Chapter 55
Only after checking all the urgent patients did the doctors begin Park Jincheol's detailed examination. His right arm, which had hit the ground first upon falling, was fractured, and there was a crack in his left arm as well. His leg had broken in the same spot once before, and it was fractured again there, while the other leg was fine. One rib was also cracked. Beyond that, there were bruises and abrasions from the fall. For a fall from that height, it was fortunate he hadn't sustained more severe injuries, but the hospital recommended admission for treatment.
His mother seemed to think it was for the best and agreed. She must have recalled how she'd worried about him going back to school and facing more violence while legal action was underway. It would count as medical leave anyway, and since it was less than a third of total class days, he wouldn't have to repeat the year. Even after all the checks were done and his father rushed in from a conference out of town, Jincheol still hadn't uttered a word.
"Ha, it's just so heartbreaking..."
Leaving the sleeping Jincheol with his father for a moment, his mother and I stepped out to the lounge. She looked deeply troubled. Jincheol had come home beaten up plenty of times before, but this was the first time he'd been hurt badly enough for long-term hospitalization. The homeroom teacher claimed he'd fallen while grabbing something, but everyone knew that didn't add up.
"I talked briefly with his dad earlier. If Lee Hyeokmin really did this to Jincheol... he agreed that even calling a school violence committee meeting wouldn't do any good."
She pressed her forehead wearily, looking pale after half a day of nonstop crying.
"His dad did some digging, apparently. In a situation like this, schools won't even convene the committee. And even if they do, no real discipline follows. You were right about everything, Lawyer Cha."
If the perpetrator doesn't face proper punishment, Jincheol's remaining school days will be pure hell—not something to enjoy, but to endure.
"Do you know anything about the homeroom teacher who stopped by earlier?"
"Not much. Since it's a private school, he said this is where he started teaching six years ago. He's in his thirties."
"What impression did you get when you first met him about Jincheol's case?"
"He was kind. He didn't seem annoyed even though we showed up out of the blue."
I hadn't gotten a bad vibe from the teacher either when we first met. Despite the sudden accident, he hadn't shirked responsibility, apologized at the right moment, and even scolded Jincheol for his cursing. But his firm claim that Jincheol had no issues at school nagged at me. If he'd endured violence like this, he'd been ostracized from the group for ages. Ostracism doesn't stop at isolation—subtle mocking in front of teachers, pointless embarrassments followed by snickers among themselves. A teacher with six years' experience should've picked up on that nuance.
Was he hiding it? Or had Lee Hyeokmin bullied Jincheol so meticulously that it never showed?
"Lawyer Cha."
"Yes."
"You think today's incident couldn't possibly have happened the way the homeroom teacher described, right? That's not just me being weird, is it?"
"In my personal opinion, it's suspicious. But the situation isn't clear yet, so there's nothing to judge now."
The one certain thing was that it wasn't some trivial matter at all. Someone might have pushed him, or there could have been another circumstance. Better to hear the teacher's explanation and Jincheol's side first before forming an opinion.
"...Anyway, even before this happened, I vowed those bastards who turned my Jincheol into this would pay somehow. Civil and criminal suits, right? I'll do it all to make sure he has a good school life. No matter why this occurred, we're pursuing legal action."
His mother gripped the receipt tightly as she spoke. If that's what the client wants, a lawyer's job is simply to help achieve the best outcome.
"Understood. We'll head back and discuss the best approach. If the homeroom teacher calls, please let us know."
We wrapped up and stood to leave. Ideally, we'd hear the full story from victim Jincheol himself, but that seemed impossible right now. Even his parents didn't know how to handle his screaming and cursing.
"Lawyer Cha, where to?"
"Home. Drop me at the office."
"Got it."
I got home, grabbed a quick bite, and sat at my desk. I methodically sorted out next steps in my mind. In cases with adult clients so far, hustling hard yielded results. But with a student victim, the difficulty spiked. Statements had to come from teachers or classmates, who would prioritize their jobs or daily school life over legal action. Even if they knew something, they'd likely stay silent. My ability only gave me personal insight—no legal weight.
Just report to the police right away?
The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I shook my head. Police involvement might broaden the investigation, but other issues would arise. Awareness of school violence was so low back then that cops would probably downplay it. They wouldn't tread carefully—straight to the classroom, asking in front of everyone if they'd seen Jincheol bullied. To students, teachers or the class kingpin they saw daily were scarier than police. Without ironclad punishment at the end, kids would stick with Lee Hyeokmin through the backlash, clamming up further while his parents ensured no nonsense from school or students.
That meant securing solid evidence before police handover, then filing charges. A guilty verdict would pave the way for civil suit—the optimal path.
The next day, I dove into case law and articles right after arriving at the office. School violence had led to legal action before, even if not publicized. A small article mentioned parents skipping the committee and police to go straight to a law firm. Gathering ironclad evidence via lawyers and filing criminal charges had yielded good results.
"The biggest worry is Lee Hyeokmin's dad being a public institution head. Even with solid evidence for criminal charges... police might not forward to prosecution, or it could die there."
"If the evidence is airtight, police have no choice but to pass it on. Prosecution's the real hurdle."
If Hyeokmin's father had prosecutorial ties, he could downplay it in trial. I couldn't intervene in criminal proceedings, so no guarantees.
"That's not our concern yet. Evidence first."
I turned from Kang Minjae back to my monitor. Hyeokmin's father's position bugged me too, but which institution mattered for gauging the threat. Worrying now would just stall us—foolish.
"Yes, Cha Juhan Law Office."
Kang Minjae snatched the ringing phone.
"Ah, yes. Jincheol's mom."
I looked up, and he switched to speaker.
"Yes, Lawyer Cha Juhan is listening too."
"The homeroom teacher just called. Said they were messing around, Jincheol's indoor shoes flew out the window, and he ran to grab them and fell. I'm just floored..."
If the shoes truly meant that much to Jincheol, it was plausible. But indoor shoes? Hard to buy.
"Have you spoken to Jincheol?"
"He won't talk. Really... mouth shut tight, nothing. I asked over and over if they were really just playing with shoes—nothing."
"Ma'am, if it's alright, may I come to the hospital room now?"
His violent outburst before might yield something usable with my ability. With nothing given and even the victim silent, we were stalled.
"Yes, please do."
I hung up and let out a long sigh. With Jincheol's fragile state, was forcing him to talk just to solve the case right? As I hesitated, Kang Minjae—jacket on, ready to go—looked at me.
"Lawyer, something wrong?"
"I know what needs doing to solve this, but not sure if I should."
He stared blankly.
"What're you planning?"
"Get Jincheol talking. Need to uncover something."
"...Will he open up? Even if he does, it'll just be violent outbursts."
"Exactly. Might harm him more. Maybe suggest psychological counseling. Could coax it out slowly."
Kang Minjae listened, then shook his head firmly.
"He'll refuse. From his view, it'll feel worse—like, 'What's wrong with me to need a shrink?'"
His tone was resolute. I looked up at him.
"What's your basis?"
"..."
He didn't answer but added quietly,
"Let's go anyway. We need answers."
Echoing me oddly, he grabbed my jacket from the rack and handed it over. He looked pensive.