Chapter 29
"Aigoo, so tiring. Aigoo, aigoo."
Through the veranda, I could see Jang Taesik unnecessarily rubbing his shoulders as he shuffled into the office. The guy, dragging along two underlings, looked just like a debt-collecting yakuza boss from some shady loan shark outfit.
"Has the boss arrived?"
"Ah, yeah. Where's the prosecutor?"
"He's out on the veranda having a smoke. A client's coming soon, so he's reviewing the files."
Kang Minjae pointed at me, and Taesik and his two goons bent at ninety degrees in a bow. I gave a short nod and flipped to the last page of the documents.
In the meantime, Kang Minjae had stationed himself by the fridge, hitting them with his usual "What would you like to drink?"
"Prosecutor, I'm here."
"I just saw you."
I sat down at the consultation table where they were gathered, and Taesik scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.
"Prosecutor, we—"
"Lawyer."
"Pardon?"
"I'm a lawyer now. Lawyer."
"Ah, right. Yeah, anyway, Lawyer. We found that print shop, didn't we? They use it for scripts handed out to actors and such, and they send all their binding jobs there too. Even big print runs go their way."
Taesik plunked a memo pad down on the table with a proud thwack! It was the address of a small print shop not far from Blue Island Media.
Looking at the address, it was within the radius we'd called around. So why hadn't we found it?
"These bastards aren't listed online, so it was a real pain tracking them down. Give us some credit for that, yeah? Heh."
"Still, you found it quick."
I'd hoped to pin down the print shop before the client arrived today, but I hadn't actually expected it to happen. Back in my past life—around 2010 when I first met Taesik—he was reliable enough, but not this fast. At some point, he'd gotten fired up with a sense of mission to expose Wooshin Group's corruption, which sped him up, but it still took time to train him. What had lit the fire under him this time?
"'Cause you opened this office, Lawyer. So we figured, sign some kinda—what's it called? Mooyoo? Yeah, that thing—with us, toss some work our way, maybe some cash too. Gotta show you we're worth it, right? We're no fly-by-night outfit. The prosecutors hooked us up!"
"It's MOU, not mooyoo..."
Kang Minjae chimed in slyly, and Taesik shot him a glare.
"Nah, it's MO—that's 'mo,' right? Then U. Mooyoo."
"...You could at least say 'mow' and it'd sound halfway decent, boss. But come on, it's kinda embarrassing."
"Shut it! So, Lawyer, you gonna sign that M-O... whatever with us and team up for mutual growth, or what?"
"Depends on your work."
If they kept delivering like this, paying them properly was a given.
"Anyway. What else you got for us?"
"Kang, send Taesik the client's script."
Kang carefully asked for Taesik's email and fired it off. Taesik shot me a puzzled look.
"We need to check if they've printed that script before."
"...You said no getting caught by Blue Island Media?"
"Exactly."
"But how?"
"Figure it out. Nicely."
Even the goons huddled behind the sofa gawked at me in disbelief.
"You memorize the script, and if even a scrap turns up, you spot it, right?"
"...When was it printed?"
"Probably last year."
"They've probably tossed it by now."
"Maybe. Maybe not. That's why you're checking."
"...Fair enough, but—"
"You think a busy lawyer like me's gonna do that grunt work, Taesik?"
"No, sir. That's on me..."
This was division of labor. Everyone handling their specialty. That's how things moved smoothly and fast.
"Got it, then."
"Lawyer! Client! Client's here!"
Kang Minjae yelled after peeking out the office door. I glanced at their crew. The two goons in black suits were one thing, but Taesik's look would tank any credibility. An old person or someone frail might hyperventilate and end up in the hospital.
"You guys hide on the veranda first."
"Huh? Why?"
"Even Kang's spooked by you. You think a timid young woman won't freak?"
"..."
Taesik didn't argue—deep down he knew it was true—but he silently led his crew out to the veranda anyway. They crammed into the blind spot out of sight from inside. I casually shifted in my chair to block any view, and moments later, the client stepped in.
"Hello."
"Come on in. Have a seat here. What would you like to drink...?"
Kang Minjae slipped back into waiter mode. The client tilted her head at the empty cups on the table.
"Someone was here?"
"Ah, our investigator stopped by. Please, sit."
"Wow, you even have an investigator. Oh! I brought coffee. The cafe kid downstairs said you both like Americanos."
"Pardon? Who said?"
"The part-timer on the first floor?"
She meant Kim Yeonjun. Still the same old him.
"Anyway, thank you for taking my case."
"No need. We're grateful you trusted us right after we opened."
Kang Minjae, utterly transformed from his Taesik-mode self, answered politely. The client gave a small smile.
"What do you think our chances are? You took it because there's a good shot, right...?"
"Yes."
There was a shot. And Blue Island was a Wooshin affiliate. Two birds, but no need to spell it out.
"What makes you think we have an edge? I'd like to prep together if possible."
"The similarities are glaring, and we see strong dependency too. We're asking the investigator for more on the dependency angle."
"I thought dependency was solid. The email was received and confirmed, and the judges must've read it..."
The client murmured softly.
"You're not wrong. But they could claim server errors or it got missed in judging. That kills dependency. The big three in plagiarism trials: originality of the source work, dependency, substantial similarity. Dependency will be the key battleground. Heads up—substantial similarity is extremely tough to prove."
"So it might not be ruled similar?"
"Possible, but thorough digging on our end should nail it. Plus, the more similar, the bigger the compensation units they owe. We have to prove substantial similarity. And if dependency's ironclad, it makes pushing that easier. That's why we're hunting solid proof."
"...Sounds way harder than I thought. I've heard that a lot."
"First off, we learned Blue Island binds and distributes semifinalist entries from contests to staff and judges. Assuming yours made semis, it went through their bindery. We just tracked that bindery down."
"Didn't know they bound them. Impressive."
It was just a phone call, but no need to mention.
"The trick is what we dig up there. We'll document and send detailed reports as we go."
The client sighed. Kang Minjae sidled over to the printer and said to her,
"It'll be a rough road, but if you stay motivated, we can win. Secure everything before suing—makes evidence easier once filed. They'll destroy stuff if they know. Got time? Might drag on."
"Yeah. Aspiring writer—always working on manuscripts. Home or cafe. Not busy."
"Got it. Contract's set, so let's do one copy."
Kang Minjae smoothly slid a fresh contract from the printer in front of her. When did he even make that? I hadn't asked, but he handled essentials perfectly. Good hire.
"How much for the retainer?"
"I don't have much, so under five million... okay?"
"Ah, I see."
Kang Minjae sounded sympathetic, glancing at me. The client shrank a bit. "Too low?"
"Here's the deal. Retainer at three million."
"Lawyer!"
Kang Minjae grimaced like three mil for this case?
"Success fee: thirty percent of your compensation."
Past rulings: if ruled a remake of plaintiff's script, defendant pays about a third of the writer's fee. Jeong Hyejin's per-episode fee: forty million. Full 24 episodes: 960 million. Even at that, our thirty percent: about 320 million. But defendants include Blue Island too. Factor in their profits, and damages skyrocket. Full plagiarism? Even bigger. Your Distance from Me is raking in massive cash—domestic broadcasts, PPL, ads, VOD, OST: around 20 billion total, pure profit estimated at 10 billion. Win big, client hits jackpot overnight. Sure, all that was hers originally... but practically, maxing our cut of their haul is best.
"Sounds good."
Kang Minjae quickly added the clause and reprinted. The client signed without hesitation.
"What does Na Eun-seong ultimately want?"
I asked as she finished signing.
"Pardon?"
"When you decided to sue, how did you want compensation?"
"...At first, I just wanted my work back. Stolen."
She rolled her eyes, recalling.
"But similar cases? Mostly internet buzz, no trial. So..."
"Yes."
"I just want it known. This work is mine."
"No monetary compensation?"
"...Lying if I said no. I'd love to take Jeong Hyejin's fees and Blue Island's profits—all of it. But I know that's impossible."
"You want as much as possible, then."
"Yes."
Wanting money's fine. No one lives without it—not even monks or priests. Creators earn from creations; lawyers from cases. She's claiming her rights. Good she didn't say "I don't need money."
"Got it. We'll aim to take as much as we can. That's the goal."
"...Thank you, Lawyer. I'll wire the retainer now. Account number?"
"Here, Na Eun-seong. Use this."
Kang Minjae rattled off my business account quick. Unbeatable guy.
After wiring, Na Eun-seong left, urging calls anytime day or night if needed. The veranda door burst open, and the hulks tumbled out.
"Agh, legs numb!"
"My arms, boss!"
"You were stepping on my feet the whole time. Bro, ow ow."
"So what now, you idiots? What?!"
They devolved into head-smacks and collar-grabs. I waited till they calmed.
Taesik noticed my gaze, cleared his throat, and straightened up.
"Heard the client?"
"...Yes."
"Head to the print shop with her script. Same as always—"
"Yeah, Blue Island none the wiser."
Taesik cut in, then bowed and headed out.
"You think I can't find it?"
Before leaving, he turned and barked. Our eyes met. For a flash, his final look from my past life overlapped.
I smiled lightly.
"Nah. You will."
"..."
Taesik stared blankly, then bowed again.
"I'll call if anything turns up. Rest easy."
"Rest easy!"
They filed out, and silence fell. I leaned back with a sigh.
First civil trial. Can't blemish my perfect record.
"Time to move."