Chapter 40
PM 1:30, Seoul Central District Court. Copyright infringement damages lawsuit argument hearing.
"Oh, Lawyer Cha."
On our way into the courthouse, as Kang Minjae and I reviewed our arguments, an unwelcome voice grated in my ear.
"Hello, Lawyer Kang."
It was Yoo Jeongwon. We'd arranged to meet Na Eun-seong inside the courthouse, and it seemed they had the same plan. She strode toward us with a single associate lawyer in tow, her heels clicking assertively with each step.
"Nice weather, isn't it?"
"It is."
"All set for the arguments? Must be nerve-wracking, your first civil case."
Her words carried the condescending tone of someone sizing up a rookie. I nearly snorted. She claimed ten years of experience, maybe even senior to me at the Judicial Research and Training Institute. But I had no intention of yielding an inch when it came to real-world savvy. Not as a former deputy chief prosecutor.
"Go easy on us, please. Haha."
Kang Minjae slipped between us with a laugh. Yoo Jeongwon eyed him with a peculiar expression.
"Lawyer Kang, after today's trial, you'll regret leaving Taegwang. Come back. The representative's still waiting for you."
"Pardon?"
Kang Minjae blinked in surprise.
"He said he's waiting."
Why would Yoon Wonhyeong, head of a mere mid-tier firm like Asso, be waiting for someone like Kang Minjae? I watched them impassively. There was some reason, no doubt, but it wasn't my business. I had no qualms admitting ignorance. Still, I didn't want to show it in front of her. She seemed to mistake such knowledge gaps for vast differences in competence.
"Haha, thanks. For a lowly associate like me to be awaited... Your words alone are gratitude enough. See you in court later. Our client's waiting. Let's go, Lawyer."
Kang Minjae unleashed a torrent of words, grabbed my hand, and dragged me into the courthouse. I followed reluctantly but shook off his grip once we were out of her sight. Brushing my hand, I fixed him with a look.
"Ah... When's Na Eun-seong getting here?"
He muttered awkwardly to himself.
"Don't ask."
"Huh?"
"I won't pry into your situation, so relax."
I ignored his flustered gaze and ran through the arguments once more. I knew he was hiding something. But he judged it harmless to me. And as long as it didn't hinder my revenge on Wooshin Group, I had no reason to discard a capable partner who got results. Besides, in my past life's memories—having dug into Wooshin, government officials, media outlets, and every chaebol tied to them—Kang Minjae never appeared. If he hadn't registered, he wasn't a player. And it was still too early for anything major anyway. Observation was the prudent call.
"Lawyer Cha!"
Na Eun-seong waved from afar as she approached.
"What're you doing?"
I asked Kang Minjae, who was still staring blankly at me.
"Huh?"
"Na Eun-seong's here."
"Ah... Right, yes! Na Eun-seong! You made it? No traffic on the way?"
* * *
"We believe the drama The Distance Between You and Me, produced by defendant Blue Island Media Co. and Jeong Hyejin, plagiarizes plaintiff Na Eun-seong's work Between Us. We demand payment of 7 billion won—70% of total profits—plus approximately 670 million won—70% of Jeong Hyejin's scriptwriting fees—for a total of about 7.67 billion won."
The trial began with Kang Minjae's confirmation of the claims.
"...These are just some of the many common elements in the setups. Is it possible for over twenty setup similarities to arise without basing it on the plaintiff's script? And that's not all. The content itself follows the plaintiff's script Between Us in defendant Jeong Hyejin's The Distance Between You and Me."
After tediously detailing the setup similarities, it was time for content parallels. Even the setups had eaten up too much time—I nearly smirked. If this wasn't plagiarism, what was? I'd seen countless cases, but none with such overwhelming similarities.
Kang Minjae moved the mouse, and episode summaries from both scripts appeared on screen.
"The incidents, emotional shifts, and conflicts the two protagonists face match in most episodes. Minor events differ slightly, but that's only natural. Identical content would be outright theft."
Jeong Hyejin's face twisted at my words. I wanted to lean in and ask if it stung, then check the hologram above her head. If she were a novelist, she'd have been caught copy-pasting verbatim. I moistened my throat with water and explained every content similarity on screen.
"Especially in episode 15, the dialogue between protagonist Seon Woo-jun and antagonist Director Kim features a beast called a 'Furyear.' It's a fictional animal, unique to the plaintiff, invented with traits tailored to the conversation. Yet it appears in the defendant's The Distance Between You and Me too—in the exact same context, with the identical traits."
They'd have seen it in our prepared documents anyway. I wondered what excuse they'd muster.
"Not only that. Both The Distance Between You and Me and Between Us share the setup where the protagonists live in the same neighborhood. This is crucial, so I'll emphasize it."
Kang Minjae, standing by the screen, displayed side-by-side: photos he'd taken visiting Iyang-gu's Samchang-dong, drama stills, and descriptive passages from Na Eun-seong's script.
"It's the same neighborhood, but one with a hillside slum coexisting alongside a wealthy enclave. From the slum, the rich area is visible at a glance. The heroine sits there drinking beer, lamenting her fate. Fences make it seem utterly unattainable. But it's not portrayed solely negatively."
Kang Minjae cleared the photos and loaded Na Eun-seong's episode summaries alongside drama directing captures. I continued.
"In the latter half, it stresses they're still neighbors despite it all—residents under one roof. CG erases those fences in a key scene. Living in the same neighborhood. Male lead in the rich area, heroine in the slum. Not unusual setups. But the symbolism? Rare. It highlights the plaintiff's originality."
As I sat, the judge called Yoo Jeongwon to speak. She straightened her stack of papers with a tap and began.
"'There is nothing new under the sun. Everything that could be said has been said.' Know what that means?"
Yoo Jeongwon launched her defense.
"And 'cliché'? Yes, commonplace tropes treated like public domain. The Distance Between You and Me has been called a clichéd crowd-pleaser by many viewers."
"The Distance Between You and Me is built on clichés. So is Between Us. Take the chaebol male lead and poor heroine. Classic Cinderella. Anyone into dramas could name twenty here."
Cliché dismissal. One of their few crutches. I met Yoo Jeongwon's gaze with a faint smile.
"Candy-girl heroine—righteous, kind, diligent, smart. Textbook. Her sibling's the opposite, too. Either a villain stirring trouble or seemingly bad but wounded for feels. No need for another pure character with the heroine there. And this drama's lighthearted sans backstory, so no crisis-makers. Hence the setup."
She pressed on relentlessly, jabbing her pen in the air.
"See? Identical setups breed inevitable scenes—what we call 'essential scenes.' Plaintiff's similarities? Just those."
Yoo Jeongwon beamed with satisfaction. The epitome of hubris. I shook my head slightly.
"Also, plaintiff's comparisons are reductive summaries. Episodes run 64 minutes—condense to sentences, details vanish."
Na Eun-seong trembled faintly, hiding her hands under the table, biting her lip. Her eyes flicked nervously to the defense, jolting away if caught.
"Na Eun-seong. Relax."
I whispered. She looked up, nodding vigorously.
Yoo Jeongwon droned on about detail differences in our summaries. Meaningless. I'd already nailed it: differing details meant theft, not distinction.
With her arguments done, examination of defendant Jeong Hyejin began. Basic questions first: Had she seen Na Eun-seong's script? Plagiarized? Why didn't it advance? She brazenly denied all.
"Defendant. Rumors swirl in broadcasting circles that when stuck, you use assistants' drafts or borrow fresh setups from contest entries lacking substance. Aware of this?"
"Your Honor! Plaintiff's counsel insults the defendant with unproven gossip! She's sensitive. Absurd!"
Yoo Jeongwon shot up, shouting.
"Plaintiff's counsel. Can you prove that statement?"
The judge asked.
"Yes. We request the former PD of SBC, who aired The Distance Between You and Me, as a witness."