seheon, opened the door and came out. Seeing the two of them standing side by side in the secretarial office, he shot them a gaze that was subtly annoyed and faintly languid, as if to say, “What?”
Was it his imagination, or did the edge of that gaze seem sharp and somewhat stinging?
“Let’s have lunch together.”
Truthfully, Yunsin felt almost glad to hear that low voice so close up, after what felt like so long. But before he could convey that positive emotion, Seheon tossed a car key at him with a flick of his wrist. Reflexively extending both hands, Yunsin caught the object. At the same time, he nodded eagerly, and Seheon slightly furrowed his brow as if displeased before walking ahead.
The bewildered Yunsin gave Secretary Tak an eye-gesture indicating he would go first, then ran after him. In front of the elevator, he accelerated to overtake Seheon and quickly pressed the down button.
A heavy silence hung between the two of them standing side by side.
Feeling uncomfortable with the stillness, Yunsin was the first to break the silence.
“Chief. Do you know it’s been a month since you called for me?”
“I’ll decline both, whether you’re questioning my cognitive abilities or reproaching me for neglecting you.”
“……I was just trying to start a conversation. Not everyone speaks with the intention of testing the other person.”
For an instant, their gazes crossed in the elevator glass. Whether it was an illusion or not, Seheon’s eyes seemed to hold a hint of regret.
Yunsin, who had been staring at him without hiding his wounded feelings, flinched without realizing it. He was worried he might have hurt Seheon’s feelings again with a thoughtlessly thrown glance.
The moment Yunsin turned his head toward where Seheon stood, intending to clear up any misunderstanding, the elevator doors opened with a ding.
“I’ve been on the phone all morning. My mouth hurts. Shut up and go quietly.”
Seheon answered as if spitting the words out and boarded first, followed shortly by Yunsin.
After the doors closed, Yunsin’s pupils, which had been quietly watching the panel, slowly descended like the numbers on the floor indicator. Finally arriving at their destination, he secretly stole a glance at Seheon’s profile with its distinct curves, and suddenly had this thought:
Maybe he’s not a bad person, but someone who became bad because he hates weakness.
Yunsin, gauging his mood, opened his mouth very cautiously.
“Attorney. About what you said to me last time.”
“This is definitely an attempt to probe me now. Overruled.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the main point yet. I only got to the ‘pre’ in preface.”
“Whether your words are a preface or a conclusion, you won't hear my answer, so stop staring. I’m not a painting.”
At his low warning, Yunsin’s gaunt frame flinched. He hadn’t thought Seheon wouldn’t notice his gaze, but he hadn’t expected him to be so conscious of it either, so he was flustered. A shameful feeling bloomed as if he had been caught doing something insolent in secret.
Perhaps because Seheon had warned him to stop, his curiosity-filled gaze only wanted to follow him more. Troubled by this, Yunsin barely managed to avert his eyes and pursed his lips for no reason. While he put on an indifferent act out of embarrassment, the machine faithfully raced toward the basement.
Their figures were still reflected in the elevator doors, but now Seheon was no longer looking his way. The moment Yunsin realized that, he understood this:
He was deliberately avoiding conversation about that incident.
‘Coward.’
Yunsin swallowed the three-syllable word inwardly, his breath sinking faintly.