Crushing the Nephew's Rebellion (1)
Of course, Kwon Seung-hye’s sudden outburst was a massive stroke of luck for me. I had been wondering how to insert myself into the retrial lawsuit Kwon Il-gyun had filed, and here was the perfect opening.
Chairman Kwon Byung-do must have been unable to refuse his granddaughter, or perhaps he simply liked what she said, because he broke into a broad smile. “Haha. Well, if our Seung-hye says so, it does feel odd to leave family matters entirely to outsiders. Then, shall we hear from our family’s legal expert first? Ho-gyun, what do you think of this case?”
Perfect. Kwon Seung-hye’s stray shot had landed right in front of me like a precise pass to a teammate. She clearly had no grasp of how conversations flowed; even if she went to law school, she would never make a good lawyer.
I didn’t know the details of Kwon Il-gyun’s retrial request yet, so I didn’t have much to say. Still, as a player, I naturally dribbled the ball that had fallen at my feet. “It’s not a situation we can afford to be complacent about. The fact that the court accepted the retrial petition means the other side has presented new evidence suggesting the verdict from twenty years ago was wrong.”
“Is that so? Then once a retrial begins, the original ruling is usually overturned?”
While the conversation between Chairman Kwon Byung-do and me continued, Kwon Seung-hye, who had locked eyes with her father Kwon Seong-gyun, turned bright red and lowered her head. She must have finally realized that father and daughter had been thinking the same thing far too late.
Regardless, I answered the chairman’s question with confidence. “No. Since it was already a final judgment, we can win easily if we simply neutralize the additional evidence they’ve submitted. Was the new evidence mentioned in the complaint Father received?”
Chairman Kwon Byung-do nodded slowly, as if recalling many past events. He was probably searching through memories from twenty years ago when the original trial had taken place. “That’s right.”
Now was the time to drive the wedge in. “Since Attorney Oh Il-mu, who played an important role in that case twenty years ago, is now with our law firm, why don’t we handle the retrial as well?”
“Good. Let’s do that. We’ll discuss the details separately.”
“Yes, Father.”
Sensing that our conversation was wrapping up, Kwon Seung-hye suddenly spoke again, determined to insert herself somehow. “Grandfather!”
“Yes, Seung-hye.”
“Could I help with this case too? It’s a family matter, and gaining practical experience before law school would be good for me.”
Chairman Kwon Byung-do clearly didn’t like the idea. Since he didn’t want to flatly refuse his granddaughter himself, he casually passed the decision to me. “Ho-gyun, you’re the president of your law firm, aren’t you?”
My official title at Law Firm Seungbaek was Representative Attorney, not president, but when the person offering such a major case called me president, who was I to argue? “Yes.”
“In your opinion, would it be helpful to have her work with you?”
We were a company that solved legal cases and made money, not a training institute that provided practical education to someone who hadn’t even entered law school yet. I was about to refuse outright when Kwon Seung-hye’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. The only way was to make her realize for herself that she didn’t belong here.
“Seung-hye, under the current Civil Act, can you list the statutory inheritance priority order?”
“Children are first… then grandchildren, right?”
Pfft. She was so wrong it was almost impressive. In the absence of a separate will, the statutory inheritance priority is: 1st priority—lineal descendants (including children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren) and spouse; 2nd priority—lineal ascendants (including parents, grandparents, maternal grandparents).
I hadn’t expected Kwon Seung-hye to recite the inheritance order from first through seventh priority. But how could someone offering to help with an inheritance-related lawsuit, let alone a retrial, not even know the first and second priorities? This was basic information any Korean could learn instantly by asking Naver, the nation’s top knowledge source, without any formal legal study.
Whether she realized her answer was wrong or not, Kwon Seung-hye’s face, which had cooled slightly, flushed tomato-red again. I worried her face might burst if I openly said she was wrong, and since I had already decided to make her confront her own ignorance, I took another approach.
“Conveniently, you’re holding your phone. Why don’t you look it up?”
“……Yes.”
Well, at least she had decent information-search skills befitting a university student. Less than a minute later, Kwon Seung-hye let out a deep sigh. “It’s not right.”
“Exactly. You said you’re going to law school, right? Study hard, and help with work later.”
“Yes, Oppa.”
Like steam escaping a pressure cooker, Kwon Seung-hye’s face gradually returned to its normal color with each repeated sigh. But what was even funnier was the man sitting beside her—Kwon Seong-gyun. Unable to show his anger in front of Chairman Kwon Byung-do, the veins bulging at his temples from the effort of suppressing his rage looked ready to burst. They were almost as thick as a horse’s thigh.
Heh. With one more step taken toward QS Life Insurance—the key to becoming the next chairman of QS Group—his blood must be boiling.
* * *
Thus, I became the vanguard in suppressing the nephew’s rebellion Kwon Il-gyun had started. But when I actually received the documents, the case was far from simple.
The incident began twenty years ago with the death of the late Chairman Kwon Seong-uk. At the time, Chairman Kwon Seong-uk had already stepped back from management, and the three brothers—Gap-do, Eul-do, and Byeong-do—were fiercely competing for the next leadership position. Then, due to the worsening of Chairman Kwon Seong-uk’s heart condition, he passed away at an unexpected moment.
Afterward, Chairman Kwon Seong-uk’s notarized will was made public, granting Kwon Byung-do the right of first refusal for QS Life Insurance shares. Even then, just like now, QS Life Insurance held a controlling position over the entire QS Group. Immediately after his father’s funeral, Kwon Byung-do exercised that right of first refusal, purchasing 19.8% of QS Life Insurance shares and seizing control of the group.
Then, a few months ago, the autobiography of Attorney Yu Hwan-il—who had notarized Chairman Kwon Seong-uk’s will—was published, unleashing a storm that had lain dormant for twenty years. The problematic passages in that book, written like an extremely long retirement declaration, were these:
— I have lived my entire life holding the law in my hands. But if asked whether I used that law to realize justice, the answer, though truly shameful, is no. Considering that another name for law is Justice, my life as a legal professional is close to a failing grade.
— For example, though it is only now that I confess because the weight of my conscience has become unbearable, the will of QS Group Chairman Kwon Seong-do that I notarized was forged. I do not deny that I participated in that forgery.
— The right of first refusal for the QS Life Insurance shares held by Chairman Kwon Seong-uk should have gone not to the current QS Group Chairman Kwon Byung-do, but to the eldest son, Kwon Gap-do. Because the client’s honor is also at stake, I cannot disclose the detailed circumstances in a published work (……)
I had bought and read a copy of this autobiography myself, and the passages were exactly as quoted. Attorney Yu Hwan-il was roughly the same age as Chairman Kwon Byung-do, so it seemed strange that he would engage in such harsh self-criticism at the end of his life. While it was common for people to donate money to society when settling their affairs, it was rare for someone to throw away a lifetime of built-up reputation into the trash. I also wondered what Attorney Yu Hwan-il stood to gain by revealing this now. Although the book mentioned retirement in other sections, why would he effectively sentence his own career as a lawyer to death in this manner?
Regardless, the book was published, and Kwon Il-gyun filed for a retrial based on its contents. The court apparently found it difficult to ignore the conscience declaration that the will of Chairman Kwon Seong-uk—the key evidence—had been forged. Thus, the trial that had recognized Chairman Kwon Byung-do’s right of first refusal for QS Life Insurance shares twenty years ago was reopened.
According to what Chairman Kwon Byung-do told me when I took on the case, the QS Life Insurance shares had indeed been meant to come to him. However, twenty years later, there was no clear evidence left, and we couldn’t wake Chairman Kwon Seong-uk to ask him, so this testimony would be difficult to rely on. Even the judgment preview I saw in advance indicated an unfavorable outcome.
[Ruling. The defendant shall carry out the procedure for selling 39,600,000 shares of QS Life Insurance stock to the plaintiff.]
In this case, the defendant was Chairman Kwon Byung-do, and the plaintiff was Kwon Il-gyun. In other words, if things continued this way, 19.8% of QS Life Insurance shares would fall into Kwon Il-gyun’s hands. I wondered if Kwon Il-gyun even had the money to buy that many shares, but that problem could be solved by taking out a loan using the shares as collateral. This was an outcome that neither Chairman Kwon Byung-do nor I could ever allow to happen. We were already busy dealing with the Seong-gyun and Je-gyun brothers; we couldn’t let some suddenly appearing Kwon Il-gyun insert himself into the succession structure for the next chairman of QS Group.
How do I overturn this trial? After closing Attorney Yu Hwan-il’s autobiography, I reflected on my past experiences of reversing the results shown in judgment previews. I had never found clues in the “Ruling” section that merely summarized the outcome. Most important information was written in the “Reasons” section below it.
Thinking the same would apply this time, I opened the judgment preview again and analyzed the “Reasons” section with hawk-like eyes. Finally, I found a suspicious point.
[Reasons. (……) According to the written statement submitted by witness Yu Hwan-il, the process by which the late Kwon Seong-uk’s will was forged has been detailed, so it shall be deemed to lack evidentiary value. (……)]
Following the published autobiography, Attorney Yu Hwan-il was testifying only in writing again. This meant Attorney Yu Hwan-il would not appear in court. Writing could easily be done by someone else, couldn’t it? What if everything—from the passages in the autobiography to the statement submitted to the court—had been ghostwritten? In other words, what if it wasn’t Chairman Kwon Seong-uk’s will that was forged, but Attorney Yu Hwan-il’s writing?
Though still only a hypothesis, thinking this way resolved one more question. The harsh self-criticism in the autobiography, written as if he were willing to discard his honor entirely, made sense if it hadn’t been written by the man himself.
Shifting the focus of the case from Kwon Seong-uk’s will to Yu Hwan-il’s writing made the situation feel like it was starting to unravel. Conveniently, the person who knew everything there was to know about Attorney Yu Hwan-il was right in the next office.