Cho & Jang (2)
What's with this kid?
Senior attorney Kim Gyeongmin felt as if he'd been struck on the back of the head.
Competition at Law Firm Cho & Jang ran fiercer than in any other organization. More than a thousand attorneys smiled at one another while sizing each other up every single day. Every lawyer who worked there signed an individual contract directly with managing partner Jang Muyeol. Signing bonuses and performance payouts varied wildly according to ability; once you proved your worth, your pockets filled overnight. Fail to deliver results, and the contract was terminated on the spot.
Judges, prosecutors, and lawyers lined up year-round just for a chance to join Cho & Jang. Here, personal billables were the sole measure of competence. Human rights? Justice? In this firm, that was pure nonsense. Winning the legal fight—no matter what—was the only human right, the only justice. Only then did a fat bonus drop into the handling attorney's lap. The pay differentials based on performance defied imagination.
Anyone in Korea who possessed real power or real money trusted Cho & Jang. To secure victory in their legal battles, the entire firm cooperated as a single organic machine. Clients only ever increased; they never decreased. They came of their own accord. Whether something was right or wrong by social convention was irrelevant. The approach to each case was anything but simple. Clients who actually held the moral high ground were a tiny minority. The bigger the matter, the more likely it involved an illegal position—and the greater the guaranteed revenue. The real high-value clients were the trash who stood at the center of society's evils. Even when they got tangled in illegal affairs, they knew Cho & Jang would tidy everything up with ease.
The attorneys' code of ethics conveniently lightened the load for legal representatives who had already sold their consciences. In exchange for a lifetime duty of secrecy, they received a life of luxury. The stress that came with it, however, was almost impossible to put into words. You could not survive here without selling your conscience. This was the purest real-world version of the law of the jungle, wearing a human face.
And into that arena had walked an absurdly easy request.
Staying on good terms with the women at the reception desk had finally paid off. All those casual cups of coffee had delivered him a whale of a client. A straightforward comprehensive legal service package worth 1.2 billion won a year. Requests like this did come in from time to time—usually from mid-sized companies or larger, or from private tycoons who found maintaining an in-house legal team burdensome. Even by those standards, 1.2 billion a year was a serious sum. It matched Kim Gyeongmin's own annual salary. On top of that, the client had offered to pay additional retainers on a per-case basis.
Kim Gyeongmin stared hard at the young man sitting across from him. Generously estimated, the kid was barely in his early twenties. His looks were striking enough to belong to some entertainment agency's newest star. The sheer presence that dominated the consultation room was something else entirely. Kim had interviewed countless clients over the years. Among them, only one type carried this particular aura: members of the family that ran the conglomerates forming the backbone of Korea's economy.
If his surname is Ha…
He couldn't shake the question. The family name alone had immediately brought Haryun Group to mind. Yet none of the Haryun Group family members were this young.
"Could you be more specific about what you're asking for?"
The client had mentioned conditions.
"The conditions are simple. In any legal dispute involving me or my direct lineal relatives, Cho & Jang is prohibited from dual representation. In short, just don't represent the other side."
That was only natural for a client. Dual representation—the firm had cleaned up a major internal mess over that very issue only a few years earlier.
"That will absolutely never happen."
"Please put it in the contract. Liquidated damages will be ten times the total contract value for the entire term, and jurisdiction will be either Korea or the United States—at my sole discretion as Party A."
"Th-the United States?"
"I'll be obtaining permanent residency soon."
"…"
Unexpectedly thorough. A faint, ominous chill brushed the back of Kim Gyeongmin's neck. But a hundred million won would be landing in his account every month. That was no small amount.
"The contract term is ten years going forward. Please note that as well."
Ten years—twelve billion won. The kind of figure you saw on major civil suits.
"…!!"
"If you can't accept the terms, I'll take my business elsewhere—"
"Attorney Ah! Add it to the contract."
"Yes, sir."
Losing a client like this would be an open admission of incompetence. Any colleague who heard the details would be green with envy at how sweet the deal was.
The young man slid a document across the table.
"My registered address."
It was a copy of his resident registration. Kim's eyes flicked over the page.
He only transferred the address today…
In modern Korea, a resident registration address was almost a second form of ID. The address registered today was Lotte Signiel.
Single-person household? What the hell—he's only nineteen?
The household consisted of one person. Legally he was an adult, but the residence was Lotte Signiel. Living alone wasn't strange in itself. What was almost unheard of in Korea was a nineteen-year-old occupying a unit of that caliber by himself.
Some conglomerate's illegitimate son? Or…
Kim Gyeongmin's mind spun through every possible explanation the clues offered.
"I'm engaged in the financial investment business."
"Pardon? What kind of—"
"The kind that's hot right now…"
"…"
Kim stared at the young client as if he'd been bewitched by a goblin.
"Crypto, by any chance?"
Ah Yura's eyes went round as she blurted the words like a startled cry.
She's got good instincts.
From the moment I first saw her, the light around her had been anything but ordinary. An intense, dense gold I had never encountered before. Deeper even than Lee Hyoju's, and Hyoju was a conglomerate family member herself. If Hyoju's light was 18-karat gold, Attorney Ah Yura's was pure 24-karat. Curiosity flooded me at that single sharp remark.
"C-crypto?"
Attorney Kim Gyeongmin asked in a tone that suggested he hadn't even considered the possibility. The older lawyer clearly had zero interest in crypto investing. He looked like someone who had never tasted that particular flavor.
"Yes."
No reason to hide it. I would need their help in the near future anyway.
"Ah… I see."
Kim let out a short breath of admiration and gave a vague nod, though his eyes still held a complicated mix of thoughts. Among the established elite, crypto investing was still regarded as the investment method of moths drawn to flame.
"I made a little more than the two of you are probably imagining."
I stated it proudly. Of course I could never reveal the exact return. When you wanted to boast without evidence, crypto was the perfect answer. Institutional bank accounts and stock portfolios could be peered into by the government. Overseas-exchange crypto, however…
"…"
Neither Kim nor Ah Yura offered any particular reply. Both looked busy running numbers inside their heads. A client willing to pay 1.2 billion a year for legal services—no, a walking cash cow who had come knocking of his own free will.
"We will provide the absolute best service possible!"
Kim Gyeongmin's voice had changed. In a world where money was power and money was justice, whether it came from crypto or from fraud made no difference to Cho & Jang—as long as the fees were large enough.
"I'll be counting on you. Going forward I'd also like advice on corporate mergers and acquisitions, e-business, and various forms of financial management."
In their eyes it must have sounded like the baseless future vision of a very young client. I understood. Those words should never come out of a kid my age.
"We will deliver services that fully align with Mr. Ha Taewoong's intentions."
His tone had grown even more formal. Unlike the beginning, Kim Gyeongmin's gaze had hardened with resolve.
"Whenever you need us, please call at any time that is convenient for you!"
He had clearly chosen his side.
"Speaking of which…"
My eyes turned to Attorney Ah Yura—the owner of that golden aura I had no intention of letting slip away.
"I'd like Attorney Ah Yura designated as my exclusive personal counsel."
"Understood."
Kim looked at Ah Yura.
"I will devote myself completely to assisting you."
Ah Yura smiled softly. For a moment the consultation room brightened. Looks aside, she was a lawyer who possessed golden talent as well.
"I look forward to working with you."
I extended my hand. She offered her soft hand in return.
The instant our eyes met, a spark leaped between us. A fresh, crisp apple blossom bloomed at the corners of her lips.