Chapter 118
Wednesday, December 11
“Is it because of the mission?”
Madphil and Choi Gun-ha submitted their responses early, and the hearing for writer Im Seung-chan was set for December 16.
The Seoul Central District Court’s winter recess runs from December 23 to January 3.
I had thought that if the response dragged on, the mission would automatically fail, so I was extremely relieved.
“I also submitted the rebuttal brief.”
Now I had to calculate how much compensation could be claimed for copyright infringement. But then…
Tap, tap.
“Only three people handle copyright, and it’s the notorious Civil Division 8-1.”
Nothing ever goes easy, really.
Monday, December 16
As usual, I turned off the alarm and checked my emails as soon as I woke up.
Among the emails asking if free legal consultations were available, one caught my eye: [Reporting Madphil Film Company.]
‘It’s not like word got out that I’m handling the Madphil lawsuit.’
Hiding my curiosity, I opened the email.
[I am an employee of Madphil.]
The anonymous employee began by saying they had briefly worked as a screenwriter and knew a writer friend who had suffered at the hands of Choi Gun-ha. They said they learned about Im Seung-chan’s case at work and decided to courageously report this so Choi Gun-ha’s misconduct would no longer occur in the film industry.
“So, an employee who can whistleblow on Madphil and Choi Gun-ha?”
It had to be the producer, accountant, legal staff, or the team leader/employee who informed writer Im Seung-chan in the restroom about plagiarism.
‘One of them had experience as a screenwriter?’
The tip didn’t specify who it was or what the details were—slightly unhelpful.
“Seems like they want me to check the attached file rather than just read about it.”
The filename started with 20201212, likely the date, followed by an irregular string of characters.
“Since it’s a tip, I’ll download it.”
To avoid any possible viruses, I downloaded it on an old laptop.
It was a contract between Madphil and Choi Gun-ha, the content of which I hadn’t expected.
“…I’ll have to print this.”
I was glad to print it before heading to court, and I started thinking about how to present it. Then I remembered the presiding judge.
“Will Judge Myung Jae-wook accept evidence on the day itself?”
Myung Jae-wook, who ruled like an absolute monarch, was infamous at the Bar Association.
When he was in the Suwon District Court criminal division, he was notorious for absurd statements like telling a victim’s crying mother in the gallery, “Stop crying in court, or the perpetrator will be acquitted,” and commenting on personal matters of young victims in grotesque ways.
In any courtroom, if he was displeased, he would skip witnesses or settlements and issue immediate or unreasonable judgments.
So this was concerning.
‘If I submit the statement and evidence properly, it should be fine…’
I fiddled with the printed contract.
“If he won’t accept it, I’ll make him.”
I sent a reminder to Kim Soo-sung about Sangil Construction and prepared to head to court.
Seoul Central District Court, Annex 1, Room 304
‘Writer Im Seung-chan said he’d go in first.’
I usually coordinate with the client outside before entering, but at Im Seung-chan’s request, we decided to meet in court.
I considered asking if he was feeling unwell, but since he had mentioned a rare disease, I thought it would be impolite and quickly moved on. As expected, Im Seung-chan, pale as ever, was slouched in the plaintiff’s seat.
“Writer Im Seung-chan, are you okay?”
“Ah, Lawyer Cha.”
A subtle twitch appeared in his usually uncooperative eye—a precursor to something worse.
“I came up quickly from Jeju, so I’m a bit off. I’ll be fine in a while.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“But I need to see Choi Gun-ha’s face.”
Smiling, Im Seung-chan straightened up.
“Why not stop by the infirmary for a moment?”
“If I go, the hearing might finish without me.”
‘True.’
“Where else in life do I get these big events? It’s all experience, all material for writing.”
‘…That’s the key.’
I told him to speak up if he felt worse, then took my seat as his attorney.
“Choi Gun-ha is here? And is that Madphil’s CEO Lee Jae-min beside him?”
“…….”
Both Choi Gun-ha and CEO Lee sat down with their lawyers.
We exchanged silent glances.
‘Lawyer Cha, it’s 1 o’clock.’
‘…Yes, it will start soon.’
The witness examination was supposed to happen today, but mediator Na Min-young hadn’t arrived yet.
‘I hope she at least texts.’
Just as I thought this, Na Min-young’s text arrived. Before I could reply…
Bang.
The court officer announced the session.
“The trial will begin. Everyone in the courtroom must turn off their smartphones and remain silent.”
The judge, Myung Jae-wook, entered without greeting and took the microphone.
“Before starting the Civil Division 8-1 session of the Seoul Central District Court, everyone present must comply.”
‘I thought it would start smoothly even without greetings.’
“I have received all briefs and responses. Just answer questions.”
When murmurs arose in the gallery, Judge Myung frowned.
“From now, no sounds. No sighs. No groans. This is an order, not a request. Violators will be detained. Applies to all, including attorneys.”
Someone muttered, “Is this guy crazy?”
With a nod from the judge, the court officer immediately removed the person.
“What the hell is this guy even judging?! Can’t believe this!”
“Quiet, please.”
Bang.
“I won’t repeat myself.”
Everyone went silent.
I expected Judge Myung to dominate the courtroom, but he exceeded even that expectation.
‘Im Seung-chan must be shocked!’
I glanced at him. His lips were dry, but his eyes sparkled as if discovering a good character.
I nudged him gently.
‘Writer Im Seung-chan, this is unusual. Judge Myung is famously eccentric.’
‘Yes, totally great.’
He didn’t hear me, of course—it was his trial.
“Case number 2024-Gadan 3021, confirm attendance of parties.”
He confirmed the plaintiff, Im Seung-chan’s attendance.
“Is the plaintiff’s attorney present?”
“Yes, attorney Cha Do-hyuk representing the plaintiff.”
He asked about the defendant and their attorney, then reviewed the documents.
“Plaintiff has submitted a statement.”
“Yes.”
“Defendant as well?”
“Yes.”
“Plaintiff, begin your statement regarding copyright infringement.”
Plagiarism and copyright infringement.
The public thinks plagiarism is just “Did you copy?”
But copyright is different.
Plagiarism is abstract and vague. (Academic works have strict criteria, but popular literature and arts do not.)
Also, there’s no separate remedy procedure.
‘That’s why you register copyright to protect your work.’
Criminal punishment is possible, and damages can be recovered in civil court.
There are three requirements for copyright infringement:
-
The claimant must hold valid copyright.
‘Im Seung-chan registered his copyright in advance.’
-
The infringer must have “recognized and used” the work.
‘Director Choi Gun-ha knew Im Seung-chan’s work and created “Money War.”’
Just similarity alone doesn’t prove infringement.
-
The infringer’s work must be evaluated as unfairly using another’s work, showing substantial similarity quantitatively or qualitatively.
‘Im Seung-chan contracted with Madphil during the relevant period, and the film’s script is almost copy-pasted, proving unfair use.’
Even the 2002Gahap4017 verdict recognized this.
-
Similarity of script.
Im Seung-chan’s script was used almost as-is. -
Same broadcasting station.
Choi Gun-ha had access through Madphil, satisfying “accessibility” under Copyright Act Articles 93(1,2).
‘Even if Choi Gun-ha tried to push with minor edits and ideas, the court rarely accepts more than 20% similarity.’
This case is practically a sure win—unless Choi Gun-ha somehow wins over Judge Myung.
“Statement begins.”
Plaintiff Im Seung-chan met defendant Choi Gun-ha at the Yeonhap Film Company’s creative camp on July 20, 2018.
Choi Gun-ha saw Im Seung-chan’s work Jack in the Money Box (“Jack”) and offered a contract through his studio, Ruin. After the camp, a writing contract for film adaptation was signed.
‘It was only a 30 million KRW contract, with 5 million upfront, then per-episode payments.’
“However, the film wasn’t made during the contract period, and the contract expired.”
The plaintiff approached other studios with the script.
“Meanwhile, Madphil noticed that Choi Gun-ha’s ongoing film Money War was similar to the plaintiff’s script.”
The key point:
“Defendant Choi Gun-ha was previously CEO of Ruin Film, which held the plaintiff’s script, and on December 12, 2020, during the contract period with the plaintiff, signed a new script contract with Madphil.”
“……?!”
‘You thought I wouldn’t know?’
“Plaintiff Im Seung-chan judged that Choi Gun-ha infringed his copyright and requested Madphil to credit him solely for Money War, but this was refused.”
The refusal was for joint credit.
“Thus, seeking damages.”
“That’s enough.”
Before I could state the claim for 100 million KRW each for the contract and compensation, Judge Myung cut me off.
“The plaintiff handled this poorly, no need to hear more.”
‘What era is this?’
I couldn’t believe a judge would wield power like this.
Hmph, this could work in our favor.
…Should I probe Choi Gun-ha a bit?
