Chapter 37
A week later, the portal main pages were plastered with articles about the dismissal of the broadcast ban injunction.
Even though it was a future we'd predicted, Na Eun-seong couldn't hide her anxiety.
Before filing the injunction, we'd emphasized multiple times that it would likely be dismissed. But she seemed to have clung to a faint hope that a broadcast ban might actually be granted.
Because of that, Kang Minjae had spent a lot of time tending to her emotional state. She found Minjae's gentle, affable demeanor more comforting than my straightforward style, so he was the perfect fit for the role.
I wondered if he felt like we were wasting a promising talent on grunt work, but in any trial, the client's emotions and resolve are paramount. And Minjae knew that well.
"At least Na Eun-seong's holding firm."
Kang Minjae said as he walked into the office. He'd met with her, shared a meal, briefed her on our future plans and the current public sentiment, and stressed that things weren't looking bad at all.
There were no ominous signs. I'd told Jang Taesik to assign someone to shadow her in case Blue Island Media tried to approach, but no such moves had been reported. The same went for Seong Minjeong.
Since we hadn't revealed our witnesses yet, it was expected, but you never know. Yoo Jeongwon would probably assume that if we picked an assistant writer for Jeong Hyejin as a witness, we'd go with Seong Minjeong, who'd completely left the drama industry. Even after explaining the risks to her, she'd insisted she was fine.
She'd visited the office once more afterward to go over her testimony again. There must have been more unsaid words lingering, as she vented her rage over sweets once more before leaving.
I won't say her departure left the office feeling like the desolate center of a battlefield strewn with fallen soldiers.
Her resolve was that fierce—I figured even without us asking, she'd have stormed the trial and spoken out on her own.
"No word from Taesik yet?"
I shook my head. Then I cross-checked the original script and the revised one that Taesik had sent over, confirming the changes once more.
In the original, a fire breaks out in the heroine's childhood home, killing her mother and wiping out the family fortune. That's when the passing hero saves her, sparking their redemption arc.
It's the episode where their past connection is revealed, alongside the origin of the heroine's trauma—matching Na Eun-seong's scenario perfectly.
But in the revised version, the hero is kidnapped by money-hungry thugs and locked in an abandoned house near where the heroine lives. She discovers him and saves him, twisting their past connection.
In Na Eun-seong's original, the heroine loses her memory from carbon monoxide poisoning in the blaze and fails to recognize the hero. But Jeong Hyejin's script hasn't yet explained why the heroine lost her memory, why her mother died, or why her father turned to alcoholism.
It seemed like a lazy plan to drop those plot threads—the so-called "hooks"—without resolution and barrel toward a happy ending. Dramas like that were a dime a dozen, so it wouldn't raise eyebrows if Jeong Hyejin left one unresolved.
"Judges assigned!"
As I mulled it over, Kang Minjae burst in from the doorway, clutching a registered letter from the court.
The key was the judge. But I doubted the assignment was fair...
Blue Island Media, a Wooshin Group affiliate and their golden goose drama building them buildings left and right—they wouldn't send their cash cow into battle unarmed.
"Who?"
"Chief Judge Kim Hong-gil. Assisting judges Han Ji-yeon and Lee Kyung-min. Know any of them?"
"Nope."
"I'll look into it."
I nodded gravely at Minjae's words.
"Focus on Chief Judge Kim Hong-gil."
The assistants were green; the final call rested with the chief. Grasping Kim Hong-gil's tendencies was crucial.
"Think we'll go to full trial?"
"If Taesik can't find a printout of Na Eun-seong's script, yeah."
To keep her mentally steady, we couldn't drag this out. She was enduring, not unscathed. That's why tracking the print history from the print shop was vital.
Otherwise, this case would stretch on.
* * *
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang. It had been an hour since they'd ordered delivery, so it was probably that.
Na Eun-seong opened the door.
"...Who are you?"
But the man at the door wasn't a delivery guy. She asked warily.
A man and woman in suits stood side by side, bowing politely to her.
"You're Na Eun-seong, right?"
The woman smiled as she asked. Na Eun-seong furrowed her brow, thinking. They'd said suited strangers asking directions were usually cult recruiters—but they wouldn't know her name.
Lawyer Cha Juhan's voice flashed through her mind. Kang Minjae had stressed it repeatedly too.
Na Eun-seong clenched her fists.
"Are you from Blue Island Media?"
"Ah, yes. Yoo Jeongwon from Taegwang Law Firm."
Yoo Jeongwon offered her card. But Na Eun-seong didn't take it.
"Talk to my lawyer."
"Oh, Na Eun-seong. That's actually what I wanted to discuss. You weren't there that day."
Yoo Jeongwon tucked her hair behind her ear with a gentle smile. She had a pleasant face, and being the same gender was meant to lower defenses.
Na Eun-seong eyed her and the associate lawyer behind with trembling eyes.
"Mind if we step inside? If you're uncomfortable with him, just me."
Yoo Jeongwon raised a single finger as if it were no big deal.
Na Eun-seong bit her lip.
"We made various offers that day, but since you weren't there, I don't know if they got through. And we talked a lot to clear up misunderstandings, but I'm not sure you know."
Na Eun-seong rolled her eyes at Yoo Jeongwon's words. She'd heard about the 300 million won offer from Blue Island. Cha Juhan had told her to reject even a billion, so he hadn't mishandled it.
But she'd never heard about any words that could clear misunderstandings. It wasn't a misunderstanding anyway—it was all Jeong Hyejin's fault.
"And personally, I'm curious if you looked into Cha Juhan thoroughly before hiring him."
Na Eun-seong's eyes widened in shock.
"What do you mean?"
As the usually silent woman responded, Yoo Jeongwon smiled triumphantly.
"You know Cha Juhan has barely any experience as a lawyer, right? This is only his second case."
"I know! But he's a former prosecutor,"
"Then you know he was in criminal division? This is his first copyright case. I'm a copyright specialist."
Yoo Jeongwon stepped slowly toward the doorway.
"That's why, when we met for settlement that day, he was so rude. I was shocked."
"What do you...?"
"I worry you're wasting money and time being led by someone like that..."
As Yoo Jeongwon trailed off, the momentarily dazed Na Eun-seong shook her head vigorously.
"If you're trying to drive a wedge, don't. I'm not that gullible!"
"Na Eun-seong. If it were, I wouldn't be here. Can't we just win in court? I'm confident."
Yoo Jeongwon said firmly.
"Do you know Cha Juhan's reputation in legal circles? It's a dirty habit, but... you know how hard it is to win if a judge takes a dislike to your lawyer."
Yoo Jeongwon pulled a printout of legal community posts about Cha Juhan from her bag.
Legal forum posts criticizing Cha Juhan
"Take a slow look. Then let's talk more. We're Jeong Hyejin's lawyers, but our duty is to ensure plaintiffs and defendants pay and receive what's due for their actions. We're not blindly on her side. Our goal is truth—and consequences accordingly."
Before she knew it, Na Eun-seong was absorbed in reading the printouts.
"...I won't believe this crap."
As she crumpled the paper, Yoo Jeongwon sighed.
"Haven't you noticed Cha Juhan chases fame only?"
Yoo Jeongwon glanced around Na Eun-seong's place. A tiny studio, with basic option furniture. She didn't seem wealthy, so lawyer fees must be key for such a big case.
Yoo Jeongwon met her eyes.
"Didn't Cha Juhan charge you too little? Understanding you couldn't pay much?"
"..."
"Na Eun-seong. Even green lawyers charge big for cases like this. Cha Juhan isn't a philanthropist... Isn't it weird he'd take so little?"
Na Eun-seong couldn't respond. He'd said 5 million won, then cut it to 3 million. He had asked for success fees, but...
"If he loved charity that much, he'd do pro bono or public defense. He doesn't. Weird, right?"
"Th-that's..."
Gazing at the confused Na Eun-seong, Yoo Jeongwon signaled her associate to leave. Then she stepped inside and closed the door.
"Fuck."
Sanggil, watching from the emergency stairs outside her apartment, yanked out his phone.
He rapidly typed a message.