Chapter 39

After Yoo Jeongwon left, I stayed longer at Na Eun-seong's place to have a long talk with her. Even if she'd decided to trust me, Yoo Jeongwon's words must have left some lingering doubts, so some explanation was in order.

I'd talked about money and fame in front of Yoo Jeongwon, but I told her that wasn't the real reason. I briefly explained the circumstances that led me to take on Kim Yeonjun's case, why I hadn't done it pro bono, and the reason I'd stepped down from my prosecutor position. Of course, I didn't go into the details of my personal situation.

I reaffirmed that I was convinced of the plagiarism and that we were on her side. There's one thing clients worry about most when dealing with their lawyers: whether the lawyer truly believes them. I'd confirmed it with my ability, so there was no reason not to be on her side.

Kang Minjae was in the same camp—after cross-comparing the two scenarios, plagiarism was undeniable.

"...I understand what you're saying, Lawyer."

Na Eun-seong sighed.

"I'm sorry. I got swayed by that nonsense for no reason... I've just been making more work for you."

Tears began to creep into her voice. I sighed too. I hadn't meant to make her cry. But Na Eun-seong couldn't hold back her emotions and started weeping.

"Don't cry, Ms. Na."

I'm terrible at comforting crying people. That's why, in my past life, I could do nothing when my ex-wife cried in front of me. I just stared at her dumbly, rubbing my forehead.

"I, I didn't mean to, sob, sob."

"Ms. Na. No. If anything, I'm grateful that you trust me. I don't resent you at all, so please stop crying."

It was all sincere. I'd assigned someone to watch her precisely because I knew she was fragile, and that's why I'd rushed over. I worried that if I missed the timing, Yoo Jeongwon's wedge-driving might succeed.

But she didn't seem to see it that way.

"Lawyer, you're kinder than I thought, hic, sniff."

I handed her some tissues from the room, and she wiped her tears and blew her nose. Watching her, I patted my chest in relief. I have no idea what to do when emotions run high and someone cries in front of me.

"You're no good at comforting criers, are you?"

She asked. Damn, she'd seen right through me.

"Thank you, Lawyer."

Na Eun-seong smiled, her nose red. Ah... Looked like it was finally resolved.

A few days later, episodes 19 and 20 of Your Distance from Me aired. Just as we'd anticipated, they were newly shot with the revised script.

That's why I'd told Na Eun-seong not to release the script when she asked if she should. If she had, Jeong Hyejin's fans would've pointed to this and made a fuss: "See? It's different!"

A quick tour of a few sites showed discussions about unresolved plot threads, as expected. Some hardcore drama fans had theorized early on about certain hints, and now they were saying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the writer changed things forcibly mid-story, leaving those threads hanging.

But that wasn't the end of it. Netizens were split. Some sneered that it was a desperate revision to dodge the plagiarism accusations. The forums buzzed with plagiarism debates once more.

"Reactions are pretty good, right?"

"No."

"Huh? Why?"

Kang Minjae looked shocked. Netizen sentiment was splitting about 60-40 in favor of Na Eun-seong—at least among the active online crowd. But that was limited to vocal netizens. Your Distance from Me was a national hit. Mainstream opinion would likely lump it as "aspiring writers throwing tantrums out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jealousy over a success."

And sure enough, articles poured in proving it:

Even amid the plagiarism scandal, these articles flaunted how the show took zero damage. Of course, most were probably paid for by Blue Island Media, but casual web users would see them and think, "Oh, okay," and move on. That was the problem.

"I should tell Ms. Na not to look at online articles."

Kang Minjae sighed and headed to the balcony with his phone. Ten minutes later, he opened the door and waved at me.

"Lawyer, Ms. Na wants to talk to you."

These things usually got handled by Kang Minjae. Suddenly uneasy, I took the phone from him. Maybe she'd been hit harder than he could manage.

"I've switched. Cha Juhan speaking."

Na Eun-seong was brighter than expected—a relief, but something felt off.

"What's wrong?"

I handed the phone back to Kang Minjae, who looked puzzled.

"Ms. Na's reaction bad?"

"No, good."

"Then why the face?"

"......It's weird that it's good."

Kang Minjae laughed at my words.

"Then it's good! Why the serious look? Come on! Let's prep for trial! Quick, quick!"

We couldn't afford to waste time anyway—the answer brief had just arrived.

An utterly shameless answer brief. I started drafting the preparation brief.

The cards Yoo Jeongwon had flashed during our unofficial settlement meeting matched the attachments almost exactly. There were some additions: a new transcript of testimony from the PD who produced Your Distance from Me with Jeong Hyejin. And copies of her inspiration notes.

They described her visiting Iyang-gu Samchang-dong for inspiration, with a diary entry depicting the neighborhood scenery. Crucially, that diary predated the contest submission date.

"Probably fabricated."

I said, staring at the inspiration notes copy. Kang Minjae nodded.

"Plagiarism's obvious from the start—there's no way she saw it first."

"They flashed it confidently, so they must be sure the fabrication won't get caught."

I nodded too. As Yoo Jeongwon had boasted, she was a 10-year pro. A partner at Taegwang Law Firm, the monster firm of Korea. Making partner young proved her chops.

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was their play?

"We should head to Iyang-gu Samchang-dong first. Compare it, and if anything changed after, investigate the origins."

"I'll go. You'll be swamped drafting the prep brief."

Unlike oral arguments, prep briefs were a paper war. Nail them, and cases could end without even reaching trial. Not in a high-profile one like this, but still crucial.

"Go now."

"Got it. Praise me if I snag something!"

Kang Minjae seemed thirsty for my approval.

"Just snag something first."

Of course, there was one wildcard. If Taesik found Na Eun-seong's printout at the print shop, we might dodge trial altogether.

"......It matches."

Two days later, Kang Minjae returned. His voice was drained of energy.

"I went to the spot in Jeong Hyejin's notes and compared. Even the building positions line up. And get this—her note from that day mentions construction right next to a high-rise... Now it's just a normal shop. Checked it out: it was under construction then."

Kang Minjae clutched his head and slumped at the desk.

"What the hell? How'd they fake it?"

"Calm down."

"......Can't."

"We have her contest script anyway. We can hit them on similarity. Jeong Hyejin's copyright was after the contest, just before Na's. That's our angle."

"......It's not certain. Going into trial with that uncertainty, the anxiety of maybe losing—it's brutal. For Ms. Na too."

Somehow, I ended up consoling Kang Minjae. But I wasn't thrilled either.

Taesik had suggested giving up the search, but I hadn't. And with no progress, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trial date was set.

Now the main issue would shift from reliance to similarity.