Chapter 182
Normally, when you open the door to a regular prosecutor's office and poke your head in, the clerk asks how they can help. Even for suspects, whose faces they've seen in photos during the investigation, real life doesn't always match the pictures. Unless it's the chief prosecutor, there's only one prosecutor per office, and the summons specifies a time, so you'd think they'd recognize you right away—but reality is different.
Surprisingly many people don't stick to the time on the summons, whether they show up early or late. But today's clerk naturally addressed Jo Bongjun with, "Mr. Jo Bongjun?" Her gaze lingered stubbornly on me. The deputy chief had mentioned earlier that word had spread about me taking the case, so she must have put two and two together.
"The prosecutor's stepped out for a moment. He'll be back soon. Have a seat and wait here."
The clerk guided us to the chairs in front of the prosecutor's desk, then bustled off again. It looked like cases had just been assigned; she was pulling thick stacks of documents from a cart like you'd see at a supermarket and piling them on the desk. Whenever clerks wheeled those carts through the doors, groans echoed from every office. I'd been one of those sighers myself.
As I drifted into old memories for a moment, the door opened and the prosecutor walked in.
"Ah, Mr. Jo Bongjun?"
Jeong Changyun fixed his gaze on Jo Bongjun as he sat at his desk. A faint whiff of cigarette smoke clung to him. The investigator who'd followed him in smelled the same, so they'd probably taken a break together. The summons time was exact, but here he was, ten minutes late for a smoke. Was this prosecutorial authority in action, or just the mindset that prosecutors could run a little behind?
"Mr. Jo Bongjun, in addition to the original charge of spreading false information, you've been hit with an additional complaint for obstruction of business. Myungwha Pharmaceuticals has requested consolidation of the cases, and we're proceeding that way. They claim they've suffered significant damage from your statements on that radio news program and your personal internet broadcasts."
Jeong Changyun pushed up his rimless glasses and recited the details in a businesslike tone. The usual formal procedures and Q&A followed.
"You could have sought a settlement, but it seems you chose not to, Mr. Jo."
"Yes, I have no intention of settling."
"Hmm. The fact that the case has come to the prosecution means we've preliminarily determined there's probable cause. You've brought a lawyer, so you've probably heard this already, but it could lead to criminal penalties. This isn't some typical dispute between small business owners—it's a direct complaint from the headquarters of a publicly listed company. If charges are filed and upheld, you might face a civil suit on top of that. And the damages Myungwha would claim? Astronomical."
His words were long-winded, but the message was clear: don't be stubborn—settle.
When Jo Bongjun didn't respond, Jeong Changyun glanced up at him sharply, as if prodding for an answer. Only then did Jo reply.
"I understand."
Jeong Changyun tilted his head, dissatisfied, and reached for his mouse. For a long stretch, the room filled with the rustle of flipping papers and keyboard clicks.
Even among prosecutors, attitudes toward suspects vary wildly, just like personalities. Some cozy up to coax confessions or settlements, others berate sternly, and types like Jeong Changyun stuck to cold bureaucracy. I watched him quietly. His expressionless face betrayed no emotion, and his eyes darted ceaselessly over documents, revealing nothing.
But that didn't mean he was neutral. Myungwha had surely submitted all sorts of materials already, yet after thirty minutes in his office, he hadn't even asked if we had anything to submit.
"Prosecutor. Among the elements for obstruction of business, the part applying to Mr. Jo is spreading false information—which ties into the defamation charge."
I broke the silence.
"Yes, and?"
"If we prove those facts aren't false, the obstruction charge gets dismissed, and the defamation flips to truth-telling."
Jeong Changyun turned from his monitor to look at me.
"That's for the prosecutor to decide. Did you bring proof?"
If he'd conducted the interview properly from the start, I wouldn't have spoken first. Instead of answering, I pulled a few files from my briefcase.
"The false information Myungwha claims Mr. Jo spread boils down to Antrozol Alpha being—"
"A drug with major side effects. Skip the obvious and get to the point. You know we're busy, Counselor."
I'm busy too. I could already sense his half-hearted desire to wrap this up sloppily.
"But these materials show that Myungwha knew about issues with the U.S. research institute they commissioned—before the MFDS review. That's one of the facts Mr. Jo disclosed, as Myungwha itself claims. Meaning it's not false."
One of the documents Kim Chan-young had secured through his uncle. Until now, it had been mere suspicion from Jo, without physical evidence.
"Myungwha never claimed the U.S. institute was problem-free. What does this prove? It might cover one piece of supposed falsehood, but the core issue is that Antrozol Alpha itself is defective. Shall we stick to the main point?"
That damn "main point" again.
"Prosecution records from the MFDS show no issues in clinical trials—"
"The MFDS isn't infallible. They can err. Moreover, the MFDS itself cited the problematic U.S. institute's Hyizolam study to approve it. Citizen groups are now filing for administrative review of the Antrozol Alpha approval. The MFDS hasn't 'confirmed' it's fine."
"Haa... Counselor, don't interrupt."
Authority complex confirmed. A childish power play: I can cut you off, but you can't me.
"Look, it's already clear Mr. Jo spoke on mere speculation without solid evidence. That's not just raising doubts—it's presenting them as fact. That's why I'm advising settlement."
"It was emphasis, not stating as fact. He raised substantial suspicions and called for investigation."
"Counselor, Mr. Jo is here under investigation for defamation and obstruction. If you want to argue the investigation's inadequacy, do it elsewhere. And records show you've reviewed and copied Myungwha's submissions—so Mr. Jo has seen them too?"
We'd done that right after the summons. Standard procedure to check the basis for filing.
Most of it detailed Myungwha's alleged damages: stock drops, image hit, even sales dips for other drugs. But that wasn't all.
"Myungwha claims they directly sent researchers to monitor the study, so the Hyizolam work couldn't be tainted. That's why the material you just gave—proving they knew of the institute's issues pre-clinicals—doesn't mean much."
"Look at the full file. The next one is the report on researcher Lee Jun-seong, whom Myungwha sent. Compared to the U.S.-published results, he wasn't there for oversight—he was there to import tech, as an observer. His presence proves nothing about Hyizolam."
Jeong Changyun flipped to the next file at my words. After poring over it for a while, he closed it. Signal to end the investigation.
I'd come for questioning, but it felt like trial. The prosecutor had no interest in facts—just dragging out the settle pitch. Whether Myungwha or Jeong himself wanted the deal, I couldn't say. But honestly, him taking orders from Myungwha would be preferable. If he dismissed it as "Myungwha seems clean, just settle," he'd drop charges before any real fact-check, closing the case.
Then Myungwha would go civil—or dirtier—to silence Jo. No point wasting more time here today. Better head back and dig into Jeong Changyun. Figure out his real endgame.
"Obviously, our country respects freedom of expression. Mr. Jo isn't a journalist, but he reported findings journalistically. He gains nothing personally. And on the stock forum where he first posted about Myungwha, he was already known for advising based on his knowledge. This is just an extension—public interest."
Suspects have to plead innocence in the office, so I wrapped it neatly. Fact-checking mattered more than no-charge dismissal; no need for a speech.
"I understand. We'll call if needed. Submit any more materials. We'll review these with the rest. Investigation concluded."
Jeong Changyun rushed to close. Jo bowed politely, and we left together.
"Fuck, that prosecutor's a real asshole. I wanted to flip the whole desk, but you kept shushing me—pinching my thigh like three thousand times."
Jo Bongjun stomped and vented the second we hit the car.
"That settlement bullshit. Bet Myungwha slipped him an envelope to push it."
"Better if that's it."
"...Worse than that?"
"A prosecutor wanting to force a settlement to close a messy case quick—that's the worst."
"Shit, yeah. Settle with Myungwha, and I'm gagged forever. So what, quit broadcasting?"
I shook my head.
"Settle and keep going like before? Fine. Double jeopardy on the same grounds. But they haven't filed civil yet—waiting on criminal outcome. Fake-settle then post more? Civil suit incoming."
"Hah, civil... Fuck it, let's do it."
"No. Civil's a time-sink grind. Massive claim means we can't slack prep."
"Could win civil, prove Myungwha's bullshit."
"Years in court. Public loses interest. Plan B only. We end this clean now."
"With that asshole prosecutor? No way."
"Find decisive proof. Even he can't ignore that."