The Gallery’s Hidden Footage
I forced down my irritation and stared at the warning on the system screen.
Warning: Overuse of ability! Rank B or higher recommended!
If my rank had been higher, maybe it would have been fine.
As things stood, the workshop was out of the question.
Half the time I couldn’t use the ability properly anyway, and even when I could, objects only held steady for a few seconds. A place would be even harder.
Then that would have to be it for today.
I had solved cases just fine even before I knew anything about psychometry.
I went into the workshop and turned on my smartphone camera.
“I should turn on the flash.”
Even though it was daytime, the room was fairly dark, so I had no choice.
I took photos and videos.
Then I checked once more to make sure I hadn’t missed anything before stepping out into the living room.
When the laptop let out a faint beep, Sim Oh-han rebooted it after the error popped up.
“Ahem. It’s an old laptop.”
“It’s fine. Take your time.”
Again, it went whirrr, buzzzz, beep.
“……”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“Y-yes.”
The living room was filled only with the sound of booting up.
After repeating the on-and-off cycle several times, Sim Oh-han finally spoke.
“This might be rude to say to your face, but I don’t like lawyers.”
“I see.”
“How should I put it? They feel like a profession that feeds on other people’s misfortune. I got stabbed in the back once, so… yeah, that’s how I ended up feeling.”
Being screwed over by the wrong lawyer could easily leave someone with a deep-seated prejudice.
Still, the fact that he’d considered hiring court-appointed counsel during the first trial meant he drew a line between personal feelings and business.
Not to mention he’d come to me for help in the first place.
And honestly, I could sympathize with him.
According to Article 1, Paragraph 1 of the Attorney-at-Law Act, lawyers were supposed to uphold basic human rights and realize social justice. But I had seen enough people who weren’t fit to wear the title.
Just like that bastard lawyer, Guk.
“I agree with you, Sim Oh-han. A lawyer can be seen as a profession that feeds on another person’s illegal or unlawful acts.”
“...Pardon?”
“Why are you so surprised?”
“No, I mean, you just insulted your own profession.”
“That’s one way to look at it. If you want to put it kindly, it’s a double-edged livelihood that pursues private gain alongside the public good. Isn’t it practically made to be looked down on?”
“……”
“And even the goddess of justice, Dike, is full of contradictions.”
It was almost laughable that the reason her eyes were covered—the eyes of a god who was supposed to judge fairly—was supposedly because she feared human reason being reflected in her verdicts.
“Ahem, it’s on. Take a look.”
Sim Oh-han opened the evidence file and turned the laptop screen toward me.
“Then let’s start with the records.”
“Yes!”
As I sorted through the files he had gathered, I remembered the work I used to do in the corporate legal team.
“By the way, Sim Oh-han. Are you an attention-seeker?”
“...Pardon?”
“You should do a little attention-seeking.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After filing the appointment notice with the court along with the appeal, I applied to review and copy the case records, including Sim Oh-han’s statements and the on-site investigation report.
That was basic work for a lawyer.
Since I’d have to wait two or three days for the first-trial hearing footage until the assigned court approved it.
In the meantime, I could gather other evidence and draft a written opinion.
There had been all kinds of opinions written at Continent Law Firm, but in Sim Oh-han’s case, this meant a statement that defended the client’s position in court and persuaded the judge.
In short, it was a concise written submission to the court laying out the defendant’s side of the case. (And you could submit updated versions during the trial as needed.)
“Let’s see. The next thing I need to do is…”
I turned on my phone and opened the memo app.
The Art of Money, Defendant Sim Oh-han Case.
January 20-30. Seoul Emerging Artists Exhibition, hosted by Seoul Metropolitan Government, works displayed at Suryun Gallery.
— Request CCTV review. Must!
January 25. Commission received.
January 26. Meeting at workshop.
— Work notebook evidence must be submitted.
July 10. Deadline. Work delivered.
July 20. Suspect interrogation statement prepared.
— There probably won’t be a recording, but request it anyway.
August 18. First hearing date of the first trial.
— Request preservation of evidence related to the case.
... omitted
August 25. First-trial judgment served.
— Appeal filed within 7 days; written opinion submitted by August 31.
— Request for review and copy of case records complete.
— Additional evidence?
For a poorly planned frame-up like this, it wasn’t any harder than the petty cases I’d handled at Continent.
“I should start by requesting the CCTV.”
I wolfed down a bowl of udon for a rather late lunch.
“Now, let’s go see if I can work a little magic.”
I got off at Jongno 3-ga Station on Seoul Subway Line 1.
Passing Tapgol Park, that earthly paradise of the elderly, I headed toward the Insadong Culture Street lined with galleries.
“Phew. I’m not late.”
The opening hours of Suryun Gallery in Insadong had already ended, but I opened the door and went inside anyway.
Sim Oh-han said his work was on the left side of the gallery entrance.
I glanced up at the ceiling where the CCTV was mounted.
“Hmm.”
Under the soft lighting, someone was checking the condition of the artwork.
I walked toward the woman in the two-piece suit.
Step by step.
She turned her head and met my eyes.
“Visiting hours are over. Please come back tomorrow between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m.”
“I’m not here as a visitor. I came to see the director.”
“I’m sorry. Would you follow me?”
She quickly removed her gloves, left the exhibition hall, and led me into a space with an opaque ornamental wall.
“Are you the gallery’s full-time curator?”
“Yes.”
Had she been here back in January, when Sim Oh-han said he delivered the piece?
“You look quite young to already be full-time. You must have a sharp eye for art.”
“Aren’t they all more or less the same?”
“Is that so? By the way, how long have you been at Suryun Gallery? I come here sometimes, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.”
I hadn’t actually been here before, but if I was going to ask for the director’s office, I needed to make it sound like I had some history here.
“I’ve been here about two years. I don’t stay in the exhibition hall during the day, so that’s probably why.”
“I see.”
Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the director’s office.
Knock, knock.
The curator tapped on the opaque glass door.
“Director, you have a visitor.”
“...A visitor? All right.”
The curator folded her hands politely.
“What kind of refreshments and tea would you like prepared?”
“No, thank you. I’ll only be having a brief chat with the director.”
“Understood.”
The door to the director’s office opened, and I stepped inside.
It was a space decorated with objects, the kind you’d expect from someone in the arts.
A single director sat in front of a monitor.
Her skin was polished, and glossy hair fell over her shoulders.
Maybe she was in her late thirties.
No, judging by the wrinkles on her hands, she was more likely in her forties.
She rose from her seat.
Rather than answering the puzzled look in her eyes, I took a seat on the sofa.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I waited casually until she sat down across from me.
“I’m sorry, but who are you? Did someone refer you?”
“Nice to meet you. I’m attorney Cha Do-hyuk.”
I took out my business card case from the inside pocket of my jacket.
The director took my card and checked both sides.
“What brings you here, Attorney Cha? If this is about a work sale, you can speak with the curator. Did she perhaps make you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. I came because of the Seoul Emerging Artists group exhibition held in mid-January this year.”
“Mid-January? That was quite a while ago. What is this about?”
She looked completely baffled.
Looks like the police or the prosecution never contacted her.
That was actually ideal.
“Do you remember the artist Sim Oh-han, who called you?”
“Sim Oh-han? Sim Oh-han, Sim Oh-han… Hmm. It’s a bit hazy.”
Her fingers tapped intermittently against her forearm.
He said he had asked about it, but she doesn’t remember? Then I suppose I’ll have to open the conversation myself.
“I was told you requested to see the CCTV footage from that time regarding the piece called The Art of Money.”
“Ah. Ah, the call.”
“Yes, that’s right. If possible, may I request a copy of the CCTV footage around Sim Oh-han’s piece?”
“No.”
The director folded her arms, looking annoyed.
“Why should I show you the CCTV? Unfortunately, who came and when is highly private information, so that’s difficult.”
How quaint.
I’d briefly forgotten that people cared most about their own safety.
With a snort, I said, “Isn’t it a bit of a stretch to call Suryun Gallery private when all it does is lease out space under the sponsorship of Seoul Metropolitan Government?”
“...A stretch? Visitor information could be leaked.”
“I’m not asking for the entire original footage. Just a copy of part of it. The video showing only the defendant’s artwork.”
“I said no.”
“From what I saw earlier, it’s on the far left side of the gallery. One CCTV camera aimed at Sim Oh-han’s piece should be enough. Why shouldn’t that work? If this goes well, Director, you could gain quite a bit.”
“What do you mean by that?”
I needed to speak to her calmly.
Even a little arrogantly.
“Sim Oh-han’s work isn’t bad. And I’m sure you know there’s already talk about it in the minor art communities.”
“I heard he was sentenced in the first trial for counterfeiting currency. That would only make people talk even more.”
So she knew.
And yet she was pretending she didn’t?
That meant this was already a fight I was winning.
“What if Sim Oh-han is found not guilty because of a copy of Suryun Gallery’s CCTV footage? People will ask how he managed to depict banknotes that well. Wouldn’t they contact Suryun Gallery to see if the artist has other works?”
“......!”
“And if the story is woven together with the fact that Suryun Gallery held onto such a crucial clue from the case, the benefit from next year’s Seoul Emerging Artists Exhibition could expand even more.”
The gallery that helped launch a star might see its own status rise even higher.
Even after I’d said all that, if she was still a hopelessly rigid woman, there’d be no saving this.
“Still, if you think granting this would violate the gallery’s policy, I’ll take my leave.”
“...What?”
I stood up and looked down at the director.
“I can just request the video that Seoul Metropolitan Government recorded.”