Chapter 120…
I waved silently at Choi Gun-ha being dragged out by the court officer.
“Mocking the court!”
Judge Myung Jae-wook huffed, saying this was an act of disregarding the Constitution of the Republic of Korea.
Zap!
‘Am I supposed to leave too?’
Not happening.
Thud.
I immediately dropped to my knees.
“……?”
“……?”
Their gazes were sharp, but I stayed still without saying a word.
“Attorney Cha Do-hyuk, what are you doing right now?”
Judge Myung Jae-wook tapped his pen on the bench, giving me a look that said, Do you even have pride?
Of course I have pride. But for a lawyer, nothing is more important than securing the client’s victory.
‘A lawyer who has learned enough doesn’t make weird arguments for no reason.’
They prioritize the client above all else, using every means and even illegal methods to gift an acquittal.
I, however, prioritize the client only as long as the client doesn’t dismiss the lawyer’s efforts.
‘If it’s the right timing to benefit the plaintiff, a simple kneel is nothing.’
It was no big deal.
“…Ah, Your Honor, thanks to you, the constitutional order seems restored. I dared to look up in reverence.”
I spoke with solemnity, as if facing a deity.
“…….”
“…….”
Judge Myung Jae-wook might have been momentarily flustered, but he couldn’t have been happier.
“Ahem.”
Voices in the gallery muttered, “Do all lawyers act like that?” “Is he crazy?” but I didn’t care.
The important thing: not getting ejected from the courtroom while defending my client!
Perhaps sensing this, writer Lim Seung-chan covered his mouth.
One of the remaining defense attorneys for Choi Gun-ha raised a hand.
“Respected Judge, it is true the defendant made statements close to contempt of court, but please consider that these were provoked by the plaintiff’s attorney.”
Judge Myung alternated his gaze between me and the defense attorney.
‘I knelt but didn’t speak until spoken to. He spoke first.’
There were three lawyers present.
“Defendant! Have you forgotten that I told you not to speak until I ask?”
“No, but does that mean we should just stand by while the client is held in contempt?”
“Those were statements that undermined the dignity of the court! If you continue to respond emotionally, I will order your removal too. Officer!”
“Hah! Judge Myung Jae-wook, I’m seven years senior to you in the bar. Do you show this behavior?”
“Officer!”
“Enough. I’ll leave on my own.”
The officer escorted the lawyer out. From the bench came a petty remark: “If you’re going to boast about seniority, become a Supreme Court Justice.”
He told me to stand, so I brushed off my knees and sat back down.
Scritch-scratch.
Writer Lim Seung-chan began jotting notes on a piece of paper.
-
Is the courtroom normally this… dynamic?
Surprisingly, six out of ten times, yes.
From minors claiming divine intervention to avoid responsibility for assault, to fraudsters blaming their childhood siblings for crimes, to clients threatening judges with casual familiarity… many clients had passed through.
‘Some had sad stories, but there were plenty of utter scumbags too.’
I pressed down my throbbing head and picked up my pen.
-
You can see all of life. The final destination is the courthouse.
Lim Seung-chan seemed to have a deep realization, clenching his fist before suddenly grimacing.
His color drained, and even if he were terminally ill, there’d be nothing to say.
‘He could rest in the infirmary.’
I had no idea why he was agonizing in court over that idea. Nowadays, many courtroom videos are on NewTube.
When I suggested asking the judge for a recess, Lim shook his head.
-
He even knelt… we can’t just summon him.
This client was stubborn enough to make me sigh inwardly.
Meanwhile, Judge Myung Jae-wook asked the defense to present arguments rather than seeking additional statements from the plaintiff.
“Defendant Choi Gun-ha had the idea of waging war with money even before meeting plaintiff Lim Seung-chan at the creative camp.”
“When was that?”
“June 2, 2014. Please refer to Exhibit No. 2, the creative notebook.”
Suddenly, Myung Jae-wook’s indifferent face brightened.
“Plaintiff, do you wish to object?”
“If given the chance, yes.”
“Then, briefly.”
“Yes.”
Now I understood the Myung Jae-wook user manual.
Step 1: Praise Myung Jae-wook (not really). Step 2: Wait until he asks. That’s it.
‘No wonder other lawyers kept quiet around him. Pride, after all.’
But not me. As a lawyer, I secure victory even in a mess.
“The defendant’s creative notes claim that after visiting Busan Beomnaegol House on June 2, 2014, inspiration was taken for writing.”
But that was fabricated evidence for court purposes.
“The Busan Beomnaegol House opened on May 1, 2016.”
“……!”
“The plaintiff visited the Beomnaegol House during the 21st Busan International Film Festival in 2016, and gained ideas for the script’s 70s–80s interior from the owner.”
So why was Choi Gun-ha’s story similar? Writer Lim told that story while explaining the scene.
Not only that.
‘The shop interior in Choi Gun-ha’s work was industrial-style.’
Why the change? Turns out he visited a different branch and copy-pasted it.
“The defendant visited the Seoul branch of Beomnaegol House with the plaintiff on August 13, 2019. Photos of them together are submitted as Exhibit No. 7.”
Stealing someone else’s memory and claiming it as your own doesn’t make it experience.
“Objection! The Beomnaegol House in the defendant’s notes refers to the Seoul branch.”
“Then it’s all the more reason to submit it as evidence.”
“……?”
“August 1, 2021. The Seoul branch of Beomnaegol House opened that day. It was also the expiration date of the contract between plaintiff and defendant.”
What a scumbag. On the contract expiration day, he called Lim Seung-chan and changed the scene’s interior.
‘The location in the script was changed to Incheon, though.’
Not surprisingly, the defense attorney went silent.
“Plaintiff.”
Judge Myung summoned Lim Seung-chan.
“Do you have proof of visiting Busan Beomnaegol House?”
“I posted photos on my blog at the time.”
Lim glanced briefly.
“I submitted printed proof of the blog address and timestamp as Exhibit No. 6.”
Imitating that? Lim Seung-chan was quite an interesting person.
Judge Myung found it amusing too and immediately accepted it as evidence.
“Has plaintiff’s witness Na Min-young appeared?”
The feared situation approached.
“The witness did not appear.”
“…Without prior written explanation, for no reason?”
Seeing the veins on Myung Jae-wook’s forehead, it was a crisis.
“He informed us en route that he had a traffic accident.”
“A traffic accident in the middle of Seoul?”
Myung’s lips trembled in disbelief.
“If medical records and proof of the accident aren’t submitted, a 500,000 KRW fine will be imposed.”
Witnesses must submit reasons in advance if absent. Naturally.
“Also, evidence related to this witness will not be accepted at this time.”
‘Even if the witness is absent, refusing to set a future date or accept evidence… that’s absurd abuse of power.’
Still, the flow remained favorable.
Other evidence clearly showed Choi Gun-ha’s copyright infringement.
Even if Myung accepted bribes from Sangil Construction to favor Choi Gun-ha, the most it could do was reduce joint credits or compensation.
‘If the ruling says no infringement, second trial it is.’
Then, presenting the secret contract between Choi Gun-ha and Madphil as additional evidence would do it.
If the second trial wasn’t scheduled within the week, the system would fail, and even mother’s retrial might reset.
‘Kim Soo-sung already tossed the secret contract this morning. What’s he doing?’
At that moment, writer Lim Seung-chan collapsed.
“Writer?!”
“What? What happened?”
I checked his bag but couldn’t find his long-term medication. There was a medical card, perhaps anticipating such an event.
“Officer! Contact the medical team immediately!”
“Yes!”
The officer called in the court medics, who arrived shortly.
“Let’s check his condition. Can you hear me?”
“…….”
“Is there a guardian?”
The Momo Publishing CEO, pacing in the gallery, came forward.
“I’m the patient’s publishing company president.”
“And I’m the patient’s lawyer.”
“Does the patient have any chronic illness or regular medications?”
“I heard it’s a rare disease.”
“…A rare disease?”
“Yes, details are on this card.”
Medical staff read it solemnly.
“We’ll transfer him to a nearby university hospital. Everyone, please step back.”
“Just two steps back, please!”
The officer cleared a path for the stretcher.
“Only one of you can ride in the ambulance. Follow me if you’re going.”
“Attorney Cha, you stay in court. I’ll follow the writer.”
“…Please contact me if anything happens.”
“Nothing serious will happen.”
After Lim Seung-chan left, the remaining people murmured.
“What on earth just happened?”
“Is today the last day? Everyone disappearing.”
Such things sometimes happened in court: being held in contempt, scuffles, or collapses.
Meanwhile…
‘What will Myung Jae-wook do?’
Procedurally, having an attorney mitigates the problem, but when someone collapses, usually a future date is set.
A kind of humane approach (as recorded).
But the judge was Myung Jae-wook.
A madman who hands down same-day rulings without hesitation.
Startled, Myung plopped back into his chair.
“Are all writers like this? Showing such disrespect for the court.”
Grumbling, he called:
“Recess!”
The defense attorneys and Madphil CEO Lee Je-min gathered for a meeting.
I stepped into the hallway, exhaling in relief.
I messaged the Momo Publishing CEO to confirm safe arrival. No reply.
“Hope nothing serious happens.”
Buzz. A news app notification popped up—an awaited breaking news.
‘Kim Soo-sung finally did it.’
The morning pressure on Kim Soo-sung paid off.
If Sangil Construction was raided, today releasing the secret contract and securing the ruling was ideal.
“I need to adjust the litigation strategy a bit.”
As I was about to reenter the courtroom, someone called from behind.
“Attorney Cha!”
It was Na Min-young with her leg in a cast.
“Attorney, I’m really sorry.”
“No, why are you here with your leg like that?”
“I had to. I promised to testify.”
Oh dear, she should rest if in pain.
“Right, not the time for this. Here.”
She handed me a large envelope.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know. Someone just told me to give it to you on the way to court.”
“To me?”
I opened it.
Inside was the secret contract between Choi Gun-ha and Madphil.
‘Seems like a different person than the one who emailed it.’
“What did they look like?”
“Tall, pretty, somewhat androgynous, like a movie actor.”
Not a Madphil employee. Only two women were in the company I knew: the receptionist and a PR assistant.
“Anything else unusual?”
“They had some kind of access badge.”
‘Access badge?’
“Oh! They said to inform that there would soon be breaking news about the early morning raid on Sangil Construction.”
If they knew in advance, they must be from the legal field.
‘Who could it be?’
“Na Min-young, go in and rest. I’ll handle it.”
First, secure the victory.
