The Double-Entry Ledger
This time, the upgrade was on an entirely different level from when Law Firm Seungbaek had first secured its foothold. Back then, it had merely been a matter of learning a new way to apply the already-visible judgment documents by substituting hypothetical information. This time, however, the very type of document visible had changed.
Just to be sure the judgment documents hadn't disappeared, I pulled them up again. They were still there. Both the judgment document and the word processor file regarding Je-gyun's embezzlement case remained perfectly visible.
Burp.
The frustration that had built up from only seeing judgment documents all this time finally lifted, leaving me so relieved I nearly let out a burp. On top of that, the document that appeared was exactly the kind of irrefutable evidence I needed to trap Je-gyun completely.
Jung Ju-seong, the father of Jung Ji-eun, was clearly no ordinary meticulous person. Most people would tuck such things away in their hearts and eventually forget them, yet he had recorded every single thing he had given to and received from Je-gyun with painstaking detail.
The document was neatly divided in half. On the right side (credit), he had listed everything Je-gyun had taken from him. On the left side (debit), he had noted everything he believed he had extracted from Je-gyun. While the overall format wasn't strictly double-entry bookkeeping, each entry included the date of the transaction, its details, and even an estimated monetary value.
Wow. When I checked his personnel file, it said he was a former certified public accountant. He must really love his profession. How could someone apply such a tedious double-entry format even to a private document like this?
Perhaps forcing Jung Ju-seong out of the QS Food finance team and into the QS FnB finance director position had been Kwon Je-gyun's biggest mistake. A man who lived and breathed charts and numbers, suddenly ordered to handle other tasks—anyone in his position would be furious.
Now, the task was to get my hands on this document file. My first thought was to ask Yeo Eun-ju to hack Jung Ju-seong's computer, but that was a dead end. The biggest problem with using a document as evidence is always its source. If I obtained it through hacking, I could never reveal its true origin. The document's credibility would be questioned, and it would end up as nothing more than gossip, just like an anonymous tip. With that, I doubted I could actually remove Kwon Je-gyun from his presidential seat. If things backfired, I could even be framed for fabricating documents to oust an affiliate executive while serving as the Junggyeongbon director.
Furthermore, I was planning to drag Kwon Je-gyun into court on embezzlement charges if he continued to struggle even after losing his position. Documents with unclear origins are treated as nonexistent in criminal court. Hacking was not an option I could afford right now.
The best scenario would be for Jung Ju-seong himself, the document's author, to hand me the original and later testify about it.
As I continued flipping through the document, an interesting entry appeared near the very end. He had tallied up everything he had given to and received from Kwon Je-gyun in monetary terms.
-1x,xxx,xxx won
The exact amount was blurry, but it contained all the information I needed. The fact that he had converted the political dealings within the company into monetary values meant those numbers carried subjective elements. Not every transaction through internal politics could be calculated with precise figures, after all.
Take the entry I had just seen: [Kwon Je-gyun, CEO, mediates conflict between the finance and sales teams]. He had apparently recorded it because he believed Je-gyun's mediation had helped him, but how could such assistance be quantified exactly? If he felt he had lost something big to Je-gyun, the number would grow larger. If he felt he had received something small, it would shrink. The fact that the total came out negative meant Jung Ju-seong believed, deep down, that he had received less than he was owed.
Moreover, counting the digits on that negative number revealed a substantial sum—anywhere from 100 million to 200 million won. Given that Jung Ji-eun's letter had mentioned financial difficulties in Jung Ju-seong's household, that mental claim of his was by no means a small amount to him.
In other words, if I reinterpreted this document, Jung Ju-seong firmly believed he had suffered enormous losses in his dealings with Kwon Je-gyun. Conversely, this also allowed for a rather amusing additional interpretation: the maximum amount I would need to spend to bring Jung Ju-seong to my side was only 200 million won. When I was already preparing 300 billion won to acquire shares in QS Life Insurance and Chairman Kwon Byung-do had even provided 200 billion won, what was 200 million? If I could take down Kwon Je-gyun with just 200 million, wouldn't that be an absolute bargain?
Things were unfolding more easily than expected. I liked this upgraded ability.
* * *
With this, I had a clear path to resolve Je-gyun's embezzlement case in the best possible way. However, Director Jung Ju-seong seemed to be avoiding me. The moment I first called and introduced myself as Audit Team Leader Kwon Hyo-gyun, he hurriedly hung up, claiming he was in a client meeting. Even afterward, whenever I called or texted, he insisted he was busy 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
It was after hearing that excuse for the fourth time that I decided enough was enough. Even if I wasn't his direct superior, I was still his boss in the company hierarchy. Being rejected five times for a meeting request didn't sit right with me, so I had this exchange:
"What are you doing tomorrow at 4 p.m.?"
- Ah, our entire finance team has a meeting then.
"Does FnB hold meetings at 4 a.m.?"
- Ah, 4 a.m. That's when I walk our dog at home.
A brief silence followed. Then Jung Ju-seong realized the massive slip he had just made and scrambled to recover.
- I mean, what I just said was... it's a bit disappointing that we can't see each other's faces over the phone.
His face must have turned bright red.
"No, I don't think you meant to say I'm less important than your dog."
- ... I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. Please forgive my grave mistake.
Only after that slightly heated exchange with the middle-aged man did I finally manage to schedule a meeting with Jung Ju-seong.
"There's no need to forgive what I didn't misunderstand."
- I'm truly sorry. If it's all right with you, Team Leader, shall we meet tomorrow at 4 a.m.?
Did he seriously want to meet at that ungodly hour?
"That's too early. What time does the finance team meeting you mentioned end?"
- Given the nature of finance team meetings, we don't make critical decisions, so they don't run long.
"Then how about 6 p.m. after your meeting?"
- Yes, that works.
And so, I met Jung Ju-seong at a café near the QS FnB office. He looked like an office worker who had time-slipped from thirty years ago—long face, thin-framed glasses, and above all, a perfectly symmetrical 5:5 parted hair that gave him an old-fashioned air. A shame I couldn't see that face flush red again. If his hair were green, he'd look exactly like a freshly pulled carrot.
Still unable to escape the aftermath of his verbal slip, Jung Ju-seong fidgeted nervously as I asked the question that had been on my mind.
"Why were you avoiding me so much?"
"Well, you said you work in the audit team. I had a rough idea why you wanted to meet, but I really don't want to do anything like internal whistleblowing."
"What exactly did you assume?"
Jung Ju-seong hesitated for a long while before finally answering.
"It's because it might involve your older brother's... personal matters, so I was being extra cautious."
Ha. I knew he was meticulous, but I hadn't expected the flip side to be extreme timidity.
"You can speak freely. My brother and I don't get along."
"Ah, then I'll feel a bit more at ease. Last week, Kwon Je-gyun, the CEO, took credit for the cafeteria operation contract I secured with Hansuh University Hospital, didn't he?"
The Hansuh University cafeteria deal. It hadn't been in the anonymous tip I'd received, nor in the double-entry ledger I'd seen yesterday. So Je-gyun had pulled another stunt recently.
"There's a much bigger issue than what you just mentioned, which is why I wanted to meet."
"Pardon?"
As Jung Ju-seong's eyes darted nervously, I held out a single sheet of paper.
"Would you like to take a look at this first? That's your daughter's handwriting, isn't it?"
The document I showed him was the handwritten letter Jung Ji-eun had sent to the audit team. Since it was crucial evidence, I'd debated whether to bring a copy or just show a photo, but I deliberately brought the original, thinking an emotional impact would be necessary.
"W-what is this? It is my daughter's handwriting, but why does the audit team have this?"
"Your daughter mailed it to QS headquarters, and it was forwarded to our audit team. Is the content true? It seems Kwon Je-gyun, the CEO, has stolen your achievements more than once."
Jung Ju-seong couldn't even finish reading the letter. He raised his palm to his forehead, right between his perfectly parted 5:5 hair. He seemed to think his daughter, who had a completely different personality from his own, had caused a major incident.
"I'm sorry. It seems my daughter has done something unnecessary and interfered with the audit team's work."
"It wasn't unnecessary—it was commendable, wasn't it? Thanks to this letter, we were able to uncover a performance manipulation case that the audit team might have otherwise overlooked. Someone higher than President Kwon Je-gyun of QS said to pass along that the letter was well received. This is pocket money for your daughter, since she did a good deed."
Jung Ju-seong's expression had been gradually softening at the praise for his daughter, but when he saw the envelope I held out, his face went pale again and he waved his hands frantically.
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly. I don't accept money from colleagues."
"At least open it and see."
Following my words, Jung Ju-seong checked inside the envelope and burst out laughing.
"Pfft."
It was understandable. The envelope did contain money, but it was exactly the amount suitable as pocket money for an elementary school student—10,000 won. Not even a single 10,000-won bill, but ten 1,000-won bills, so it would be convenient for small purchases.
"Wouldn't it be all right to accept this much? Strictly speaking, it's for your daughter, so it's not like you're receiving it yourself."
Jung Ju-seong pulled the envelope he had pushed toward me and placed it on his side of the table.
Okay. Jung Ju-seong, who had been avoiding me until now, was slowly opening up. At this pace, it seemed possible to obtain the "ledger regarding transactions with Kwon Je-gyun, CEO" file, which was the very reason I had come here.