You Have Been Defended - Chapter 166
Ziiing.
The cellphone I'd left on the bedside table began to vibrate. I'd been sleeping deeply, so I barely managed to pry my eyelids open and glance around. It was still pitch black everywhere. I flipped the phone over and tried to go back to sleep.
Ziiing.
But the call that had come once wouldn't leave me alone. Frowning, I groped across the mattress until I found the phone and checked the screen. Unknown number.
By my internal clock, today was Saturday. This was the pre-dawn hour before Saturday morning. There was no reason for any urgent work call, and even if there was, it should've come from Kang Minjae or Manager Oh.
I'd stayed up late talking with Choi Jonghyeon yesterday—finally drifted off not long ago.
"Haaah."
I let out a long sigh and flipped open the phone to answer.
"Yes."
-Is this Lawyer Cha Juhan?
"Yes, it is."
-This is Gangnam Police Station.
"...And?"
-You need to come down here right now.
"What's this about?"
-Uh, Kang Minjae got into a scuffle at a club and he's here. He's completely wasted, total mess. Keeps insisting we call his lawyer, Cha Juhan, making a huge fuss.
"...I see."
-You coming now? How long till you get here?
"I'm not coming."
I cut the call short and decisively hung up.
A grown-ass lawyer picking a fight at a club and ending up at the station? Ridiculous. And even if it was true, why the hell appoint me as his lawyer?
Ah, better be a dream.
The phone rang a few more times. Behind the cop's irritated pleas for me to hurry, I caught intermittent shouting. Voices overlapping—not sure, but one sounded like Kang Minjae.
He liked nightlife, sure, but he wasn't the type to start fights. Must've been cornered. Sighing, I dragged myself up and got dressed.
It wasn't far from Seocho to Gangnam Police Station in the wee hours.
Scanning the interior, harsh yelling from the back drew my eyes.
There.
"Got the call. I'm his lawyer, Kang Minjae."
I flashed my ID to the cops and pushed through. Kang Minjae seemed solo; his opponents had a couple buddies—three at most.
Kang Minjae looked better than expected. Split lip, but his foes had worse—faces blotchy red, turning purple bruises by morning.
"Lawyer niiim."
Still slurring drunk, he spotted me and dragged his chair over like it was glued to him.
I watched silently, piecing it together. Opponents worse off, group vs. solo. Looked like Kang Minjae had pummeled them one-sidedly—but then what were their friends doing? Unless he was some 1-vs-3 brawl master. Or maybe they just watched.
"I swear... I did nothing wrong..."
He grabbed my T-shirt hem, stretching the fabric. I pried his hand off and shoved it aside.
"Why call me at this hour instead of Chief Kang?"
"Didn’t want Grandpa hearing from you..."
"What happened?"
"Ugh, real talk—I was chilling at my table in the club. No bothering anyone, just vibing solo. Then this guy comes up picking a fight outta nowhere. Figured with my job and all, I should hold back—told him quietly to beat it."
"Hey! When did you say that quietly? You told me to shut up and fuck off!"
The guy sprawled like a corpse in his chair suddenly yelled. Hostility flashed in Kang Minjae's eyes.
"I said beat it, but you wouldn't go!"
"Fuck, you started with the insults! Old fuck, go to a cabaret if you're past your prime—why're you even in a club?!"
"Cabaret? Ha, listen to this ignorant prick. You think you're gonna stay in your twenties forever? Thirties hit fast, asshole. I was in my twenties not long ago."
Worried it'd erupt again, I pressed Kang Minjae's shoulder down. His opponents weren't sober either—only me and the cops could mediate. The cop just looked exhausted, doing nothing.
"Enough. Stop fighting."
"Ah, this boomer prick is pissing me off."
"What'd you say? Calling our lawyer a boomer? Spoiled your whole life!"
"Fuck yeah, boomer. Look, he calls himself a lawyer but drags one in 'cause he's scared shitless. Hey, you lying? Fake lawyer ass? What kinda lawyer beats people?"
"When did I start it, you prick? You threw first punch! And you tripped solo—your buddies saw! Yo, friends—didn't you see? Huh? Slipped on spilled vodka, right?"
He yelled at their crew, but they were long passed out. Followed as "friends" but no loyalty— one even snoring through the chaos.
"Whatever—apologize for calling our lawyer a boomer!"
"Fuck no."
"You rude little shit, mff! Mff!"
I finally clamped Kang Minjae's mouth shut. Sober, he was immature enough—drunk, any trace vanished.
"Sorry, need to talk to him alone."
"Ugh, go ahead."
The cop, drained from refereeing, waved me off like hurry up and finish.
"Drink this first."
In the station's rear smoking area, I sat him on a bench and handed over the plastic bag—hangover cure from the drive-thru.
"...Lawyer, I'm touched."
He clutched it with both hands, gazing up. Should've stopped him going solo to the club.
He downed it in one go. Then...
"Ah, gonna puke."
"Swallow. This is a police station."
"Urk, for real..."
"Bathroom then."
"Ugh... held it."
He rubbed his chest. I pinched my forehead, sighing.
"Now explain. You said 'quietly beat it'—then what?"
"Said beat it quietly, but he barges to my table whining. Kept telling him go, ignored me—so finally, nice guy time's over, shut up and fuck off..."
"And?"
"...He swings first. 'You cursing me now?' like that."
"So you hit back?"
"Took one, laughed in shock. I held back, swear. They're kids, I'm the adult—can't stoop. Plus... thought of Grandpa, you... didn't want trouble on my account..."
His voice trailed off meekly.
"You knew that and still dragged me here? Couldn't settle at the precinct?"
"...Hear me out."
Visibly wronged, he gestured wildly recounting. Facts checked out: his "nicely fuck off" prompted their first punch—[Truth] hologram steady above his head.
They kept swinging; he shoved defensively. Floor had spilled vodka—right where he pushed. Guy slipped, grabbed table, toppled it. Ice bucket, bottles crashed on him—lucky no major injury.
Kang Minjae tried helping up; guy blamed him, swung again. Kang Minjae finally countered—cops arrived.
"So you got hit more?"
"Yeah. But table stuff wrecked him worse—looks like he got the raw end..."
He dry-washed his face, ranting. Got the picture. Neither badly hurt—settle with mutual agreement. Issue: opponents still wasted.
"Excuse me."
A unfamiliar voice from behind.
"Mind if I borrow a light?"
Glancing back, a guy in his mid-twenties stood there.
"..."
Familiar face. Pulled out my smokes, stared hard. Not this life—previous. Not in person—photo. Where?
Frowning, I racked my brain.
"Thanks."
He lit up from my lighter, handed it back politely with both hands. I still couldn't look away.
Handsome, but no celeb. If from before, tied to Wooshin. Who?
"Uh, something on my face?"
He smiled awkwardly under my gaze.
"No. Just reminded me of someone."
"Ah, gotcha."
Relaxed reply. He pulled his phone, dialed.
"Hello? Just got here. What? Who? Sober up. It's Kim Chan-young. Yeah. Haha, coming soon—wait up."
Kim Chan-young.
Clicked. First photo from before—he was in his thirties, mature. Not this baby-faced twenties look.
"Thanks for the light."
He bowed slightly and dashed inside. I tracked his retreating figure.
Never dreamed I'd meet him here.
"Lawyer?"
Kang Minjae eyed me curiously as I stared.
"Nothing. Situation clear—let's go."
Kim Chan-young. Go Sangjun's illegitimate son.