Chapter Text
The courtroom lobby buzzed with tension. Junior lawyers shuffled papers, clients whispered nervously, and the faint echo of heels against polished marble announced the arrival of Chae Songhwa.
Songhwa, one of Korea’s top five female lawyers in property law, entered the room with her usual unshakable grace. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, her hair sleekly pulled back, she exuded the quiet authority of someone who seemed to have already won before the first word was spoken. Within the property law circuit, her reputation was untouchable. She is known as someone sharp, meticulous, and nearly impossible to outmaneuver in negotiations. Developers, businessmen, even government officials sought her counsel, knowing that with Songhwa on their side, victory was almost certain. And on the rare occasions she didn’t win, her clients still walked away with minimal—if not zero—liability.
This morning, she was representing Shinhwa Development, a client notorious for being both wealthy and ruthless. In the past forty years, Shinhwa had risen from a modest construction firm into one of Korea’s most powerful developers, completing over 120 large-scale projects across the nation. Their portfolio stretched from luxury high-rise condominiums in Seoul’s Gangnam district, to seaside resorts in Busan, sprawling mixed-use townships in Incheon, and even industrial complexes in Daegu and Gwangju. For decades, their projects had reshaped skylines and fueled urban expansion, earning them both admiration and resentment in equal measure.
Songhwa didn’t particularly like them, but the law was the law, and her job was to enforce it. The case today was straightforward: the defendant had defaulted on payments for a property unit, despite repeated notices. Legally, the developer had the upper hand.
What she didn’t expect was him.
“Counsel for the defendant has arrived,” one of the clerks announced.
Songhwa froze for just a second. Her eyes lifted from her case folder—and there he was. Lee Ikjun.
It had been nearly a decade since she last saw him in person, yet he hadn’t changed much. A sharp suit, that arrogant half-smile, and the same irritating confidence that once made him the center of attention at law school parties. He was one of Korea’s Top 5 criminal lawyers, celebrated for tearing apart prosecutors in high-profile cases.
But what was he doing here—in a property law case?
Ikjun adjusted his tie casually, his eyes sweeping over the room before landing squarely on her. For a brief moment, his smirk faltered. Then, with infuriating ease, it returned.
“Well,” he drawled, striding toward her table, “if it isn’t Chae Songhwa. The star of property law herself. I almost feel sorry for myself.”
Songhwa didn’t flinch. “Almost? You should entirely feel sorry for yourself. Property isn’t your playground, Atty. Lee.”
His smirk widened. “Oh, I’ll manage. My client deserves someone who’ll fight for him. Even if that means stepping into your territory.”
She narrowed her eyes, biting back the rush of memories that came uninvited. Back in law school, she and Ikjun had been inseparable—study partners who thrived on late-night debates in the library, coffee runs that turned into hours of laughter, and whispered encouragements before every exam. For a brief week, that closeness had tipped into something more; they had dated, young and reckless with the thrill of it. But just as quickly, it had ended. Ikjun, charming and restless, had chosen parties, distractions, and another girl over her. The heartbreak had been sharp, humiliating in a way that left scars she never admitted out loud.
After that, Songhwa had walked away—not just from him, but from their entire circle of friends. She built a new life with women she could trust, surrounding herself with friendships that grounded her and ambitions that never wavered. She had promised herself, quietly but firmly, that she would never give Ikjun the chance to wound her again.
And yet here he was.
“You always did enjoy fighting,” she said coolly, gathering her files. “But this time, Ikjun, you’ll lose. My client’s claim is solid.”
Ikjun’s expression hardened just briefly, before he chuckled under his breath. “We’ll see. I’ve taken on prosecutors who wanted to bury my client for life. Compared to them, a developer looks like a schoolyard bully.”
The pre-trial judge entered the chamber, cutting their stare-down short. Both lawyers shifted into professional mode instantly, but under the surface, the storm had already begun.
Songhwa laid out her arguments with surgical precision, citing the delinquency notices, the contract cancellation, and the legal precedents. Ikjun countered with fiery passion, meeting her logic with conviction and urgency. He painted the developer as a corporation that had failed its duty first, referencing the incomplete construction back in 2012, the buyer’s desperation, the unfairness of punishing someone who had already suffered.
Songhwa argued with the calm precision of logic, while Ikjun pulled at heartstrings with raw emotion.
But as the session ended, both knew this trial wasn’t just about ejectment or obligations. It was personal. A decade-old history neither had buried was about to resurface in the courtroom.
And only one of them would walk out victorious.