Chapter 28
When I pressed the call button on the table kiosk, instead of a part-timer, the owner came over.
Even though there weren’t any other customers, he glanced around carefully and discreetly placed a USB on the table.
“Hurry up and put it in. And don’t tell anyone else. You’re not supposed to do this in the first place.”
I nodded at the owner, who was clearing his throat as if expecting credit.
‘Since I might have to come back for work, it’s best not to cause any awkwardness.’
“Thank you. But with meat this good, how can you not advertise? Instead of chatting, I should add two more portions of samgyeopsal.”
As soon as I ordered extra portions through the kiosk, the owner beamed from ear to ear.
“I’ve never seen someone so smooth. Sure, please spread the word. Our meat really is great. The seating’s just a bit… lacking.”
“The seating isn’t bad at all. These days people actually prefer hidden spots in alleys—it feels like finding a small, precious little restaurant of their own.”
“Oh? Really?”
I told him there were restaurants being promoted on Instagram and short-form videos as ‘my small, precious spot’. Most of them were paid ads, though.
The owner seemed to know a bit about marketing, but he looked shocked that promotion had become this aggressive.
“This isn’t the time for me to stand around. I should talk to an agency. Thanks.”
As he brightened up and was about to leave, I stopped him.
“Boss, can I take the soap-flower bouquet at the counter? You must’ve seen it on the CCTV footage—it’s evidence.”
“Oh, really? Ha-ha. I was going to throw it out anyway, so perfect timing. Take it when you go!”
Judging by his clueless look, he probably hadn’t watched the footage at all—too busy copying files.
But, being a businessman, he quickly hid his expression and disappeared into the kitchen.
After devouring four portions of samgyeopsal for an early lunch, I headed to the counter before leaving.
From a distance it wasn’t noticeable, but up close the soap-flower bouquet was caked with dark red stains and thick with dust.
‘Wow, this is bad. Can I even carry this by hand?’
It wasn’t just dirty—it looked grotesque.
It must have been a beautiful bouquet once, but now leaving it in the shop would give customers the impression not just that the place was unclean, but that it was unwelcoming.
‘Too unpleasant. I’ll have to buy a shopping bag from a convenience store and carry it in that.’
Sighing inwardly, I bowed to the part-timer who had kindly cut the meat earlier.
“Thanks for the meal.”
“Uh, excuse me!”
“…?”
Just as I stepped outside, the part-timer ran up and handed me a large paper bag.
“Lawyer, put it in here. Carrying that bouquet in your hand looks… well, you know.”
It wasn’t even his restaurant, but his professionalism was admirable.
Someone like him—so long as he didn’t insist that only his own values mattered—could survive in any field.
I thanked him, sealed the bouquet inside the bag, and handed him my business card.
“If you ever need anything, give me a call. I’ll give you a free consultation.”
“Free consultation? How much is it normally?”
“Consultation fee is 100,000 won for the day. VAT included.”
“Whoa. Isn’t that expensive?”
Even law undergrads might not understand actual practice.
In Seoul, a small to mid-sized law firm charges at least 150,000 won per hour, excluding VAT.
“Check for yourself when you ever need to hire a lawyer—then you’ll see if it’s expensive or cheap.”
First they’re shocked by the low consultation fee.
Then, twice as shocked by the skill.
I opened the office door and set the paper bag on the consultation table.
I didn’t want to take out the bouquet, but there was something I needed to check.
Bzzzz.
A call came in from Mrs. Oh at Yeji’s flower shop.
“Hello?”
—“Lawyer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
—“The test results came back for Yeji. It’s just a mild concussion. She briefly lost consciousness, but there was no brain damage. She’ll recover quickly.”
“You must have been terrified.”
—“Exactly. Thank goodness we went to the hospital. If not…”
She said Yeji would come back after finishing her IV drip.
“You did the right thing.”
—“By the way, no one stopped by the flower shop, did they? Maybe someone claiming to be Yeji’s dad’s relative?”
‘Didn’t I tell her earlier that Mr. Oh Yunsik had met his siblings at a restaurant? I definitely messaged her after talking to Yeji.’
It seemed she hadn’t read my message.
“Ma’am, I went out earlier because of the case. I sent you a KakaoTalk message—did you not get it?”
—“I saw it late. Blooming’s owner rushed to tell me you left our stall and took the subway.”
‘That Blooming owner is such a gossip.’
—“Then Yeji’s father called, so I wanted to check if anyone came by after you got back.”
“I just arrived, so I’m not sure.”
—“Alright then. I’ll come after Yeji’s IV is done, so don’t eat dinner alone. Wait for us.”
“Yes! I’ll be working anyway, so take your time.”
Click.
The clock showed 1:23 PM.
‘An IV takes at least an hour or two. She’ll be here before 5 at the latest.’
Since she might have dinner with me, I decided to draft the petition in the meantime.
I placed yesterday’s printed materials on my desk and turned on the power strip.
Though it was brand new, it emitted a faint buzzing noise. Annoying, but I turned on the computer anyway.
“First civil case since my time as a public defender.”
If it were another field, I’d need to study like crazy. But ordinary civil cases weren’t a burden.
Even though in Continet I handled criminal and corporate law, anyone who passed the bar exam could handle civil litigation.
Of course, a specialist in civil law would be sharper, but Mr. Oh Yunsik’s case didn’t require that level of expertise.
I entered my password, opened the complaint file, and began.
“Plaintiff: Oh Yunsik.”
Resident registration number, address…
Then, “Attorney Cha Dohyuk, representing the above plaintiff,” and my office address.
“Defendants: Oh Yunja, Oh Yunhye, Oh Yunbok, Oh Yuntaek…”
Since I didn’t know their ID numbers or addresses, I left those blank.
“Action to Declare Void the Land Compensation Agreement.”
The claim and grounds were the most critical part, so I wrote them carefully.
Civil suits, unlike criminal ones, weren’t about punishing someone through state power but about resolving private disputes—claims like “I can’t pay because…” or “I deserve payment because…”
Thus, how the lawyer framed the rights and legal relationships determined win or loss.
Of course, evidence presented in court was the deciding factor.
But since we already had evidence from the start, this case wouldn’t be as taxing as others.
Tap-tap-tap.
“Done! When Mrs. Oh comes, we’ll finalize it with her husband and file electronically.”
Electronic filing—civil cases are submitted through the Supreme Court’s online portal.
Criminal cases, in contrast, require submitting complaints at the police station in person or by mail.
‘This would’ve had more impact if tied with a criminal case too, but since a celebrity like Oh Yeji is involved, better to hold back.’
Anyway, I decided to deal with the buzzing sound first.
“What’s the problem?”
I tried rebooting, plugging the strip into another socket—still buzzing.
‘Wait.’
I suddenly remembered something I’d bought during my last mission.
Well, technically I’d only added it to reach the free shipping threshold.
‘It was useful in Continet, but I didn’t think I’d use it here.’
Still, you never know. Maybe it would help.
‘Since I’ve left the office open sometimes, someone could’ve hidden a spy cam or bug inside.’
I pulled out a high-performance bug detector from the drawer.
These days, such detectors could catch wiretaps, hidden cameras, GPS trackers, even jammers.
‘Not as professional as the one I used in Continet, but simple enough without a manual.’
I turned it on, switched it to silent lamp mode, and activated the laser detection for cameras.
Honestly, who would hide a spy cam in such a tiny office?
‘But crazy things happen in this world. Better to check and be at ease.’
I swept every corner, but nothing came up.
‘So I imagined it? No way.’
I didn’t want to dismiss it as a hallucination—the buzzing had never happened before.
Corporate espionage in Continet wasn’t always limited to computers, after all.
I switched to bug-detection mode.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash!
The detector’s screen lit up, indicating a signal.
“…!”
‘Where?’
Standing in the middle of the office, I slowly moved it side to side.
‘Not the bookshelf. Not the cabinet.’
‘Not the desk either.’
I turned toward the consultation table.
‘…Why is it reacting so strongly there?’
‘The soap-flower bouquet—was the dark red paint used to hide a bug inside?’
I brought the detector close, and sure enough, the reaction grew intense.
What was so important about Oh Yunsik’s land that they went this far?
‘The bouquet was at the place where he signed the agreement. What exactly are they after?’
Maybe they didn’t care about legality—maybe to them, money outweighed laws.
After all, even the compensation agreement itself had been unlawful.
Creak.
“Welcome.”
“It’s me, lawyer.”
The one opening the office door was Mrs. Oh from Yeji’s flower shop.
“Phew, I’m exhausted. You haven’t had dinner yet, right?”
“No. But you’re here earlier than I expected?”
“I would’ve stayed until the IV was done, but Yeji’s manager insisted. The hospital was too open—he pushed for discharge.”
‘Right, she was treated in the ER at a Gangnam university hospital.’
For idols, just the news of going to the ER could spark controversy about overwork, so the agency must’ve been eager to avoid that.
“She’ll probably continue the IV at a partner hospital or rest at the dorm.”
“Yeah, the manager said they were moving her to an affiliated hospital.”
She gave a bitter smile, clearly pained about her daughter leaving before finishing treatment.
“But lawyer, what’s that in your hand?”
“This? Something I bought for the office renovation. Does it look strange?”
Then I raised my finger to my lips.
Shhh.
