Becoming a Shareholder of Another's Company (1)
Jegal Hyeon was the very picture of salt and light in this world—both by temperament and by circumstance. I would have preferred hiring a junior over a senior, but having only just passed the bar exam myself, anyone younger than me was still stuck in law school. A three-year senior seemed acceptable. The last thing I wanted was some lofty senior waltzing in and playing fox in a tiger's den. If someone with the exact skills I needed appeared later, I could simply hire them then. Paying one more lawyer's salary was hardly a burden for me.
Thus, the three-lawyer system of myself, Oh Il-mu, and Jegal Hyeon was established. Each attorney brought one administrative assistant, bringing the total to six, and with the addition of hacker Yeo Eun-ju, Law Firm Seungbaek was complete with seven members.
* * *
While the firm was settling into its new shape, another change occurred. My ability to see court verdicts had been upgraded—or perhaps I had simply grown more adept at wielding it. Previously, the moment I obtained information about a case, the corresponding verdict would appear. Not long ago, however, I discovered something new. If I substituted different hypothetical information instead of what I actually knew, a fresh verdict would manifest.
For example, when I changed the presiding judge's name, a verdict with similar content but slightly different wording and tone appeared. The same held true when I altered key facts of the case. On a whim, I read an article about a murder and summoned the verdict, then imagined the victim as the perpetrator's father. The sentence lengthened dramatically.
[Ruling. The defendant is sentenced to eight years in prison.] → [Ruling. The defendant is sentenced to fifteen years in prison.]
Parricide and filicide are considered especially heinous among murder cases and receive severe aggravated punishment. A quiet chuckle escaped me. I rather liked this upgraded ability. Before, changing a verdict required actual intervention in the case. Now I could simply test different approaches in advance and move only in the direction that produced favorable results. I still did not know the true nature of this power, but if it continued to evolve as I grew accustomed to it, even better functions might emerge.
Yawn. Growl—. One drawback: after using the upgraded ability, I became extremely drowsy and ravenously hungry. The energy cost must be enormous.
* * *
The case currently occupying my attention was a divorce suit. Divorce cases carry a heavy emotional toll for the lawyer and demand far more labor than their legal complexity might suggest. One must reconstruct every detail of a marriage that may have lasted years or even decades, then select the facts most advantageous to one's client and persuade the judge. Yet persuading the judge is no easier than in other litigation. The law offers no concrete instructions on how love ought to be conducted, so even when a lawyer submits mountains of documents and argues passionately in court, the outcome is often disappointing. Most divorces end with the vague conclusion that the couple was "incompatible," and this is precisely why.
I had intended to hand this case to Jegal Hyeon as well, but the client insisted it had to be me. He had seen my articles, called the bar association, and tracked down the firm's address. Once I heard his story, I understood why he was so determined.
I met the man named Yoon Seung-hyun two days earlier. The name alone had not been enough to confirm anything, but the moment I saw his face, I knew it was the same Yoon Seung-hyun I remembered. Roughly ten years ago he had debuted as an idol, enjoyed a brief period of success, then suddenly vanished from the public eye. Rumors later claimed he had quit activities because of marriage. Seeing him arrive with divorce papers in hand, those rumors appeared to be true.
Yoon Seung-hyun let out a long sigh the moment he sat across from me.
"You are Attorney Kwon Ho-gyun, correct? The son of the QS Group chairman?"
"Yes, both are correct. What brings you to me?"
He fumbled through his bag and handed me the complaint he had received.
"I was served with this. It seems to be a request for divorce. I'm willing to divorce, but the contents are so absurd that I came to see you."
"Let me take a look."
"Please."
The complaint was lengthy, but its demands could be summarized in three points:
- Because Yoon Seung-hyun contributed nothing to the accumulation of marital assets during the ten years of marriage, he would receive none of his wife's property.
- Since the breakdown of the marriage was entirely Yoon Seung-hyun's fault, his wife demanded 30 million won in alimony.
- Custody of the child would remain with the wife.
Most lawyers, even when they intend to negotiate a settlement later, begin with an aggressively one-sided complaint to seize the initiative. People unfamiliar with legal tactics are often shocked by such documents, and Yoon Seung-hyun appeared to be one of them.
After skimming the complaint, I returned to the first page to hand it back. The plaintiff's name—his wife's name—jumped out at me.
Jang Mi-ye.
It was a name I had seen on the family tree of the JB Group chairman that I kept alongside the QS Group's. To be certain, I asked,
"Your wife's name is Jang Mi-ye?"
"You know her? She's the niece of the JB Group chairman."
As expected. My guess had been correct.
"Yes. It is the person I am thinking of."
"That's why I refused every other lawyer and insisted on you, Attorney Kwon Ho-gyun. If the other side is JB Group, I figured I needed someone from QS Group at the very least."
"I wondered why you were so insistent on hiring someone with so little experience. Now I understand."
"You'll take the case, won't you?"
A case involving the JB Group's ruling family was certainly tempting, but I wanted to hear a little more first.
"Taking on a case isn't something decided after reading a single complaint. You also need to be satisfied with the terms I propose."
"Ah, by terms, do you mean the retainer fee?"
"That is an important condition, yes."
"Attorney, I'm terribly sorry, but would it be possible to pay the retainer after the case is over? The money I saved before has been spent bit by bit over the past ten years, and all other assets are in my wife's name. If I have to pay upfront, I'll have to go into debt."
Industry protocol dictates an immediate refusal in such situations. Retainers are paid in advance; the legal profession has no desire to break that custom. There are practical reasons as well. If a lawyer provides full service only for the client to later refuse payment because the result is unsatisfactory, the lawyer must then file a separate lawsuit for the unpaid fee.
Of course, losing a single retainer would not ruin me, and Yoon Seung-hyun's inability to pay immediately presented an opportunity I could exploit.
"Attorney retainers are, as a rule, paid in advance."
Yoon Seung-hyun scratched his head, interpreting my words as refusal.
"Ah, so a deferred payment is difficult?"
"There is a way to handle it on a deferred basis."
"What is it?"
"We can set the retainer at zero and increase the success fee instead. The success fee is paid only after the case concludes."
A success fee is an additional amount received when the lawyer secures a victory or achieves the client's objectives. Color returned to Yoon Seung-hyun's face.
"So you're saying I don't have to pay anything right now in exchange for you taking the case?"
"That is correct."
"Then what does raising the success fee mean? How much would I have to pay you after the lawsuit ends?"
"Normally, in divorce cases, we receive ten percent of the amount the client obtains as a success fee. Since we would be proceeding without a retainer—an exceptional arrangement—I would suggest thirty percent."
"So if I receive one million won from Jang Mi-ye, I would give you three hundred thousand won?"
Excellent. He was taking the bait.
"Yes, you understand correctly."
"Let's do it that way. I thought hiring the son of the QS Group chairman would require an enormous amount of money upfront, but if it just means I receive a little less in the end, that doesn't matter much."
"Very well. We will draft the retainer agreement and discuss the details of the case."
"Thank you!"
A quiet laugh escaped me. Things were proceeding quite smoothly. The amount of money I would ultimately receive from handling the case was of no particular interest to me. What I was after was something that could not easily be purchased on the open market, no matter how much one was willing to pay.
* * *
The governance structures of QS Group and JB Group appear similar at first glance yet reveal critical differences upon closer inspection. QS Group is built around three pillars—electronics, telecommunications, and food—with dozens of subsidiaries and sub-subsidiaries beneath each. These companies hold cross-shareholdings that, despite repeated attempts at resolution, remain entangled in a circular ownership structure, forming a dense web that constitutes the vast QS network. QS Insurance functions as the de facto holding company overseeing all three pillars, and above it sits QS Group itself, listed as QS Corporation. Among the three pillars, Seong-gyun controls electronics, Seong-gyun and Je-gyun share telecommunications roughly equally, and Je-gyun holds firm control over food. Chairman Kwon Byung-do maintains dominance over the entire group by holding stakes in both QS Insurance and QS Corporation. The core knots of the web have been passed to his two sons, yet he still grips the handle firmly.
JB Group is likewise organized around three pillars—construction, automobiles, and heavy industry—but the entity that controls all of them from the very top is unique. A mysterious company named Jangbaek Corporation holds the entire JB Group in its grasp.