Teaching the Ungrateful Daughter a Lesson (1)
After hearing my question, Jegal Hyeon tilted his head as though he didn't know much either.
"I'm not sure. Lawyer Yu Hwan-il just said to give it to Lawyer Oh Il-mu. He didn't mention what was inside, only that Lawyer Oh Il-mu would know right away once he opened it."
Jegal Hyeon wasn't the type to lie, and since he'd come straight here from Yu Hwan-il's house, he wouldn't have had time to open it anyway. The way Yu Hwan-il had phrased it—like this was something only the two of them would understand—immediately pointed me in one direction. Yesterday, Oh Il-mu had confessed to me about the forged will of former Chairman Kwon Seong-uk. I had a feeling this USB contained something related to that incident.
The surface of the USB had yellowed as if it had jaundice; it looked about twenty years old. Still, this was just my guess. The more I thought something important might be inside, the more I wanted to open it. As I debated whether to plug the USB into the computer in front of me, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
"Yes, Lawyer Oh. Did the trial you went to go well?"
Oh Il-mu sounded even more impatient than I was, his voice a notch higher than usual.
"Yes, yes. It was more tedious than difficult, so it should wrap up fine. More importantly, right after the trial I sent the client off and called Senior Yu Hwan-il again, but he's not answering. Maybe his clear-minded period has ended and he's slipped back into dementia mode."
Or perhaps, having already passed everything he wanted to say through Jegal Hyeon, he saw no need to take Oh Il-mu's call. Either way, Oh Il-mu—who still hadn't grasped the full picture—must have felt like he was constantly missing something crucial, which explained his urgency.
"Fortunately, you told me first earlier, so our firm's Lawyer Jegal Hyeon just returned from Lawyer Yu's house."
"That's a relief. What did Senior Yu say?"
"I was just starting to talk with Lawyer Jegal. He said Lawyer Yu gave him a USB to pass on to you. It looks quite old—do you have any idea what might be on it?"
"A USB? Hmm. I remember when Lawyer Yu was leaving QS Group, the Central Management Headquarters decided to stop using diskettes company-wide and switch to USBs. We had to transfer all the data and it was quite a hassle."
I almost laughed at the word "diskette"—a relic I hadn't heard in ages. The fact that these two had actually used 3.5-inch floppy disks in practice made me realize just how long they'd been in the industry. In any case, Oh Il-mu didn't know what was on the USB either.
"Then would it be all right if I opened it while you're on your way?"
"Yes, yes, that's fine. If you open it and take a look, I'll head over as quickly as I can to join you."
"I'll see you in my office."
Okay. With the interested party's permission, I needed to find out what was inside right away.
Click.
I inserted the USB into my office computer's main unit and opened the window. There was one file and one folder. Neither name gave any clue as to their contents. The file name was a random string of letters, symbols, and numbers, while the folder was simply named "Thrush"—as if it had never been renamed after creation.
Whatever message Yu Hwan-il wanted to convey to Oh Il-mu was probably inside that "Thrush" folder.
Double-click.
I opened the folder without hesitation, but a password prompt appeared. Below the input field was a deceptively polite warning:
If the password is entered incorrectly three or more times, the folder's contents will be permanently deleted. Please proceed with caution.
That message killed any thought of trying something simple like "1111" or "9999." No one would attach an auto-delete function to such an obvious password, and if the contents were accidentally erased, it would be a disaster. That strangely named file was probably an auto-delete program. At this rate, I had no good options.
* * *
Bang.
While I was considering calling in the hacker Yeo Eun-ju to force it open, my office door swung open and Oh Il-mu entered, looking flushed.
"Lawyer Oh, perfect timing. The USB I mentioned on the phone has a password. I can't open it."
"A password?"
"Yes. Would you like to take a look?"
Oh Il-mu set his bag on the consultation table and came over to stand behind me, staring at the screen.
"It really does."
Wait, this guy? Shouldn't he know what the password is?
"Lawyer Jegal, did Lawyer Yu Hwan-il say anything about the password?"
"No. He just said that if I gave you this USB, you'd know."
Let's see. If there had been any hint about the password, it would have been a riddle only Oh Il-mu could solve, but there was nothing of the sort. That narrowed the possibilities to one: this password had to be something both Oh Il-mu and Lawyer Yu Hwan-il knew.
"Lawyer Oh, didn't you and Lawyer Yu Hwan-il share any passwords back when you worked together?"
Oh Il-mu's face brightened instantly at the clue.
"Ah, there was a password the QS Group legal team used to share. Maybe that's it."
"Would you like to try entering it?"
"Yes!"
Tap, tap.
Once Oh Il-mu finished entering the password, the locked folder opened, revealing the files inside.
Gasp.
Oh Il-mu couldn't even exhale the breath he'd drawn. He signaled to Jegal Hyeon to look elsewhere. Once Jegal Hyeon had moved a safe distance from my computer, Oh Il-mu opened the files one by one and showed them to me.
The first was the original notarized will—the one from before it was forged. The second was the forged will that granted Chairman Kwon Byung-do the right of first refusal over QS Life Insurance shares. The third file contained a short note Yu Hwan-il had left for Oh Il-mu.
This is the most shameful thing I ever did in my life as a lawyer, and it still weighs on my heart. My health has deteriorated, and carrying this any longer feels too heavy, so I'm passing it on to you, Oh Il-mu. This file is the original; there are no copies.
Whether you bury the matter or reveal it to the world according to your conscience—that decision is yours, as the one who led this affair. If you choose to reveal it, please do me one last favor and leave my name out of it. I was only involved because I happened to be the first to notarize the document. This is an old and ailing senior's final request.
Whew.
Only after reading the note did Oh Il-mu finally release the breath he'd been holding.
"Lawyer Oh, would it be all right if I kept this USB?"
"Yes. Since I already told you everything yesterday, that would be best. Shall I write down the password for you?"
"I'd appreciate that."
Scratch, scratch.
Oh Il-mu wrote the password on the memo paper and pen I handed him and passed it over.
QSlaw3527%&
Now that I knew what was on the USB, it was time to check the second item Yu Hwan-il had given Jegal Hyeon. I looked at Jegal Hyeon, who was standing awkwardly by the door, and asked,
"Lawyer Jegal, we're about to play that recording file. Would you like to listen with us?"
Jegal Hyeon hesitated for a moment before lowering his head.
"I already heard it while recording. Would it be all right if the two of you listened without me? Hearing Lawyer Yu Hwan-il's words again is… difficult for me."
What on earth had been recorded that made the usually mild-mannered Jegal Hyeon show such emotional distress? Oh Il-mu seemed to share my thought; he blinked as our eyes met.
"All right, we'll do that. Thank you for your hard work today, Lawyer Jegal. You mentioned the complaint you were drafting was due today—please finish it up and feel free to head home early."
"Thank you."
After bowing toward us, Jegal Hyeon returned to his office. I played the recording file I'd received earlier. It didn't take long to understand why Jegal Hyeon had found it so painful.
How could a person do something like this?
After stating his name and the recording time, Yu Hwan-il's next words were a heartfelt plea directed at Oh Il-mu.
Then came a detailed account of how Yu Hwan-il's autobiography had come to be published. After retiring due to dementia, Yu Hwan-il had given all his account passwords—including the one for his laptop—to his only family member, his daughter. The laptop contained the manuscript of the autobiography he'd been writing over the years. Since the published version largely matched the original manuscript, it was clear the book had been based on what he'd written. And there was only one person who could have done that: his daughter, Yu Ju-yeon.
Publishing her father's autobiography without his consent wasn't necessarily a terrible act. The real problem was that Yu Ju-yeon had altered the manuscript, adding content that hadn't been there before—specifically, the claim that Chairman Kwon Seong-uk's will had been forged, which became the basis for Kwon Il-gyun's retrial request.
Yu Hwan-il had intended to take that secret to his grave, but during one of his lucid periods, he'd apparently told his daughter about it. Then, about six months ago, Yu Hwan-il and Yu Ju-yeon had a major argument. Yu Ju-yeon had discovered that her father had promised to donate half his fortune to society upon retirement. When half of the fortune she'd considered her own suddenly vanished, she became deeply upset and quarreled violently with him. Whether her anger simply wouldn't subside or she had other motives, she added content that would tarnish her father's reputation to the autobiography and published it anyway.
Wow. Even among ungrateful daughters, how could there be one this bad? Yu Ju-yeon would have known better than anyone how much her father valued his honor. Yet the fact that Yu Hwan-il had still begged for his daughter's protection at the beginning of the recording was heartbreaking.
This woman needed to be punished—and I was going to be the one to do it.