Chapter 48 Their Faces Were Ashen
Their faces had drained of color, turning an ashen blue. The reason Judge Kim Honggil might rule in their favor was that while the similarities between the works were blatant, there was no evidence of plagiarism. Circumstantially, it could be argued that Jeong Hyejin had written hers first, making plagiarism impossible to prove.
But now, the timeline had been clarified. Plagiarism was established, and the similarities were too glaring to ignore. Even if Judge Kim Honggil had been bought off, submitting this evidence would force his hand in our favor.
If proceedings reopened, we'd naturally reference every file on that USB. Jeong Hyejin wouldn't just have to explain The Distance Between You and Me—she'd face questions on four other works too, potentially dragging into an endless battle. If most of her catalog was exposed as plagiarism, Blue Island Media couldn't survive the fallout either. Jeong Hyejin would be finished as a writer.
"But if you agree to our terms, we're prepared to drop the charges."
No sooner had I finished than they exhaled in relief.
"...If you drop the charges, what about all those claims you made today?"
Yu Jeongwon asked. Her face was bloodless, lips bitten raw and glistening with blood.
"Dropping the charges buries your evidence tampering and other improprieties. People call that a settlement."
She nodded heavily.
"Name your conditions."
"First, pay the full amount claimed in our suit. Second, credit Na Eun-seong as co-author. We'll allow continued sales of The Distance Between You and Me, but remit 30% of quarterly profits to Na Eun-seong going forward."
"...What?"
The Blue Island Media CEO shot to his feet, incredulous. His face flushed purple, on the verge of clutching his neck and collapsing. Jeong Hyejin slumped against her chairback, hands over her face in a daze.
I stood.
"We'll head out. Take your time and let us know by Friday."
We were ready to fight like dogs or walk away with a fortune. Na Eun-seong felt the same.
Truth be told, dragging it to trial and winning wouldn't be hard. But the compensation would shrink to peanuts. Lawyers always demand more than sought in suits, negotiating down to the real target via court mediation.
This case was no different. 30% seemed steep, but precedents suggested it'd drop lower. Plagiarism convictions were rare in my research anyway. Given the judge's bias, we'd be lucky with a "remake" ruling—yielding just 30% payout.
Better for Na Eun-seong to co-author a blockbuster drama, pocket millions, and focus on her craft.
"Next case should be rolling in soon, right?"
Kang Minjae was already sipping imaginary soup, though we hadn't closed with Blue Island yet.
"We've got cleanup first."
Crediting her as co-author would paint Jeong Hyejin as admitting plagiarism via settlement. They knew it, so it wasn't an easy call. Still, better than five blockbusters branded stolen.
Money? They'd made plenty.
"This boosted our profile, but shouldn't we run some ads?"
"Ads?"
"We're small now, so one case at a time works. But firms handle multiples. No one's come since Na Eun-seong—bad PR?"
He rubbed his chin, brooding. Left alone, he'd push TV spots. I shook my head.
"Wait for their reply. Prep like we're reopening arguments. No slacking."
"...Got it."
He slumped, lips pursed.
"Lawyer."
"What."
"You a robot?"
"What're you on about?"
He adjusted his glasses sullenly.
"Feels like it. No emotions?"
"I got emotions."
"Not thrilled? Barely smiled finding evidence. Nailed Blue Island—still stone-faced."
"I was thrilled."
"That was thrilled?"
"Showed it."
"That was showing?"
His face lit with shock. I lost words, looked away. His gaze lingered, but I ignored it.
Next day, afternoon. Taesik barged in with his crew.
"Call ahead next time."
I'd been sipping coffee, awaiting Blue Island—now cooling.
"You never pick up. Texts ignored—so here I am!"
"Texts? Saw one about formula this morning—wrong number?"
I sank onto the sofa opposite him.
"No juice today?"
"Kang's out."
"Where'd your gumstick go?"
"Gumstick? Phone call."
"Anyway, not formula—breast milk. What's our breast milk deal?"
"MOU?"
"Yeah, that. No MOU? We'll bill this case separate—fair warning."
"Send the invoice."
"Who'd send if... Huh?"
"Send it."
He gaped, double-checking with his goons.
"Real money?"
"More work coming your way. Fair pay."
"...For real?"
"One condition."
I crossed arms, recalling our past life dealings. Using him as an informant drew flak for his thug vibe. Luckily, no priors, and working with me distanced him from crime. Minor stuff anyway—running a small info shop.
Still, caution this time.
"What?"
"Zero illegality. You, your crew—all."
"We don't!"
"No seotda either."
"That's not illegal!"
"No petty stuff. No violence. Act watched always."
He stared seriously. Rubbing his face, groaning, he looked up.
"Illegal parking?"
"Your call."
"Lawyer, this from quitting prosecution?"
Sharp as ever when it counted, despite usual dimness.
I hesitated. He saw me as benefactor—one of few I trusted till the end.
But too soon.
"That's—"
Office phone rang. I stepped to the desk.
"Cha Juhan."
-Yu Jeongwon.
Five-thirty. They'd agonized till near closing.
"Go ahead."
-Can we negotiate? Co-author credit first.
Exclude it? I'd figured they'd dread that most. Image-obsessed Jeong Hyejin had offered creation grants despite advantages.
I leaned on the desk.
"Non-negotiable."
Co-authorship mattered more than shares—it vindicated Na Eun-seong as original creator. Backroom cash alone missed the suit's point.
-I see. Then adjust shares? We pay Jeong Hyejin 15%. 10% to Na, 5% to her?
30% was inflated like damages—expecting haggling. 10% felt right.
I savored her humiliated tone.
"13%?"
-Cha, this ain't a market. We've burned enough energy.
A sigh. Had I overdone? Mild compared to her usual snark.
"Need client consult on ratio. So tell me your max."
-10%. Full 70% author fee to Jeong. On damages... CEO offers 50% of drama profits. More's unreasonable—you know.
Most settled by phone. 670 million (70% of Jeong's fee), 5 billion (50% of Blue Island's 10B profit), 10% future quarterly shares.
"We'll send the agreement."
-Understood.
"Bye."
-Cha. Never meet in court again. Goodbye.
She bit off the words, hung up. I eyed the receiver.
"Too harsh?"
Taesik, eavesdropping, piped up.
"Kinda dickish."