Central District Prosecutors’ Office, Chief Prosecutor’s Office.
The quiet atmosphere filled only with the sounds of reviewing documents, drawing lines, and tapping keyboards was shattered by a thunderous roar.
“Seo Jaeha! What the hell are you doing?”
“Pardon?”
Unable to recall anything he’d done to deserve being cursed at out of nowhere, he stood still and asked back.
The Chief Prosecutor, unable to contain his fury, shot up from his seat.
“Didn’t you hear from Director Lee? Huh? I told you to handle the Kim Gilsu case quietly! Is this insubordination or what? You want me to make you quit being a prosecutor?”
Jaeha silently listened to the curses accompanied by finger-pointing. He’d known pressure would come eventually. But he hadn’t expected the Chief Prosecutor to come forward directly.
One month ago.
A truck driven by an intoxicated driver had been racing wildly down a vehicle-only road when it crossed the center line and crashed into an oncoming passenger car.
That incident sent ripples throughout Taeryoung Group, one of the largest conglomerates in the country.
The victim, who remained in intensive care in a coma, was none other than Kim Gilsu, president of Taeryoung Chemical, a core subsidiary of Taeryoung Group.
It started when the 119 emergency responders who arrived at the scene handed over Kim Gilsu’s belongings to his family. A briefcase had been found in the trunk, and a single notebook inside it caused an enormous stir.
‘Kim Gilsu’s Memo Book – Comprehensive List of Figures from All Walks of Life’
‘Essentially Taeryoung Group’s X-Files – President Kim Gilsu is Chairman Jung Taeho’s Right-Hand Man’
‘Will the Kim Gilsu Gate Extend to Political Circles?’
It started when the young child, shocked by their father’s sudden accident, posted the accident details online along with screenshot files. The gist of the highly emotional post was a conspiracy theory that Chairman Taeryoung was trying to eliminate their father.
“But why did this case come to us instead of the Special Division?”
“Because it’s a traffic accident.”
Director Lee Byungdo of Criminal Division 5 pursed his lips as if annoyed.
“The traffic accident is one thing, but isn’t the Kim Gilsu memo book case about chaebol corruption? It might even extend to political circles. It’s a Special Division case.”
“That’s why it came to us. When the higher-ups in our organization push forward saying it’s a Criminal Division 5 case, what can I say?”
Unlike the Special Division, which could conduct broad and deep investigations by handling specific cases one by one, Criminal Division 5 was already struggling to process the flood of general cases.
With limitations in human and material resources, when they were assigned complex and major cases, it inevitably led to shoddy investigations and hasty conclusions.
The message was clear: just go through the motions of investigating and wrap it up. Quietly, without any noise.
“You’re telling me to bury it.”
“That’s right.”
“First, call in Kim Gilsu’s daughter for questioning and have her take down the post. Taeryoung will provide generous consolation money. You know it’ll get troublesome if you insist on your prosecutor’s pride here, right?”
“I understand.”
Lee Byungdo, who feared being demoted more than anything, was afraid that going against the ‘higher-ups’ would cause unnecessary sparks to fly, so he dumped all the scary cases on Jaeha.
With a poker face, Jaeha bowed in greeting, received all the related materials, and returned to his office.
‘They told me to bury it, but I can’t just let a corruption case like this slide.’
Jaeha sat at his desk and opened the case file he’d received. His stiff poker face disappeared and a subtle smile emerged.
He had quietly conducted his own investigation into the Kim Gilsu case. He met with the victim’s family, heard their indignant account of events, and obtained a complete copy of the memo book.
X Month X Day. XX Korean Restaurant. Kim XX, Park XX. (1 box each)
X Month X Day. XX Japanese Restaurant. Choi XX, Go XX. (2 boxes each)
Dates and locations, along with names that the general public might forget but could easily find on various government agency and National Assembly websites with just a little interest.
What could the ‘boxes’ and ‘numbers’ signify?
The victim, known as ‘Taeryoung Man No. 1,’ was a loyal retainer of Jung Taeho, chairman of the major conglomerate Taeryoung Group. A list encompassing government VIPs and political and business heavyweights. It was reasonable enough to warrant suspicion.
“Proving quid pro quo is key.”
Even if those boxes were actual money boxes, a simple memo wasn’t sufficient evidence. It was also impossible to summon the owners of those prominent names just because they appeared in the memo book.
Even if Kim Gilsu miraculously recovered from his coma, the likelihood of him readily complying with a summons to testify was slim.
Considering the high profile and sensitivity of the matter, he’d been proceeding as quietly as possible, but it seemed word had finally reached the higher-ups’ ears.
“I deliberately assigned this to you because you’re a guy who doesn’t cause trouble and keeps quiet. Then you suddenly stab me in the back. Did you secretly take money from someone somewhere?”
It was unexpected that the Chief Prosecutor himself, bypassing his direct superior Director Lee, would yell and curse at Jaeha to his face.
Seeing how worked up he was, the Chief Prosecutor had clearly gotten an earful from some impossibly high-up person. From someone with connections to Taeryoung Group.
“You should at least consider the circumstances before taking money, you bastard. It’s Taeryoung, Taeryoung! Who did you conspire with to screw me over?”
“Nothing like that happened. I’m handling it as carefully as possible.”
“Carefully my ass! Drop it immediately with a no-charge disposition!”
“Then the media won’t stay quiet.”
“That’s not something a mere prosecutor like you needs to worry about!”
The Chief Prosecutor’s face turned red, but he didn’t know how to lower his voice. Just as Jaeha was thinking to himself that the man might pass out from getting so worked up, the Chief Prosecutor’s cell phone began loudly playing trot music.
“What? Don’t you know I’m busy right now… Ah, Director Jung.”
The Chief Prosecutor, who’d been about to continue his tirade, suddenly cleared his throat with a cough.
“Oh, I’m doing well. About those dinner show tickets you sent the other day. My father-in-law and mother-in-law were absolutely delighted. I got to play the good son-in-law for once. As expected, young people have good sense. Hehehe.”
Brimming with warmth, the Chief Prosecutor smiled broadly and laughed out loud. As the phone call showed signs of dragging on, Jaeha bowed his head slightly in greeting. The Chief Prosecutor, glancing sideways at him, waved his hand dismissively as if shooing away a fly.
“Mmm. I understand Director Jung’s position well. It’s being handled. Ah, the kid’s just naive and doesn’t get it. I’ve given him a good talking-to, so it’ll be properly handled soon. Mm, mm? What? Idol? Ah, the one that hit number one on Billboard? You have concert tickets? Of course I’d love them! Hahaha.”
Until Jaeha turned and left, the Chief Prosecutor didn’t give him a second glance.
Director Jung.
At this point, if there was someone named Jung who would call the Chief Prosecutor directly to check on the situation, they had to be someone related to Taeryoung.
Returning to his office, Jaeha searched ‘Taeryoung Director Jung’ on a search portal. A profile screen popped up immediately, like that of a celebrity.
Jung Kyungwoo.
31 years old.
The youngest son among Chairman Jung Taeho of Taeryoung’s one son and one daughter.
Resided in the United States since elementary school. Completed undergraduate studies in America and graduate school in Korea.
Chaebol families often deliberately sent their children to domestic private elementary schools to build connections. However, Jung Kyungwoo took exactly the opposite route. It was quite unusual since his parents weren’t divorced either.
In any case, after obtaining his domestic MBA, he built a career similar to other fourth-generation chaebols. After gaining experience rotating through subsidiaries at one-year intervals, he was recently promoted to Executive Director of Taeryoung Holdings, an unlisted company handling logistics between Taeryoung subsidiaries.
Aside from being mentioned a few times in economic news related to Taeryoung, there was nothing noteworthy. It meant his private life was quiet.
“Just looking at his face, he looks like he’d cause some trouble. Must have a good PR secretary team.”
In the photo, he was a sleek handsome man, but strangely lacked humanity. Whether it was due to photo editing, or because his eyes were rigid despite the slight curve of his lips.
The purpose of dragging out the Kim Gilsu case hadn’t been achieved yet. Given how much fuss the Chief Prosecutor made, there would surely be some bite soon.
Jaeha was just about to discard a worn-out highlighter, take out a new one, and open a thick case file when it happened.
Beep beep beep beep beep.
His cell phone rang. Looking at the screen, it was an unknown number.
“This is Prosecutor Seo Jaeha from the Central District Prosecutors’ Office.”
—Hello, Prosecutor Seo Jaeha.
“Who is this?”
He asked halfheartedly while quickly skimming through the thick documents.
—This is Jung Kyungwoo.
The line he was drawing stopped mid-way, unable to continue to the end.
The bite came much faster than expected. Jaeha tapped the documents behind his highlighter a few times, then leaned back leisurely.
His confidence in assuming that Jaeha would naturally know who he was just from stating his name was remarkable. Of course, he did know who he was.
“So who is Jung Kyungwoo-ssi?”
—You should know who I am.
“Is that so?”
—You must have something to discuss with me.
“I see.”
Jaeha’s poker face, which had remained unchanged throughout, wavered ever so slightly. The greed he’d kept hidden so carefully that no one had ever noticed surfaced faintly along with a thrill.
—Hello? Are you listening?
“Yes, go ahead.”
The faint smile disappeared back beneath his poker face as he responded to the person on the other end. Only an extremely businesslike voice resonated lowly.
