It was all rather confounding. Setting the diary aside, Yi-soo delved into the lower drawer for a closer inspection. To her chagrin, she discovered no trace of a diary. She even subjected the bookshelf, which she had previously skimmed over, to a thorough scrutiny, but it yielded no sign of a hidden journal.
“What’s happening… seriously…” Yi-soo muttered to herself, her gaze returning to the photograph of Su-jeong in her hand. Her sister sat there, sipping coffee while gazing out at the scenery. What could possibly connect the victim to her sister? Suddenly, a sense of concern for Su-jeong’s safety washed over her.
“Please answer…” Yi-soo swiftly retrieved her phone and dialed Su-jeong’s number. After an automated message regarding international call charges, an endless ringing tone echoed through the receiver.
Could her sister’s disappearance somehow be connected to this death? Anxiety coursed through her veins, causing her hand to quiver. No matter how many times she tried, Su-jeong remained unresponsive to her calls.
Should she contact the police about Su-jeong’s disappearance now? What if the victim had been stalking her sister? A multitude of disquieting thoughts flooded her mind.
Yi-soo terminated the call and wiped her face, now devoid of moisture. Su-jeong’s voice, echoing like a haunting refrain, pierced her eardrums, “You mustn’t report it.”
***
“Great work today. What’s the special occasion? We had some heavyweight clients in and out. I got tired just watching.”
“You were just sitting there, not saying a word. What’s so tiring about that?”
“That’s exactly my point. You’re clueless, Attorney. But then again, the world’s not fair when you see how popular you are with the ladies. Is it all about having a handsome face?”
“Do you genuinely think it’s just about being handsome?”
It was now 6 PM. Hyun-seong, after wrapping up a series of back-to-back meetings, ascended to the 25th-floor office alongside Tae-jun. His tone carried a hint of jest, but deep down, he couldn’t deny feeling a touch fatigued for a Monday.
In response to Hyun-seong’s rhetorical question, Tae-jun arched an eyebrow. The issue lay in the fact that he was fully cognizant of his own excellence.
Upon shutting the office door behind him, Tae-jun instinctively pushed his glasses higher up his nose. He regarded Hyun-seong with a scrutinizing gaze, and inquired, “Planning to leave the office early again today?”
“Yeah,” Hyun-seong responded. “I’ve got something on my plate.”
Tae-jun’s brow furrowed slightly. “What’s the issue? You should be handling everything here. Lately, you’ve been making early exits a bit too frequently, haven’t you? The assistants have been grumbling about it.”
“By the way, Kang,” Hyun-seong interjected, leaning back in his chair. “Did you wrap up the task I assigned to you last time?”
“What task… Oh, the pro bono case?” Tae-jun recalled. “Yes, I believe the marketing and general affairs teams are currently discussing it.”
Hyun-seong settled into his chair, reflecting on the day after he had imbibed to the point of blacking out. He had entrusted Tae-jun with certain responsibilities, the core of which centered around the future trajectory of Yoon & Kang. The primary directive was to actively engage in handling more low-paying pro bono cases.
It was a common expectation for large law firms to take on pro bono cases, both as a governmental recommendation and a means to project themselves as not merely catering to the powerful.
In practice, however, most law firms sought to navigate pro bono cases with minimal effort, and it was widely acknowledged that they often turned a blind eye to the matter.
As an attorney at Yoon & Kang, Hyun-seong couldn’t completely evade representing clients accused of crimes. Nevertheless, he was resolute in forging a path toward expanding access to legal representation for those who lacked the means to afford it. He understood it wouldn’t be a swift transformation. Lawyers at Yoon & Kang were perpetually swamped, struggling to even secure six hours of sleep per day.
Though he couldn’t expect to revolutionize the ratio overnight, Hyun-seong recognized the importance of gradual change. With nothing unforeseen on the horizon, he was on track to eventually assume the role of Yoon & Kang’s next owner, and there were no overt objections to his aspirations.
“When the CEO wakes up later, he might suddenly throw a fit. Are you sure you’re prepared?” Secretary Kang inquired with a hint of concern.
“Since when did Secretary Kang start worrying about my father’s temper?” Hyun-seong countered. “Just leave it to me. I’ll handle it.”
“Is there anyone at Yoon & Kang who doesn’t fret over the CEO’s temper? You’re the one poised to be the next CEO, so you should heed his counsel,” Tae-jun chimed in, raising his head with an air of restraint. The secretary’s comment had a tinge of admonishment. Nonetheless, Hyun-seong paid it little heed. Their camaraderie had only spanned a few years.
Moreover, Tae-jun was adept at maintaining professional boundaries. Despite his occasional grumbling, he had never ventured into forbidden territory. This was one of the reasons Hyun-seong held him in such high regard.
“Well, I won’t press the matter. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Secretary Kang shrugged and closed the office door, his mood evidently buoyant as he hummed a tune, a sight that brought a wry smile to Hyun-seong’s lips. Chuckling softly, he glanced at the lock screen of his phone. It was time to pick up Seo Yi-soo.