Don't Make Too Many Enemies
Meanwhile, the US State Department was just as anxious.
They'd threatened visa restrictions and deportations, but as hardcore realists, even they weren't thrilled with how things were playing out.
South Korea was a strategic linchpin in East Asia.
The frontline ally checking China and Russia.
If this mess dragged on and actually cracked the US-Korea alliance? China and Russia would be the ones laughing.
That was America's worst nightmare.
The vibe in the White House was crystal clear: Give Korea a moderate spanking to rein them in, but don't break them entirely.
To pull that off, they needed a justification—and fast.
Just like the Korean government, America had its eyes locked on one person.
Kim Ji-hoon.
Only when he nodded in satisfaction could the US pretend to relent and lift the pressure.
"How's the situation in Korea?"
"The Blue House is sweating bullets, running around like mad. They've even mobilized the NIS for their own internal probe—it's done."
"Good."
The State Department officials sighed in relief at the CIA intel brief.
Word that the Korean government was frantically self-flagellating.
Results were coming soon.
Washington, D.C. watched Seoul's night with keen interest.
Right now, America was enforcing reciprocity.
The massive wave had swept past the executive branch, shifting the air in the judiciary too.
California Alameda County Superior Court.
It was the day of the ruling in Ji-su's lawsuit for "recognition and enforcement of foreign judgment."
Judge Anderson, seated at the bench, skimmed the additional evidence submitted by the defendant's lawyer, David.
His brow furrowed.
He adjusted his glasses and stared coldly at the plaintiff's counsel.
No arguments needed.
Everything was blatantly obvious.
Judge Anderson didn't read out the full ruling.
Instead, he enunciated the key phrases, letting them echo through the courtroom.
"Violation of public policy."
His opening line.
"A culpable spouse's attempt to seize the victim's assets blatantly contradicts California's sense of justice and morality."
"Clean hands doctrine. The plaintiff used malicious means to detain and threaten the defendant personally. Those seeking justice must come with clean hands. But the plaintiff's hands are filthy with greed and malice."
"Abuse of process. This isn't legitimate enforcement of property rights. It's harassment and retaliation exploiting the judicial system."
Bang!
The gavel slammed down.
"Permanently dismissed. The plaintiff's claims are fully denied."
A total rout.
Ji-su's lawyer hung his head; gasps rose from the gallery.
The US court had officially branded Kim Ji-su's actions as malicious.
Ring ring—
Korea, Ji-hoon's family home.
Ji-hoon was relaxing in the living room with Lily.
He picked up the phone, and David's excited voice burst through.
"Hoon! We won!"
"Results in?"
"Total victory. The judge was pissed."
David rattled off the details in high spirits.
"Your airport arrest was the knockout. Judge cited the 'clean hands' doctrine and tossed it."
"Nice work, David."
Ji-hoon chuckled and hung up.
Ji-su's last lifeline.
Her plan to claw half his assets through the US suit? Shattered.
Self-inflicted.
He gazed out the window.
Now Ji-su walked away with zero cash—and stuck footing her own lawyer bills.
Bankruptcy was her only horizon.
"One down."
Ji-hoon calmly awaited the next move.
Now it was the Korean government's turn to respond.
Truth be told, there was another real reason I'd flatly rejected the government's compensation offer.
Human psychology is a funny thing.
There's this famous balance game:
"Press this button, get 100 million won."
"But the person you hate most in the world gets 10 billion won."
"Would you press it?"
Most people pass.
It's not the 100 million they miss—it's the gut-wrenching sight of their enemy raking in 10 billion and living large.
Seeing your worst enemy thrive? Might as well die.
Better neither gets it and they crash too.
My situation was just like that.
220 million won to me now? After my US business exploded, pocket change.
I'd live fine without it.
But the amount didn't matter.
Even a single won going into that backstabber Ji-su's pocket? Over my dead body.
Taking the government payout and settling? That'd hand her a free pass.
I wasn't having it.
Chatting with David had confirmed it: The more I proved the Korean trial was tainted, the higher my US win odds skyrocketed.
Even back in the US, I'd lurked on stock forums, gathering intel.
In a way, they were my stellar informants.
I didn't even have to ask—the forum dwellers dug up Ji-su's dirt and served it on a platter.
Thanks to them, I could sit back while she played media victim in Korea.
The more she thrashed, the more evidence she piled up proving the trial's corruption.
Especially at the airport bust—I knew it.
This isn't solo work.
Orchestrating criminal complaints and media wars simultaneously? Impossible.
Someone was pulling strings.
The forum sages had sniffed it out already.
Author: Detective
I'd seen the whole thread.
The picture formed: How the game's rigged.
My hunch hit dead center.
"Hmm... You figured it out quick?"
Three days after chatting with Chief of Staff for State Affairs Park Jin-su.
Government reps showed up.
The annex at the family home, the guest pavilion for visitors.
I set down my teacup and flipped through the thick binder he'd handed over.
Flip, flip.
Only the rustle of pages filled the silent room.
The government official from the State Affairs Coordination Office across from me swallowed dryly, eyeing my face.
"......"
Bingo. Spot on.
It was all the Gender Ministry's scheme.
[Kim Ji-su Lawsuit Cost Support Records]
[Women's Victim Support Funds Disbursement Records]
Plausible on paper, but really just taxpayer cash plugging the hole from her failed grab at my money.
Unbelievable.
Wasting public funds like this.
But flipping further, a weird entry caught my eye.
"What's this? Pressure on broadcasters?"
The man flushed, embarrassed.
"Ah... That's evidence they pressured networks to feature Kim Ji-su, hire her boyfriend Kim Min-jun as promo model or slip him into dramas."
"Kim Min-jun?"
Familiar name.
The homewrecker who'd trashed my marriage. Why him?
"Kim Min-jun? Her boyfriend?"
"Yes. Investigation shows Kim Ji-su cooperated in exchange for the Gender Ministry promising to make her boyfriend a star."
"Ah, got it."
Puzzle complete.
Why the quiet girl suddenly played TV victim.
Gender Ministry backing her all the way.
"Boyfriend, huh... Kinda funny."
I couldn't help a smirk.
Repackaging the affair partner as "boyfriend" and launching him to stardom.
Had to respect the civil servants' creativity.
The back had call logs too: Choi Hyun-jin, the judge behind the absurd ruling, was the Gender Minister's college junior—and legal advisor on this plot.
Perfect.
Just what I wanted, right in my hands.
As I silently closed the binder, the nervous official piped up cautiously.
"...So, you'll forgive us now?"
Sheepish, sweating.
With companies rioting over visa curbs, no wonder he was desperate.
I smiled leisurely.
"Good work. Love the investigation."
"Then..."
"One last thing, and I'll put in a good word with the US government."
"...What would that be?"
"Last" lit up his face.
Thought he was home free.
"Set up a live press conference tomorrow. Then we'll talk."
"Pardon? Press conference?"
"Yes."
His expression hardened again.
Air the government's dirty laundry nationwide.
"...That's really all?"
"Yep. Might be awkward for the government, sure..."
I sipped my tea.
"But hey, I'm the victim targeted by a government agency, right? Small ask."
Irresistible.
Reject, and talks collapse—visa mess drags forever.
He pondered, then nodded decisively.
"...Yes. We'll prep immediately. Coordinated with Blue House PR chief—tomorrow 10 a.m."
"Perfect."
As he gathered papers to leave, I snapped my fingers like I'd just remembered.
"Oh, and."
"Yes?"
"Everyone in these docs? Suing them all. Appreciate the help—evidence sharing, that sorta thing."
I flashed a grin.
"Gotta do it by the book, right?"
He nodded stiffly, sour as a lemon.
"...Understood."
He left, door clicked shut.
I reopened the binder, tracing names: Kim Ji-su, Kim Ji-young, Choi Hyun-jin.
Never planned to blow it this big.
Sure, I'd immigrated to the US, but my roots were Korean.
Land for my parents, siblings to live on.
Didn't want Korea irreparably wrecked.
That's why no dragging feet.
Didn't wanna see innocent students packing bags or random firms bleeding—over me.
Unrelated folks hurt on my account? Not my style.
Don't make too many enemies.
My long-held creed.
But that doesn't mean swallow it to avoid them.
It means crush the ones you get—ensure they can't rise again.
Anyway, government was way more cooperative than expected.
And finally, I arrived at the press conference hall.