Chapter Text
The air in the Seoul High Court’s largest courtroom crackled with a tension thick enough to taste, a scent of old paper, polished wood, and impending doom clinging to every polished surface. At its epicentre stood Kim Taehyung, not merely a lawyer, but a force of nature draped in a bespoke charcoal suit that seemed to absorb and reflect the light in equal measure. His presence was not just a visual spectacle but an almost physical pressure, radiating from him like heat from a furnace. He moved with the predatory grace of a great cat, every step measured, every turn of his head imbued with an almost insolent confidence.
He was cross-examining the star witness for the prosecution in the high-profile ‘Lotus Group Embezzlement’ case – a meek-looking accountant named Mr. Han, whose carefully constructed testimony had, moments ago, appeared unshakeable. Taehyung, however, saw the cracks before anyone else even detected the tremor. His voice, a low, resonant baritone, was deceptively calm, a velvet glove over an iron fist.
“Mr. Han, Taehyung began, his gaze unwavering, piercing, “you testified that you personally verified the authenticity of every ledger entry. Is that correct?”
Mr. Han, already visibly sweating under the courtroom lights, dabbed his brow. “Yes, Mr. Kim. Absolutely."
Taehyung nodded slowly, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. “And you also stated, with equal conviction, that you were the sole individual with access to the master ledger software for the entire duration of the audited period, did you not?”
“That is… that is correct, sir.” Mr. Han’s voice faltered slightly.
Taehyung paused, letting the silence stretch, amplifying Mr. Han’s discomfort. He didn't need to shout; his quiet intensity was far more unsettling. He walked closer, his tall, lean frame dominating the witness box, making Mr. Han shrink further into his seat.
“Tell me, Mr. Han,” Taehyung’s voice dropped to a near whisper, it carried to every corner of the room, “how then, do you explain this?” He gestured to his junior associate, who promptly displayed on the large courtroom monitors a meticulously prepared slide. On it, a single line of code, highlighted in stark red, from a fragmented data log. “This code, Mr. Han, indicates a system override from an external IP address, precisely twelve minutes before the alleged ‘manual’ entry of the fraudulent transaction. An external IP address, Mr. Han, that trace analysis confirms belongs to a former Lotus Group IT consultant, who, by sheer coincidence, was fired by the defendant just three days prior to the alleged embezzlement. A consultant who, I might add, had a well-documented history of disgruntled behaviour and a gambling addiction that left him deep in debt.”
The courtroom buzzed. The opposing counsel sprang to their feet, sputtering objections, but Taehyung cut them off with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Your Honour,” he stated, his voice now rising, no longer a whisper but a commanding declaration, “the prosecution would have us believe my client, a man of impeccable reputation, meticulously planned this intricate scheme. Yet, their star witness, the man who claims sole access, cannot account for a blatant system breach that conveniently aligns with the defendant’s innocence and points directly to an external, highly motivated culprit. Mr. Han’s testimony, I submit, is not merely flawed; it is deliberately incomplete, possibly even a desperate attempt to protect a truly culpable party, or perhaps, he was simply too incompetent to notice such a glaring digital footprint.”
He turned back to Mr. Han, his eyes like chips of glacial ice. “So, Mr. Han, was it incompetence, or complicity? Which is it?”
Mr. Han’s face was ashen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He mumbled something incoherent, then stammered, “I… I don’t know. I… I saw nothing of the sort.”
“Precisely,” Taehyung purred, a victor’s smile finally gracing his lips. “You saw nothing, because you were either looking away, or you were never truly in control. Your testimony, Mr. Han, is a house of cards built on sand.”
The judge, a stern woman known for her keen intellect, peered down at Mr. Han with a look of extreme skepticism. The prosecution’s case had just imploded.
Hours later, the verdict was delivered: Not Guilty. A gasp rippled through the public gallery, swiftly followed by a clamour of camera flashes and reporters shouting questions. Taehyung, however, merely inclined his head, a gesture of almost dismissive acceptance. He had secured the impossible, dismantling a seemingly airtight case with surgical precision and a ruthless understanding of human weakness.
Outside the courtroom, a throng of journalists surged, microphones thrust forward. “Mr. Kim, another unprecedented victory! How do you do it?”
“By understanding that facts are malleable,” Taehyung replied, his voice calm, betraying no arrogance, only an underlying, rock-hard confidence. “And that narratives are more powerful than truth, and often, more persuasive.” He side-stepped a reporter, his gaze already scanning the street for his waiting car.
His exorbitant fees were legendary, often demanding seven figures upfront, non-refundable. His associates at ‘Kim, Lee & Partners’ – a firm he had personally sculpted into a powerhouse – both feared and revered him. They mimicked his sharp suits, his minimalist office décor, his almost frightening work ethic. They whispered stories of how he once drove a rival lawyer to a nervous breakdown during a particularly brutal cross-examination. Ethics, to Kim Taehyung, were not guiding principles but inconvenient obstacles, easily circumvented, reinterpreted, or simply bulldozed through. They were a weakness, a sentimental indulgence for those who couldn’t stomach the true cost of victory. And Taehyung always won. Always.
He slid into the back of his sleek black sedan, the tinted windows instantly cloistering him from the clamour of the city. He checked his phone. A new email. From Kang Jiwon. The formidable heiress of the ‘Aurora Scents’ perfume empire. His next case. A divorce. His lips curved into a slow, calculating smile. Another win awaited. And as always, the cost would be irrelevant, long as the prize was his.