Chapter Three

Hye-Jin stepped out of Sung Jin-Hun's office with her usual air of composure, her posture poised and her expression unreadable. Yet beneath the polished surface, the weight of the day lingered heavily on her shoulders, like an invisible chain she couldn't quite shake off.

The air inside the building felt stifling, thick with tension, as though even the walls bore witness to the chaos that played out behind closed doors.

She glanced at her watch — it was late enough. Without a second thought, she gathered her belongings, and as she crossed the threshold into the corridor, the steady click of her heels against the marble floor accompanied her thoughts, methodical and unyielding.

Outside the firm's glass doors, the city greeted her with its stridency— blaring car horns, distant chatter, and the rhythm of hurried footsteps. The crisp evening air wrapped around her like a quiet reprieve, a momentary pause from the suffocating opulence she'd left behind. Her steps were quick and purposeful, trench coat floating behind her as she navigated through the bustling city streets.

Neon sign after neon sign flickered to life as the evening crept closer, and the steady hum of traffic created a rhythmic backdrop as Hye-Jin made her way toward her destination — a quiet cafe tucked away from the chaos.

It wasn't just any meeting she was heading to; no, she was meeting Lee Ji-Soo, her late mentor and the one person who understood her with unerring precision.

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As she stepped into the cafe, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, a comforting contrast to the corporate sterility she'd just left behind.

It didn't take long for her to spot Ji-Soo. She always stood out, a figure of unapproachable elegance that seemed to command the room without effort.

She sat in the very heart of the cafe, a position that seemed almost symbolic—unapologetically central, where all eyes naturally gravitated.

Even sitting there with a cup of coffee cradled delicately in her hands, Ji-Soo exuded power. This wasn't the type of woman people approached lightly. And yet, her presence felt inescapable, commanding the energy of the room without lifting so much as a finger.

Her silver glasses caught the soft glow of the cafe's lights. Her pale complexion, adorned with dark red lips, were unmoving yet expressive enough to make anyone second-guess approaching her uninvited.

Sharp eyes that scanned her surroundings with an air of quiet authority. Despite the hum of conversation in the cafe, a curious hush seemed to settle around her. Patrons stole glances in her direction, their whispers a mix of awe and intimidation.

Hye-Jin paused for a moment, observing the scene before her. Ji-Soo had always had this effect on people — a magnetic presence that was equal parts admiration and fear. But to Hye-Jin, she wasn't just the commanding head of a rival law firm or the cunning strategist Sung Jin-Hun despised.

She was a mentor, an ally, and, in some ways, even a sister. Ji-Soo was an enigma, both magnetic and untouchable.

Hye-Jin had learned to pick up on all of this with a single glance by the woman herself.

Ji-Soo's calm, composed demeanor was a stark contrast to the quiet chaos she inspired in the people around her. But Hye-Jin wasn't just another bystander. To her, Ji-Soo wasn't intimidating; she was familiar. A force to be reckoned with, yes — but one Hye-Jin had learned to stand beside, not shrink away from.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way toward Ji-Soo's table, weaving through the cafe with practiced ease. As their eyes met, Ji-Soo offered a faint smile—subtle, composed, and entirely her.

Hye-Jin knew this meeting wouldn't just be a reprieve from her day; it would be a tactical exchange, a battle of wits veiled in polite conversation. And she was ready.

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Ji-Soo's sharp, dirty-grey eyes scanned the room with practiced precision before landing on Hye-Jin. She watched as the woman navigated the space effortlessly, her posture resolute, her steps purposeful.

Ji-Soo allowed herself a faint smile — subtle, composed, entirely hers. As Hye-Jin approached, Ji-Soo took another measured sip of her coffee, her dark red lips brushing against the rim of the cup. She inclined her head slightly, the gesture elegant but deliberate.

»Punctual as always, Hye-Jin,« Ji-Soo said, her voice calm and measured yet carrying a subtle edge. »I trust today hasn't drained all of your energy. We have much to discuss.«

Ji-Soo observed her companion closely. She saw the tension in Hye-Jin's posture, the flicker of exhaustion she tried to mask. Ji-Soo's words were more than a simple greeting—they were a statement, an expectation. For their relationship was built on a delicate balance of mutual respect and intellectual sparring.

Her words, though polite, held an undercurrent of expectation, as if she already anticipated Hye-Jin's sharp mind to be fully engaged. It was as much a greeting as it was a challenge, a reminder of the dynamic they shared. The constant push and pull, with the goal to reach greatness.

Hye-Jin slid into the seat across from Ji-Soo, setting her clipboard down on the table. For a moment, she let the coffee's aroma fill the air, grounding herself before diving into the reason for their meeting.

»It's another one of those cases,« Hye-Jin began, her tone calm but strained. She adjusted her posture, her icy-blue eyes flicking to Ji-Soo, who waited, sharp and unrelenting. »Kim Hyun-Ho, the defendant. The charges are human trafficking, enslavement, sexual offenses—the works. And his brother, Kim Joon-Ho, called me directly. He didn't even bother with decency. Just expected me to get his brother off the hook like it's just another day at the office.«

Ji-Soo tilted her head slightly, taking a calculated sip of her coffee. Her expression betrayed nothing, yet her mind raced, analyzing each word, each nuance. The details of the case unfolded — a tale of unspeakable crimes, of power abused, of morality suppressed by ambition. Her gaze remained locked on Hye-Jin, her expression unreadable but attentive. »Go on.«

»I spent the entire afternoon preparing the case materials, drafting strategies, and laying out the foundation for defending a man who is unequivocally guilty. It felt—« Hye-Jin hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Ji-Soo tilted her head slightly, urging her to continue. Her unrelenting focus was both a comfort and a challenge, a silent reminder of the standards she upheld. So Hye-Jin forced her thoughts out. »It felt wrong. It feels wrong. Every time I handle these cases, I wonder if I'm making a difference or just enabling more harm.«

Ji-Soo leaned back in her seat, her silver glasses catching the light. »And Sung Jin-Hun? What did he say?« The mention of Sung Jin-Hun elicited no outward reaction from Ji-Soo, though her thoughts darkened momentarily. She understood the system intimately — the way he twisted justice into a commodity. But as Hye-Jin confessed her discomfort, Ji-Soo's resolve only hardened. She recognized the spark within her colleague, the desire to fight against the tide.

Hye-Jin let out a short, bitter laugh. »What he always says. That it's just business. That it's not about morality — it's about winning. And as much as I hate it, he's not entirely wrong. He gets results. That's what the clients pay for.«

Ji-Soo nodded slowly, her sharp gaze never leaving Hye-Jin. »But you don't want him to win this time, do you?« Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

»No,« Hye-Jin admitted, her voice quiet but firm. »Kim Hyun-Ho doesn't deserve to walk free. Not after everything he's done. But how can I make peace with doing what's required of me when I know it's fundamentally wrong?«

For a moment, Ji-Soo said nothing. She set her coffee cup down with deliberate care before leaning forward, her voice soft but cutting. »You won't have to make peace with it, Hye-Jin.«

She saw the confusion in Hye-Jin's eyes, the unspoken questions swirling in her mind. Ji-Soo's faint smile returned, though it was tinged with something colder, sharper. Hye-Jin frowned slightly, the weight of Ji-Soo's words settling in. »What do you mean?«

Ji-Soo's lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. »Because I'm the prosecutor for this case. Kim Hyun-Ho is about to find out exactly what it means to face justice.«

The revelation hit Hye-Jin like a thunderclap, her icy-blue eyes widening in surprise. Ji-Soo's unwavering resolve and cunning intellect were suddenly thrown into sharp relief. Ji-Soo reveled in the shock that crossed Hye-Jin's face. It was rare to see her so vulnerable, so caught off guard.

But Ji-Soo's next words left no room for doubt.

»And you—« Ji-Soo added, her tone calm but commanding, »—are going to help me prove that justice isn't for sale. Not to Sung Jin-Hun, and certainly not to Kim Joon-Ho.«

Ji-Soo's gaze remained locked on Hye-Jin, unflinching, as if daring her to disagree.

At that moment, Hye-Jin knew the battle ahead would be fierce. But with Ji-Soo at her side, she was prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

And Ji-Soo knew she had won Hye-Jin over.

For justice, as far as she was concerned, was non-negotiable.