Chapter 7 : Let’s win this case in style

“No way, Attorney Ahn. Do I really have to listen to this?”

It wasn’t even a lawyer presenting, but a secretary from a regional university giving a pitch.

Attorney Seo Il-hwa leaned back in the meeting room chair, speaking with a scoff.

“Ha, fine.”

“Was there anyone else willing to take on this case besides us?”

“There were a few, sure. But you’re the only one who brought something this solid.”

“Not me—Secretary Kim Yoo-hee.”

“Ha, Ahn Gyeong-hyun, you’re really something. No matter how good the materials are, you’re proudly admitting you brought a secretary’s work?”

“What’s wrong with that? You know as well as I do that Secretary Kim passed the first round of the bar exam.”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point.”

Attorney Seo Il-hwa glanced at me and swallowed the rest of his words.

LEE & YEON, one of South Korea’s top five law firms, isn’t a place where just anyone can make a name for themselves—not with mediocre bar exam scores or academic credentials.

And yet, here was a secretary—not just any secretary, but the only one at LEE & YEON from a regional university—presenting researched materials.

If I were Attorney Seo, I’d probably react the same way.

But because it was Seo Il-hwa, there was at least some room for discussion.

Why? Because he and Attorney Ahn were best friends.

There’s no way Ahn hadn’t mentioned me to him before.

“You know my situation, Seo. My performance is rock-bottom, so I can’t even use an associate.”

“Hey, why bring that up now?”

Attorney Seo looked flustered, glancing back and forth between me and Attorney Ahn.

“You’re not unaware that Yoo-hee here has been doing the work of an associate.”

“What, researching materials or organizing case law? Even my secretary could handle that much of a brief…”

“Could they?”

“…Probably not.”

“Exactly. Yoo-hee here can handle most associate-level tasks with ease.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.”

Seo raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“How about this, Seo? My win rate.”

“You’re pretty good… If we’re talking win rates alone, you’re probably in the top 20 at LEE & YEON, right?”

Though it’s only the unprofitable cases you take.

Attorney Seo muttered the last part under his breath, barely audible.

Among hundreds of lawyers, Attorney Ahn’s win rate was among the highest.

The implication was clear.

“And that’s something I achieved with Yoo-hee’s help.”

“Ha…”

“You know how it is. Unlike successful lawyers, secretaries don’t get anything beyond their salary.”

“True.”

For a lawyer like Ahn Gyeong-hyun, who’s at the bottom in terms of billable hours, there’s little he can offer.

Attorney Seo knew this all too well.

“And yet, Yoo-hee has been helping me out without sparing her own time. I don’t think she deserves to be dismissed like this.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll hear her out.”

Finally conceding, Attorney Seo adjusted his posture.

With a determined expression, I clicked the pointer connected to the projector, switching to the slides I’d prepared.

“As Attorney Ahn mentioned, the key issue in this case is whether benzene, a carcinogen, was intentionally added during the manufacturing process.”

“Hmm, true. Our client is adamant they’re innocent, but the fact remains that benzene was found in edible oil.”

“Yes, that’s correct. But please take a look at this.”

I advanced to the next slide, displaying the interrogation transcript of the suspect in this case—specifically, the statement of Ji Kang-guk, a director and the de facto factory operator.

“Anum Co., Ltd. sourced crude cottonseed oil from China and processed it in South Korea.”

Crude cottonseed oil, also known as cottonseed oil.

This was the raw material for the edible oil at the center of this case.

“The defendant, Ji Kang-guk, who oversees the refining process, has consistently claimed that benzene was not used in manufacturing.”

“Of course he’d say that. Admitting otherwise would be confessing to a crime.”

“Yes, Attorney Seo. Naturally, he’d claim that. But what about this?”

I moved to the next slide, showing a professor’s paper cited in a precedent involving a dispute over harmful substances in baby products.

“Hm, sure. Benzene can be present in volcanic eruptions or wildfires. Wait—benzene is in the air too?”

“Yes, exactly. Now, please look at this.”

The next slide showed a petition submitted by an industry acquaintance of the company’s CEO, another defendant in the case.

“It says using benzene as a solvent would increase costs.”

Attorney Seo spoke in terms used in court rulings.

Court rulings in South Korea could stand to be written more clearly.

Legal terminology aside, even simple language is often made unnecessarily complex.

Even I, with 22 years in the legal field until my “death,” found my head spinning while researching this case.

The barrage of unfamiliar food manufacturing terms and scientific knowledge was overwhelming.

Solvent.

It’s the substance used to dissolve raw materials in the process of turning cottonseeds into oil.

For non-food products, solvents like alcohol, benzene, ether, acetone, or turpentine are sometimes used.

The problematic substance here? Benzene.

“I paid close attention to this point. The statement was far too specific to be just a friend trying to help the CEO.”

“Go on.”

“Yes, Attorney Seo.”

Seo was now leaning toward me, a sign of genuine interest.

“From my review of the records and research, the only way benzene could have ended up in this oil is through the solvent used to dissolve the raw materials.”

Clear Literary Analysis:

I cleared my throat and pulled up a raw material trend chart I’d painstakingly sourced from the Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy.

“Look here. This is a price comparison table for normal hexane, which the defendants claim they used, and the problematic benzene.”

“What the—!”

Attorney Seo shot up from his seat.

I drove the point home.

“I plan to approach this case from three angles: legal interpretation, statements from industry peers, and scientific evidence from experts.”

“Experts?”

“Yes, Attorney Seo. This case requires consultation with a university professor—potentially even courtroom testimony if needed.”

“Hm, I might be able to pull some strings there. Maybe tap into our alumni network.”

The same Attorney Seo who had mocked the idea of a secretary giving a presentation was now rolling up his sleeves, fully engaged.

“This case may have a meager retainer, but the contingency fee is pretty hefty. If we pull this off, we’ll be sitting pretty.”

“How much is the retainer, exactly?”

“Twenty million won. Pretty low for a case of this scale, right?”

“Uh…”

“Hmm.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The retainer is proportional to the case’s scale, and this case, regardless of the sentence, involves a fine of 13 billion won.

From my experience in my past life, this is the kind of case that starts in the hundreds of millions.

But…

Both Attorney Ahn Gyeong-hyun and I were at a loss for words.

Why is Ahn at the bottom of the performance rankings?

Because cases worth even tens of millions are hard to come by for him.

“Well, it’s small, but let’s give it our all, shall we?”

I managed to break the silence first.

Saying something like, “Wow, that’s huge for us!” would only undermine both my and Attorney Ahn’s credibility.

No way we’re starting off on the back foot.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Let’s win this case in style.”

Attorney Ahn, as warm-hearted as he is perceptive, nodded vigorously.

“Then you’d better give us a generous split, Seo.”

And on top of that, he was meticulous enough to secure his share of the profits.

Our Attorney Ahn has changed.

“Of course. This is practically seen as an unwinnable case. If we can pull it off, I’d give you anything.”

“Great. Then we’ll take the highest split.”

“Uh, the highest split… Wait, what?”

The split varies depending on the case’s significance.

Attorney Ahn had just demanded the highest split rate at LEE & YEON.

“Then what’s left for me…?”

“If we lose, there’s no contingency fee anyway. You said yourself this case is tough. Even with the highest split, you’d still get more than the retainer.”

“Exactly, Attorney Ahn. Well said.”

“What is this, a two-person heist?”

Attorney Seo Il-hwa looked stunned, probably shocked by the boldness of his best friend, Ahn Gyeong-hyun.

Attorney, this is a case only we can handle, so you need to push for as much as possible.

Come on, he’s my friend.

How could I go that far?

You’ve got the Lee Chil-hong case to think about.

If your performance tanks again, you might have to drop it halfway.

I’ll take that case with me if I have to.

Wouldn’t it be better to handle it here? I really want to work on that case with you.

I was sincere.

This time, I truly wanted to save Lee Chil-hong.

But if Attorney Ahn gets sidelined due to poor performance, that won’t happen.

Sure, Ahn would probably take on the case even if he left LEE & YEON.

But could he, in his current situation, afford to set up an office in the capital region?

Even if he secured an office, could he cover the costs of maintaining it?

Alright, I get it.

In the end, I managed to convince him.

But the highest split? Attorney Ahn was bolder than I thought.

I nodded with a satisfied smile.

Heh, if this goes well, I might get a nice bonus too.

I wasn’t sure about grudges, but Attorney Ahn always repaid kindness faithfully, so he wouldn’t shortchange me.

Maybe I’ll pick up some beef on the way home tonight.

“We’re in for some late nights, Yoo-hee.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

Hmm, maybe I’ll save the beef for the weekend.

Somehow, even in this life, I couldn’t escape overtime.

Back at my desk, I loosened my wrists.

Attorney Ahn’s work wasn’t the only thing on my plate.

I had to catch up on tasks I’d put off during the presentation.

“Hey, you haven’t gone home yet?”

It was well past regular office hours.

I’d deliberately scheduled the presentation after 5 p.m. to avoid disrupting work.

But in my past life, I was always working late.

Which means they knew I’d be here at this hour and came by pretending to be surprised.

“Yes, Attorney.”

I looked up from my seat at Attorney Hyun Ah-jin, one of the lawyers I report to.

It was only natural to look up from my seated position, but knowing exactly why Hyun was here didn’t exactly put me in a great mood.

“Good timing, then. Can you organize this?”

Hyun dropped a file as thick as a book onto my desk with a thud.

“Our Secretary Kim is so capable, I’m sure you can handle it in no time, right?”

That smug smile was especially grating today.