Chapter 126

It took nearly a month for the series of events to fully slip from my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands.

Iljungilbo insisted to the end that it wasn't the company's will and cut off its tail, but no one believed them.

The phone interview with the anonymous former Iljungilbo reporter on News 9 reignited the fire just days after the atmosphere seemed to be cooling.

The news bleeped out the company and party names as "B-Group" and "B-Party," but anyone watching could easily guess who they meant.

The Minwoo Party took a direct hit. Protests flooded not just their headquarters but also the offices of Minwoo Party lawmakers, accusing them of suppressing reporters and hiding scandals.

Phone numbers for Minwoo Party lawmakers' offices circulated online.

Soon after, the Minwoo Party issued a statement through their spokesperson: "We never made such demands of Iljungilbo, and this incident has nothing to do with us."

Of course, it fell on deaf ears.

As public outrage refused to subside, Iljungilbo announced an internal investigation to thoroughly check for other victims or perpetrators.

It was probably just empty words, but it was clear they'd taken a major blow. For a group that usually muddled through scandals by lying low until they blew over, even mentioning an internal probe was rare.

The only regret was that Wooshin Group emerged unscathed...

But that was unavoidable. The public had long grown numb to chaebols entangled in such messes.

That didn't mean trust in the Minwoo Party was strong—no, far from it. But with political criticism fair game, this mobilized those already skeptical of them.

I didn't expect this to deliver a knockout to Wooshin. Scratching Iljungilbo—their lapdog—and the Minwoo Party, long entangled in corruption, was enough.

Time to call it satisfaction.

"Cha, lawyer!"

Choi Jonghyeon, whom I hadn't seen in a while, looked utterly relieved as he entered the office, glancing at the empty desks.

"Everyone else gone home?"

"It's past 7 already."

He checked his watch and feigned surprise: "Already this late?"

We exchanged brief pleasantries and updates on the firm. It felt like the case was truly wrapping up.

"Oh, right. You've been wondering about Jeongu. He's doing much better now. He asked me to say hi when I mentioned seeing you today."

"Tell him I'm doing well. How's the Zolpidem addiction? Treatment going okay?"

"He's on the mend. Showing real grit."

"Good to hear."

Glad tidings amid the updates. We'd stopped the suicide, but the aftermath mattered more. We'd eliminated one motive, but family issues lingered—I couldn't fully relax.

"And we're hospitalizing Mom. I know a psychiatrist who pulled some strings to help. Apparently, schizophrenia patients don't need long inpatient stays."

I'd wondered why the Kim siblings hadn't institutionalized her sooner, but it was their private matter—no need to pry.

"I've received so much help from you, Cha, but haven't properly thanked you."

A brief silence fell, then Choi Jonghyeon scratched his neck awkwardly.

"Thank you. I don't know how to repay this kindness. Saving Jeongu, dealing with the editor... Without you, I can't even imagine the horror."

"Doesn't feel like I did that much. You did the heavy lifting."

"Nah, come on."

He waved it off. I'd never sought thanks from the start. I just wanted to avert the tragedy for my former colleague from my past life—and a key ally in this one.

Besides, taking down Wooshin wouldn't happen overnight. Better to start preparations early.

"Anyway, curious how the office vibe is now? Reporters backed you, but you did piss off management."

Choi Jonghyeon nodded slowly.

"Truth is, Iljungilbo has more than a couple reporters. Not everyone's on our side. Some resent me, and not all lean the same way."

He'd clearly agonized over it.

"What's your plan going forward?"

In my past life, I only knew he'd been fired after losing Kim Jeongu. No clue what came after avoiding that.

Curious. Back then, he'd wasted years as a wreck before teaming up with me on Wooshin. What now, with those years ahead?

"Quitting."

"...Quitting what?"

"Iljungilbo, obviously."

I had no intention of stopping him—he wouldn't listen anyway. His eyes burned with resolve.

"Submitted my resignation today."

His decisiveness was unmatched. I chuckled softly.

"Why laugh?"

"Just... so you."

"I'm a victim, sure, but I did stir up trouble. Disappointed in the company too. Can't keep working there."

"Got a new gig lined up?"

"Not yet. Big outfits won't touch me— who'd hire someone who dirtied their name?"

"Still, you could've shopped around. Places with different leanings might want you."

"Maybe, but..."

"Sounds like you've got other plans."

He nodded gravely.

"Time to go all-in on Wooshin and Lee Jeongchan. Election's in two years—need solid dirt by then. Same for Wooshin. Expose their ties within that timeframe? Perfect."

He met my gaze squarely.

"Now spill. Jeongu never told anyone about the editor's threats—or his depression. How'd you know to stop it? I've been racking my brain."

Back then, with no time, I'd barged in claiming Kim Jeongu would die—without details. Suspicious, sure. He'd tabled doubts to handle the crisis first.

"Got a tip."

"A tip?"

"Yeah. Can't say from whom."

Who'd believe it was past-life me?

"Reminds me—you said Publisher Park Hyosung orchestrated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Part of the tip?"

"Yes."

Pure guess on Park, but probably right. The editor was his loyal dog, and Park discarded people like yesterday's trash.

"And Angel's House? Tip too?"

"Yep."

"Weird."

He crossed his arms, staring me down.

"Why'd tips like that go to lawyer Cha Juhan? Not a reporter like me."

He sounded skeptical. Fair enough. My public image wasn't some Wooshin/Iljungilbo bloodhound. Righteous, maybe—but not a power challenger.

I stood and approached the large whiteboard on the wall.

"Not answering?"

Choi Jonghyeon followed with his eyes. From gushing thanks to interrogation mode—rude.

Instead of replying, I unhooked the board, flipped it, and rehung it.

"...What's this?"

He hadn't expected a wall-mounted board to be double-sided. Had to hide it from Kang Minjae, who plastered walls with clippings.

"As you see."

Wooshin Group's political-business web: connections, key figures, photos, incident summaries. For brainstorming.

I'd stare at it alone after Kang left.

"Why do you have this...?"

"Same goal as you. Been digging for ages."

Choi Jonghyeon scanned it intently, eyes lingering near Angel's House at the end.

"Nominee accounts? Linked to Wooshin via Angel's House? Wasn't chasing ghosts after all. They really exist..."

In my past life, he'd first touched Angel's House—four years from now. This intel was his, eventually.

"You don't know much about Angel's House yet."

"...Just sniffed it out. Didn't know what it was. Knew Go Sangjun donated for tax breaks—way more than the reported 1 billion yearly. Suspected nominees, but didn't dream it was real."

He caressed the photos, entranced.

"Director... Linked to Go Sangjun's wife?"

"She's a curator who worked under Hyun Hee-young at Wooshin Art Museum."

"Wooshin Museum?"

"Yes."

He blinked.

"Never heard that. Impressive, Cha. All this... alone? Or with the tipster?"

"Something like that."

"Why so vague?"

"If you were me, could you be straightforward? A lawyer knows more than a Wooshin/Minwoo specialist reporter popping up out of nowhere. You'd suspect me—maybe even think you're being played."

"Ugh."

He grunted, caught off-guard.

"Can't spill everything if you don't fully trust me yet. That's my source."

One regret since restarting this life: no 2018 files. By special prosecution time, we'd amassed tons—some legally iffy, but mostly legit courtroom gold.

Starting over felt daunting, but with Choi, doable. We were four years ahead.

"Better verify if I'm trustworthy yourself—actions over words. You've been too busy to dig into me."

"..."

"Investigate thoroughly. Figure out who I am. Won't be hard. Then we talk details."