Chapter 162 [Truth]
I saw the words floating above his head and nearly burst out laughing.
It wasn't a bluff—the double ledgers really existed.
But I couldn't wrap my head around how a tax firm, not even an accounting firm, had produced double ledgers I knew nothing about. Tax firms usually cooked up double books for tax evasion. And who benefits from tax evasion? The taxpayer client, obviously.
But I'd never pocketed a single won from that. I'd paid every last penny exactly as the country demanded. I wasn't a tax accountant, but I had enough knowledge to verify if they were doing their jobs right. Unlike my previous life, I'd come into massive funds this time around, so I'd studied tax law to manage it properly. I'd checked every expense entry myself and calculated my exact tax liability down to the won. There might've been minor discrepancies, but it always came out even. This was blatant tampering.
"Mr. Cha Juhan. There's only one reason you're in this interrogation room right now. We're giving you a chance to secure your future. If you want even the slightest edge in court, confessing here is your best bet."
Choi Jonghyeon's prediction that they wouldn't go to such lengths just to frame me as a criminal had been dead wrong. They'd reached into tax firms too, and while I couldn't know the details of the deal, they'd fabricated double ledgers that never existed. They were putting far more effort into destroying me than I'd imagined.
"Let me say it again. The tax firm's double ledgers? Even if they exist—which is questionable—they have nothing to do with me."
Suppose the tax firm had somehow evaded my oversight and created them. Even stripping that away, it would be their fraud, not mine. I'd be the victim.
I'd have to dig into this deeply the moment the investigation wrapped. I needed to get out of here fast.
"So, about the speculation charges—do you think you have any defense there?"
"The Gyeonggi northern land purchase? My parents wanted to move to the countryside after retiring, and I wanted them close, so that's all it was. No other motive. Why else would I buy that much 'trash land,' as you put it, if it wasn't agricultural?"
I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't exactly say I'd invested based on info from my past life, could I? This was a world full of lies. If there was a God, He'd say this barely counted as one.
"So you're saying it was for speculation. Happens all the time. Everyone claims that—bought farmland, never dreamed it'd appreciate like that. But dig a little, and it turns out they got insider tips and bought for profit."
"I'm just an ordinary former junior prosecutor. What connections do I have to leak land development info? Bring the insiders here and confront them."
"So, are you farming it now?"
"Not directly yet, but I know there's already fields there. But with a 3 billion won appreciation? No need to farm. Better to sell. Thanks for the tip, Prosecutor."
Kim Dongsu let out a long sigh at my response.
"Fine. Hoo... Let's take a break. This is gonna drag on."
After a short rest, the interrogation resumed. About 15 hours had passed since the summons. News outlets called anything over 15 hours "intense grilling," so for a nobody like me charged with illegal speculation and tax evasion, this was excessive.
We'd had gukbap twice midway. It wasn't great, so I left some, but they kept me in the room without proper digestion breaks. I wasn't questioned every hour with the prosecutor. They'd clearly decided to hold me as long as legally possible—about four hours alone in the room. Probably to max out the clock before releasing me.
It was meant to rattle my nerves, and it worked to some extent. Ever since hearing about the tax firm's double ledgers, I'd itched to verify it myself. While I was stuck here, the media was no doubt running wild: double ledgers found, tax evasion confirmed.
"Prosecutor."
Someone entered the room then, handed Kim Dongsu a small memo, and left. Kim Dongsu checked it, scowled, and stormed out.
Usually, that meant one of two things: new info incoming, or orders from above.
"...Mr. Cha Juhan."
An hour later, Kim Dongsu returned, glaring irritably.
"Looks like you've got some powerful backing."
Powerful backing? The unexpected words furrowed my brow.
"What do you mean?"
"A nobody ex-junior prosecutor with no connections. You're a smooth liar."
Kim Dongsu snapped irritably. I still had no clue, which seemed to annoy him more.
"Investigation ends here. No point when you stonewall like this. We'll summon you again if needed."
He stormed out. I recalled the memo an hour ago. His talk of "backing" suggested orders from above to release me.
But I didn't know anyone in a position to issue that.
Feeling uneasy, I crossed the hallway.
"Sorry."
Lost in thought, I hadn't watched ahead and bumped into someone rushing by. I apologized, but he brushed past without a word—slipping a small note into my hand.
Attorney Cha Juhan.
Please contact: 011-XXX-XXXX
I whipped around, but he was long gone. Even in 2010, 011 numbers were archaic, rarely used.
I pocketed the note and headed out of the prosecutor's office to a quiet parking lot.
Was this my "backer"—the one who'd gotten me released? Questions swirled.
No point hesitating. I'd call and find out.