The interior of the private room felt much like a sturdy sailing ship.
Feeling as though he were floating upon gently flowing water, Yunsin constantly observed Seheon. There was no way he could have failed to notice such an overt gaze, yet he simply continued his meal in silence.
How much time had passed?
Seheon, having wiped his mouth with a napkin, looked directly at Yunsin across from him. Yunsin, who had been drinking water, carefully set down his cup.
"You have something to say, don't you? Go ahead. I've finished eating, too."
"I'll skip the preliminaries and ask. What's your relationship with Attorney Song?"
Unable to even guess the intention behind the question, Yunsin had no choice but to ask in return.
"I don't understand the meaning of the question."
"Before you joined the firm, you met her three times at a hotel. Once to submit your resume, twice for interviews."
"That's right... how did you know that?"
Seheon's expression was inscrutable as he moved his lips peculiarly. As if to prove that this was not a misconception, his following question carried a slightly lewd tone for a lunchtime conversation under the blazing sun.
"Did you sleep with her? I saw you at the hotel. Taesan Hotel suite."
Yunsin's hand, which had been fiddling with a napkin with nowhere else to go, stopped dead. Inevitably, his cheeks flushed slightly.
"What on earth is that supposed to...?"
At the time, not knowing how the conversation would progress, he had sought out a place away from people's eyes and had been forced to choose that location.
They had sat for roughly over two hours each time. At every meeting, his sister's chief secretary had been present as well. He had listened to Attorney Song's explanation of the law firm's general atmosphere and received advice on how he should work at the company going forward. Yunsin had spoken about his sister, himself, and his father, and had also revealed how he had worked up until then. All they had done there was talk.
However, a married senior industry figure and an unmarried junior coming and going from a hotel together would hardly look good, so Yunsin's sister had blocked any information from leaking out. That Seheon had uncovered something so deliberately hidden suggested his information-gathering capabilities were at a level that could not be ignored.
"What is your intention in asking this?"
When Yunsin asked, unable to hide his bewilderment, Seheon tapped the table with his fingertip and replied nonchalantly.
"I'm asking because I wondered if the two of you might be entangled personally. No matter that you're Professor Do's son, or a connection to the Suhan Group, Song's choice is strange. Handam, Taesan, Daeyeong... I'm one of the few attorneys in this country who have faced nearly every major corporation. Naturally, I know many project secrets. Planting the in-law of a specific corporation by my side? It's only natural to be suspicious."
"Are you saying you think there was a connection between my sister and Attorney Song? That I'm some kind of intermediary selling myself to extract information from her for Suhan?"
"It's unlikely, but the possibility exists. Isn't it?"
"What if I had slept with her?"
A voice far sharper than usual escaped him. Seheon, who had been steadily gazing at Yunsin's somewhat agitated face, soon leaned back comfortably against the chair as if deflating. Yunsin didn't know exactly what he had seen in his face. But what Seheon had read from it was the truth.
"So you didn't."
"Shall I sleep with her now, then?"
"Would you? Then you'd be providing evidence that turns my suspicion into certainty."
Up to the point of harboring doubts about him, the logic was convincing enough. As he said, Seheon was someone who held vast amounts of corporate information. Yunsin thought that even if he were in Seheon's position, he might have had such thoughts at least once.
But he couldn't quite understand how Seheon could suspect even Attorney Song, whom he was close with and who had financially supported him since childhood, of stabbing him in the back.
"What could you do with that?"
"It would give me grounds to cut you loose."
Yunsin felt a surge of emotion at his immediate answer, without a moment's hesitation. It wasn't merely because he had heard such an absurd, sexually targeted question. Somehow, it stung to hear such nasty words coming from Seheon's mouth—asking if he had slept with someone, saying it would be grounds to fire him. It seemed that by secretly watching him every day, he had one-sidedly built up an inner sense of intimacy.
Perhaps that was why. He impulsively threw out a question he would have been far better off not asking.
"What happens if I sleep with you, Senior Partner? Then which one of us gets fired?"
It seemed to be a question that even he, who was always prepared in every respect, had not anticipated. Seheon immediately opened his mouth as if to answer, but soon let out a hollow laugh.
"Why are you laughing?"
"I need to rethink the basics from the start. Unfortunately, I'm not the one who gets fired; I'm the one who does the firing."
"Then no matter who I sleep with, I'm the only one who gets fired."
"It would seem so. If you want to leave the firm, tell me anytime. I'll help."
"I won't leave. I'll never sleep with Senior Partner Song or Senior Partner Gang, either."
He couldn't clearly identify how this answer had scratched at the other's mood. But one thing was certain: it had scratched somewhere. Seheon's expression was outwardly calm, but instinctively, Yunsin sensed an unpleasant mood hidden behind it. Yet no effective way to deal with it came to mind other than changing the subject.
"T-the two of you have quite an age gap, but I heard you are very close friends. That you have an extremely comfortable relationship, and that it was Attorney Song Mihui who scouted you to Doguk and supported you so you could grow this much. Isn't that right?"
Fortunately, Seheon added to this clumsily changed topic.
"I suppose all your close friends never betray each other and get along well, even if they died and came back to life?"
"You don't have to be so extreme."
"I don't have friends. I merely have business partners whom I can trust considerably regarding competence. It's just that she's someone I've known for a long time. Ah, though I did gain one."
His gesture of glancing toward Yunsin was elegant. Despite uttering such words of distrust, he looked strangely noble; it felt like watching a scene from a meticulously composed art film.
Yunsin, who had been standing dumbstruck in silence like a pitcher who had just given up a grand slam, ran his palm once down the front of his throat. Then, as if having made up his mind, he stared clearly at Seheon.
"Excuse me, but—"
"Don't."
"Senior Partner, just where did things start going wrong with you?"
"Should I send you an opinion brief on why things went wrong? It would turn out to be an epic poem."
It was a reply of cold frequency, but he didn't seem offended by the attitude. Yunsin had felt it before—Seheon didn't seem to take much offense at the rather blunt exchanges that occurred when communicating with subordinates. At least, not as long as the content was factual.
Yunsin was someone who, if he was clearly in the right, would see it through to the other party regardless of age or rank. However, the legal industry was extremely hierarchical. One reason he had never thought of joining a large law firm until now was that such vertical relationships made him uncomfortable. Given that his position and Seheon's were as different as heaven and earth, Yunsin had in fact found this open attitude of his somewhat unexpected every time.
And yet, in other respects, he reacted with excessive sensitivity, making it impossible to grasp his measure. Was he ultimately a flexible person, or a closed-off one? No matter how many times Yunsin observed him, he was confused.
"I really didn't sleep with her. Satisfied?"
"Well. It's become even more frustrating."
"It's because you find me very suspicious, isn't it?"
When Yunsin glanced at him, testing the waters, Seheon volleyed back without concern.
"No. You're too simple to be suspected by me."
"It doesn't sound like a compliment..."
"That's because it's not."
For a moment, Yunsin bit his lower lip and stared at him quietly. Seheon, who had been holding his gaze, explained calmly, as if finding it difficult to get out of a car he had already boarded.
"It was the last doubt I had. I think rationally that it isn't so. But there's always the one-in-a-million chance. Especially, irregularities and variables are what you must guard against the most. Don't forget."
"That should be within reason."
"You said it yourself back then. The embezzlement case involving the CEO of a savings bank five years ago. The prosecution seemed to think the business partner would never appear as a witness. What happened?"
At the time, the public prosecutor, who had not doubted at all once a certain conviction took hold, had designed the trial by completely ruling out the possibility that Seheon's side would bring in the business partner. As a result, he had to watch the humiliating sight of the person he had prosecuted with his own hands being released on a suspended sentence. Seheon seemed to be pointing out that one-in-a-million chance.
Eliminating every suspicious point this flawlessly was, in fact, a tremendous advantage as a lawyer. Reconfirming everything, even things that could be glossed over, was truly doing one's utmost for the client, and he honestly thought it was something worth learning. Seen strictly from the client's standpoint, Seheon was a textbook example of a good lawyer.
But that was only in the professional sphere; Yunsin didn't think he could live that fiercely in his own life. Wasn't it normal to trust a friend you had relied on for a long time?
"I've thought this from the beginning, but I think we're a bit different."
In truth, he had wanted to ask, "Doesn't it feel lonely living that mentally isolated?" But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Perhaps because he couldn't imagine at all what kind of answer would come from him.
"I know."
"Wait. Then, if this was your last doubt..."
"When you return to the firm, Tak will give you a contract. Sign it. Provided, of course, that you have the will."
"Are you serious?"
After a brief pause, Seheon lightly nodded. Yunsin's complexion, which had been somewhat deflated, brightened considerably. From now on would be the real start. Yet compared to the emotional turmoil of the past two months spent conscious of Seheon, who had not spared him so much as a glance let alone held onto him, he had indeed cleared a major hurdle. Time at a law firm was far denser than that of ordinary people; two months had felt like two years.
"Thank you. For accepting me. I'll really do my best."
"Don't you worry? I told you to look into me carefully."
"If I were going to worry about that after joining, I wouldn't have joined in the first place."
He nodded as if to say he knew as much.
"See, you're simple."
It wasn't praise, but it didn't seem to be an insult either. Yunsin, secretly relieved, smiled faintly, then soon opened his eyes wide. A question gradually settled on his pale face.
"But why are you suddenly allowing this?"
"It's not sudden. I've been watching you the whole time and simply judged that you're worth keeping around."
"You barely even showed your face. I thought I was the only one who wanted to keep looking."
Why was he fussing like lovers would? Yunsin was inwardly flustered despite being the one who said it. That wasn't the meaning he had intended to convey, but explaining it seemed like it would only make him look foolish, so he closed his mouth. He wished Seheon would say something, anything, but Seheon merely raised one eyebrow slightly and stared fixedly at him, as if he had heard something curious, making the atmosphere even stranger.
"Ahem." Yunsin cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject.
"Then, um, what should I do?"
Seheon, having checked his wristwatch, seemed to think little time remained and responded immediately.
"I asked you to eat separately because there's something we need to get straight first."
"I'm listening."
"Fourth-year. As you know, I sometimes do shameless things. Of course, only when it's absolutely necessary."
"I know."
"Do you know specifically?"
"You threaten people by exploiting their weaknesses, or bring down solid companies overnight, don't you?"
Meeting his eyes as if to say that was correct, Seheon neatened his attire. He tightened his tie, adjusted the position of his cufflinks, and so on—his movements looked quite practiced. Yunsin hated to admit it, but he was splendid at every moment.
"I unconditionally find weaknesses—not only of corporations, but also of the opposing plaintiff or defendant and those around them, and of the attorneys and prosecutors, and if absolutely necessary, of the assigned judge as well. I love deals and negotiations, and cutting corners. I'm also skilled at lying. I'm not so low as to fabricate nonexistent evidence, but I often pretend not to see what is there. Because if one didn't see it because one couldn't see it, it's not a crime."
"Does that mean I have to follow your ways from now on?"
Seheon stopped moving his hands and spoke decisively.
"If you were someone capable of that, I wouldn't have taken you out separately for a meal at such a busy time. Just do work your own way. I'll only give you what you can handle. Of course, occasionally I may order you to do something my way. I will be the one giving the order, but if it is ever exposed externally, all responsibility will fall on you, the fourth-year. I'm your senior, not your babysitter. That's all. Memorized it?"
"I have."
"And the most important thing. Never speak out of turn about my judgment again. There is no 'never' for you. If I decide it to be so, then you're sleeping with me."
He roughly grasped what Seheon wanted to say. To an associate, a partner's word was law, it seemed. However, the example was so bewildering that he fell silent for a moment. Perhaps reading his thoughts, Seheon added irritably.
"Don't make that face. I have no interest in your lower half."
Silent gazes passed between them as if gauging each other's strength. He was the type to speak his mind, so he would likely have to be quite careful going forward. As if aware of this concern, Seheon held Yunsin's gaze and then spoke.
"'This violates the law,' 'this goes against morality,' 'this breaches attorney ethics'—why did you go that far? I can't stand the sight of you spewing such insolent words. You'll be shown the door."
"You don't like being told you're wrong."
"It's not that I dislike it; there's simply no reason to hear it. I'm never wrong."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Well, this might be the first time I'm wrong. Accepting you."
As if asking whether he meant himself, Yunsin pointed a finger at himself. Seheon did not answer, but that reaction alone was answer enough for Yunsin. When he smiled awkwardly, Seheon furrowed his brows as if displeased by it; seeing that, it seemed the voyage of these two standing at opposite poles would not be very smooth. In any case, from today, they had raised anchor.
"No matter how I look at it, this seems like a loss for me. Should we make a new deal?"
"Did you make a deal with Senior Partner Song on the condition that you'd raise me? May I ask what it was?"
"Something I've always wanted. A kind of freedom."
The answer was so abstract that Yunsin had to find the answer himself. There was one thing that suddenly came to mind.
"Is it the profit-sharing ratio?"
Seheon did not answer. That became certainty for Yunsin.
"So I bring in money, then? Do you like money?"
"Money is the spoils of victory. I don't hate it."
"It sounds like you don't particularly like it, either."
"I don't have time to spend it cleaning up after the messes others make."
Yunsin suddenly clamped his mouth shut. He recalled what Tak, the secretary, had said—that Seheon thought of him as a born subordinate. Perhaps he had pierced right through to the essence of the matter with great accuracy.
Feeling somewhat complicated, Yunsin sat still. Having finished all he had to say, Seheon rose first. Then he cast a look of exasperation, as if asking why he was dawdling.
"If you understood me, get up. There's a mountain of documents to see."
Only then did Yunsin jump to his feet, collect both Seheon's jacket and his own, and open the door to the private room.
* * *
Beside the main building of Law Firm Doguk stood a branch office used by an affiliate nonprofit corporation of the law firm. Yunsin was currently at the office of the social contribution team there.
This nonprofit corporation had obtained its establishment permit ten years ago and had even received approval from the Ministry of Economy and Finance as an official service and donation organization, steadily encouraging attorneys' pro bono service. The chairperson was Doguk's managing partner, and the board of directors consisted of several partner attorneys, including Attorney Song. Seheon was one of them.
However, Seheon merely donated a set amount annually and had almost no record of activity. It seemed that in his years at the firm, he had never once set foot in the branch building.
He was not the type to waste time on such matters. Thus, Yunsin was filling the time allotted to him instead. So to speak, it was the first mission Seheon had personally assigned.
'He gave me work that suits me, so why do I feel like I'm being squeezed dry?'
Having calmed his breathing, Yunsin recalled that handsome face but soon shook his head. He then held out documents to the middle-aged woman sitting before him.
This was a program conducted one day each month, providing free legal consultation services to socially vulnerable classes as defined by law—the elderly, low-income earners, women with career interruptions, and so on. Applications were accepted by phone or online and conducted through interviews. Holding the woman's gaze, Yunsin kindly continued his explanation.
"Ma'am. Um... a person who leaves their domicile, that is, the place where they live, and has no prospect of returning for a while is called an absentee."
The inquiry was fairly simple. The woman had scraped together her entire assets to lend approximately 15 million won to an acquaintance she was close to as business capital, but the debtor had seemingly vanished, cutting off contact for a long time. She was asking if there was any way to recover the money in this situation. Fortunately, in this case, the debtor owned one commercial unit within an apartment complex.
Yunsin displayed the relevant legal provisions on the monitor for her to see.
"Here, as you can see, Article 22 of the Civil Act concerns the management of an absentee's property. It's to temporarily manage the assets until the absentee returns—or until their survival or death is confirmed. Put simply, not only family members but also creditors can become managers."
"Then if I become that manager, can I recover the amount I lent? That gentleman has a shop in the apartment commercial complex. It's a first-floor building. It's his. I lent him the money trusting that he wouldn't run off with that as collateral, but to think there'd be no word at all..."
"That's right. You can't dispose of the property arbitrarily, but you can manage it. File a petition for the appointment of a property manager and request that the court designate you as the manager. Then you can lease the building to another tenant and collect monthly rent."
At having found a way to recover her money, a bright look flitted across the middle-aged woman's face.
"Then can Doguk do it for me? The young lawyer here can do it."
At her words, Yunsin shook his head with an apologetic gaze.
"Our firm doesn't take on personal cases like this. So I thought about what I could do for you and spoke to an attorney I know. Just give my name when you go. He'll help you well."
"It'd be so nice if Doguk could do it..."
"There will be an opportunity later."
Yunsin wrote down the address of the legal office he had worked at before joining this firm and the contact information of the office manager, then held it out to the woman. She seemed quite disappointed, but soon expressed her gratitude with several bows and left the office.
Feeling mixed emotions—the regret of being unable to help further and the satisfaction of having helped to some extent—Yunsin reviewed the next client's documents. He had read them once before coming here, but he scanned them again to ensure he had the details down precisely.
"Separated. The husband is a long-term unemployed."
Having pulled up the checked legal provisions on the monitor, Yunsin picked up the internal intercom. He signaled that the next client could come in.
A few seconds later, accompanied by a knock, a man who appeared to be in his thirties entered and seated himself before him. He greeted Yunsin politely and got straight to the point with admirable efficiency.
"I've roughly seen the written application. It says your wife agreed to a temporary separation but hasn't returned home even after the deadline passed. How long have you been separated?"
"It's been about eight months. Originally, we said we'd live separately for about three or four months."
"Mm, the period has more than doubled from the original plan. Is there anything left in writing documenting the agreement between the two of you?"
The man seemed to think deeply, then answered in a trembling voice.
"Nothing like that. Ah, but I have a recording. At the time, we were conflicted over whether to divorce or not, so just in case, I recorded all my conversations with her. It's probably still on my old phone. But do recordings have legal effect?"
"Fortunately, recordings between the parties do have evidentiary value. What was the cause of the separation?"
"I quit my job and studied for a long time. I suffered and suffered, but without any results, the conflict kept building. So we decided to take some time, get my bearings, and try starting over. Now that I've finished getting everything in order, I went back home, but my wife has vanished into thin air. She quit the part-time job she was doing on the side, and changed her phone number, too."
"While you were still getting things in order, your wife unilaterally... What do you want to do, sir? It was roughly written on the consultation application, but it was stated too abstractly."
"I want her to come back home. But her family says if we agreed to a separation, it's over, and they started talking about divorce mediation. I don't want that."
Having heard that much, Yunsin showed the man the legal provisions on the screen, just as he had done with the previous client. He continued explaining to the man watching the monitor.
"You've likely heard of it. There's a duty of cohabitation between spouses. Moreover, if the initially agreed separation period was four months, then your wife has now failed to fulfill that duty, as over twice that period has passed. This duty of cohabitation includes both spiritual and physical aspects."
"So we have to live together?"
Yunsin calmly nodded.
"Yes. However, the wife has failed to fulfill her duty while the husband has. If you have no intention of divorcing, you've done well. Even in the unlikely event that you can't reach an agreement and it goes to court, since you have evidence proving your clear intention to preserve the family, it will be difficult for your wife to win that lawsuit."
"Really?"
"However, in these cases, I first recommend dialogue. If you forcefully demand she return home because she's violating the law, she's likely to resist even more. Nine times out of ten, the relationship only deteriorates further. I recommend a couple's counseling center first rather than a law office. There are several good ones in your current neighborhood."
It was just as he was trying to persuade the man more sincerely to avoid hurting his feelings as much as possible. Along with an urgent knock from outside, a familiar attorney appeared. He was a senior attorney under Seheon. It seemed he happened to be here on business as well.
Yunsin gestured to the man to wait a moment, but in the meantime, the senior attorney spoke.
"Attorney Do, Senior Partner Gang is urgently looking for you. You need to go to the main building right away. He said ten minutes."
"He is my last consultation at the moment. Please tell him I'll leave after wrapping up."
"I'm not trying to interfere, but I don't think that's a good idea. You should go immediately when called. There's a team meeting after that."
"A meeting? This is the first I'm hearing of it."
"It's not an all-hands meeting. It's a corporate commercial case; several senior attorneys from our team are on it by specialty."
He had checked the time on the way over; walking at a normal pace from the branch office to the main building took exactly about nine minutes. He had to account for the time that had passed since the senior received the message, and the additional time it would take to ride the elevator up. If he didn't run at full speed, it would be cutting it close.
"Ah, then I'm sorry, but could you please wrap this up for me? I'm asking you. The wife hasn't returned home even after the agreed deadline following the separation. He's currently only able to contact her family, and he says he has no intention of divorcing."
He pointed to the monitor and gave a brief explanation, and the experienced senior signaled that he understood, having apparently grasped the case immediately. It wasn't that the senior was taking on the trouble to help Yunsin, but because the summons he had just delivered was on Seheon's orders. Whatever the reason, Yunsin was grateful. With a truly apologetic expression, he asked the man for his understanding as well.
"He is also an attorney at our firm. He has much more experience than I do, so he'll help you well. I'm truly sorry, but I'll excuse myself first."
Fortunately, the client readily agreed. Yunsin bowed politely once more to the two people in the consultation room and deftly exited the space. He then began to run, slowly at first, while checking his wristwatch.
"Ten minutes... I wonder if I'll make it."
His steps quickened, and he began to pant.
* * *
The large conference room on the seventh floor was bustling.
With a meeting regarding corporate commercial litigation imminent, the team's attorneys were extremely busy preparing.
A private equity investment specialist firm had filed a claim for damages against a counterparty company with which it had signed a consortium agreement, citing failure to fulfill stock exchange obligations. It was a strategy meeting for that litigation. It was a case that should have gone to the litigation team originally, but it seemed Mihui, who was well-acquainted with the client, had brokered the deal and asked Seheon directly to take it on.
Yunsin returned from the annex building, panting as he stood in front of the conference room. He had come here because Seheon was not in his office, but he could not see a trace of him here either. Yunsin reached out to grab one of the senior attorneys to ask where he was. But he withdrew it immediately. Everyone looked far too busy. It was no different from a battlefield. Yet it overflowed with more vitality than he had expected.
“For this financial statement, fix the font so it looks decent! You bastard, what the hell is this readability? Leave ours, reprint Chief Gang’s. Don’t you know he won’t read it and will just throw it away if the readability is bad? I’ll give you four minutes. Run! And whoever finished the final corporate law summary for the Chief! Corporate law final!”
“I did that! I’ll handle the briefing too. Someone put in a request for us to hire more junior associates for our team. Make them do this grunt work. Do you think we’re the ones who should be preparing for meetings?”
“Precedents! Precedents, precedents!”
“We’re printing them! Secretary Tak will bring them!”
Yunsin watched them work in a daze, feeling somewhat strange. It felt like a different space from when he had been briefing cases. He had been feeling that way ever since he came here. They were people who worked with the exact same license, yet somehow they looked like they stood in a different world from him.
He had always thought of large law firms as places where lawyers grew fat, as a massive pillar of South Korea’s judicial power. So he had assumed there could be no place more desolate. But their work felt far healthier than he had prematurely assumed, which left him bewildered.
Should he help? But could he butt in without Seheon’s orders? Even if he could, he knew nothing about this corporate commercial litigation, so what was he supposed to do first? Was this even the right place for him? Just as Yunsin, fiercely wracking his brain, was about to step inside in a trance to help distribute documents at least,
someone appeared from behind and grabbed his slender shoulder. Even through his clothes, he could feel the other person’s soft skin. Swallowing a gasp, he turned around to find Seheon standing there, the one he had been waiting for. The office manager had been chasing half a step behind him, hurriedly holding out a document envelope; when Seheon took the envelope and gestured for him to be on his way, the manager bowed and quietly stepped aside.
“Attorney Gang? Where have you been? You weren’t in your office.”
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“Everyone looks so busy, sir.”
“Do you know how much that litigation is worth? It’s not your place to step in yet. Anyway, I gave you ten minutes. Are you late or not?”
Only then did Yunsin admit his guilt, replying sheepishly,
“I’m four minutes late. I really ran as hard as I could. But I felt the limits of my stamina…”
His handsome brows furrowed slightly. But perhaps because he himself had stepped out for a moment, Yunsin’s tardiness seemed to fall within permissible bounds.
“Follow me.”
Without hesitation, he removed his hand from Yunsin’s shoulder and flicked his finger. Quietly watching Seheon’s retreating figure, Yunsin unknowingly pressed his palm against his own shoulder where Seheon’s body heat had touched. It felt as though the gentle warmth he had given still lingered. Then, wondering what he was doing, he hurriedly followed behind.
Having entered his office, Seheon tossed the envelope aside and sat perched on his desk at an angle. Then he stared intently at Yunsin, who still had a hint of panting in his breath.
“Fourth-year.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Where have you been wandering around? Aren’t you keeping to your post? Don’t make me go looking for you first.”
“Ah, I went to the annex for a bit. The free legal consultation is scheduled for the fourth Friday of every month. And it turned out to be today.”
He didn’t respond. He simply fixed a cold gaze and crossed his arms. The persistent, tenacious stare grew burdensome, so Yunsin glanced unnecessarily at the window facing the hallway. Come to think of it, the blinds that had been drawn almost every day for a while were fully rolled up today. Recognizing the difference and looking back at Seheon, he found him maintaining the same attitude.
Realizing his mistake, Yunsin immediately corrected himself.
“I’ll keep to my post properly.”
“You spent a solid three times as long as a one-hour job and came back saying you went to the annex for a bit? You probably overstepped and got overly involved when a brief consultation would have sufficed. Nobody handles incorporated association work as earnestly as you.”
“Did you see how I handled it?”
“Did I? I’ve been stuck in the office all day.”
That meant his behavior pattern was obvious enough.
“I was just trying to be sincere. Everyone there is in a difficult situation. And since the records go up under your name, I thought it was better than doing it half-heartedly.”
“Right, how touching. I could almost cry. From now on, pull an all-nighter and come in tomorrow.”
“No, sir. I’ll manage my time better.”
Seheon shook his head as if he had lost, and didn’t blame Yunsin further. He uncrossed his arms and reached one hand behind him. Picking up the envelope he had set down, he tossed it toward Yunsin. Yunsin caught it reflexively, bewilderment flickering across his face.
“What is this?”
“Your case.”
“Hah. You’re giving me a case?”
Heavy sensations like trust were not built overnight by deciding to believe; they were woven slowly and deliberately, like fabric on a loom. And now, they were placing the first warp and weft upon the loom and beginning to weave the cloth.
It was a very small change, but Yunsin was fully satisfied. Thanks to that, his pale face was openly bright with joy. As if to prove it, a rosy flush even crept up both his cheeks.
Seheon watched Yunsin, who stood at the crossroads of dream and reality, with a fixed gaze; his own cheek twitched faintly. Soon after, he pressed his lower lip firmly. Surprisingly, he looked somewhat psychologically cornered.
Whether aware of this reaction or not, Yunsin pulled out the papers inside the envelope. He skimmed through the contents of the case roughly. The moment he suddenly raised his head, their eyes met head-on. Unexpectedly, Seheon was the first to look away. It was the first time that had happened.
“Chief?”
“It’s pro bono. You handle it.”
“Really, I can take this?”
“You’ve done several pro bono cases since coming here. You have two ongoing ones right now. What’s with the fuss.”
“Until now, they were just cases the firm passed around. This is pro bono that you personally gave me. I’ll do my absolute best without letting anyone interfere.”
Seheon, who had been furrowing his brow as if displeased, suddenly brought up something as if he had just remembered.
“Since we’re on the subject, return the two pro bono cases passed to you from other teams back to their respective teams. From now on, listen only to my orders and take only what I give you. You’re on my team. You can’t be reassigned without my permission.”
Having said all he needed to say, Seheon stood up from the desk and straightened himself. Then he coldly brushed past Yunsin, who was looking at him like a baby bird. Seeing the conversation about to be cut off one-sidedly, the inwardly flustered Yunsin instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm with a snap. The skin of an unfamiliar palm touched the hard, firm wrist with protruding bones. At that moment, Seheon whipped his head around.
The gaze looking down at the seized wrist was quite edgy.
Startled, Yunsin withdrew his hand and bowed.
“I’m sorry. You told me not to touch you.”
Seheon used his large hand to lightly brush over the spot on his opposite wrist where he had been grabbed, as if wiping it away, and replied.
“Any questions? I have to get to the meeting. Ask within 30 seconds.”
“Um, Attorney Gang.”
“25 seconds.”
“It hasn’t even been five seconds yet.”
“10 seconds.”
He definitely had something he wanted to say, but as Seheon kept arbitrarily cutting the numbers down, Yunsin grew anxious for no reason and couldn’t think of anything. His lips twitching, Yunsin slowly opened his mouth. The moment he cautiously raised his gaze, he realized Seheon’s sharp eyes were watching him carefully. But for some reason, it felt like the end of that gaze was not on his eyes, but on his lips.
Was it just his imagination?
It was definitely his imagination.
“That’s…”
It didn’t feel like his imagination.
“Time’s up.”
“Hasn’t it been less than 30 seconds?”
“Is that your question? It’s over, just now.”
He glanced at his watch and jerked his chin toward it, then strode out of the room with his long legs, unhesitating.
Slam. The door closed.
In a situation turned upside down, where the host had disappeared in an instant and only the guest remained, Yunsin tried hard to organize his thoughts. It was a fleeting thought about the desire to observe this place a little more, to observe him a little more.
About two months ago, when he had first come here and waited for Seheon, he had been too nervous to look closely. Now that a similar situation of being alone in the same spot repeated itself, he recalled *Great Expectations* that he had seen on his desk that day. An inexplicable urge rose in him to check whether Seheon had really reread that book because of him.
‘What should I do.’
Peeking furtively through the window at the secretarial office, Yunsin felt as if he had received some tacit approval. Secretary Tak, the office manager, and the auxiliary staff were all away from their desks, probably due to meeting preparations. Hugging the file close to his chest earnestly, Yunsin glanced over Seheon’s desk. But on it were only two laptops and several volumes of case law; the book was not there.
‘Well, no matter how busy he was, two months would have been more than enough to finish it in spare moments.’
Feeling needlessly disappointed and turning around, Yunsin’s eyes caught *Great Expectations* tucked into the bookshelf. As if entranced, he approached it, took out the first volume of the two, and opened it. Seheon seemed to be the type to read books cleanly; there were no underlined passages or index stickers pasted anywhere inside. Swallowing his disappointment, he was just about to put the book back.
Twitch. A very thin, long bookmark made of a golden line was caught under the book. Pulling it up and opening to the corresponding page, a familiar passage filled Yunsin’s sight.
“How dreadful it would be to look up at the countless stars twinkling in the night sky and freeze to death without finding any hand of help or sympathy.”
It was the quote he had used in court.
Looking at it, his face suddenly grew warm. Pressing his cheek with the back of his hand, Yunsin quickly returned the book and fled the office as if escaping. Entering his own room across the hall, he firmly locked the door and pulled down the window blinds, which he had not once lowered since coming here.
Only after being completely cut off from the outside world could he lean against the wall and catch his breath.
It could truly be a coincidence, but if so, everything surrounding this situation was too convincing. It was merely a very famous book written by a great author, and it might not hold any grand significance. But somehow, it felt as though it had made him—who was buried in work every day with not even a moment to spare—do something, and that left him feeling slightly strange.
Instinctively recalling the moment just now when Seheon’s gaze had precisely touched his lips, Yunsin bit his lips shut tight.
“Why on earth…”
Why do I feel as embarrassed as if my secret has been discovered?
The only place I touched Gang Seheon just now was his wrist, yet it feels as though we kissed.
Letting out a long breath mixed with a hint of helplessness, he swallowed dryly.