Chapter 6

Before I could even answer, Shin Seo-jun plopped his tray down across from me.

He had ordered the same oven-baked chicken gratin as me—of course. That was his favorite dish in the original story.

“…I was almost done eating.”

“Don’t worry, I eat pretty fast,” he said, smiling.

Even though I had clearly tried to brush him off, he didn’t budge, just dug his fork into the gratin and shoveled it into his mouth.

For someone with the noble, aristocratic looks of a medieval knight, his table manners were surprisingly casual.

“You’re Park Yoo-seung, right? I’m Shin Seo-jun—the guy who also answered in Criminal Law class earlier. I just wanted to say… your answer was really impressive.”

“Got lucky, that’s all.”

“I honestly thought the professor was just checking if we knew about defamation. Never imagined there’d be a second, hidden issue tucked inside. When you pointed it out, I realized I’d completely missed it. That’s what a genius looks like, huh?” He chuckled good-naturedly.

That was his signature move.

Seo-jun knew full well that he was admired, envied, and practically worshipped. He’d use that to his advantage—lowering himself, flattering others, and making them feel special.

‘Wow, someone like him acknowledges me!’ people would think. And just like that, they’d fall into his orbit.

And honestly? Even for me, it felt good.

I’d spent years watching this guy from behind a screen, jealous of him. Having him praise me to my face—it was exhilarating.

But I couldn’t let myself get caught.

“I’m busy, so just get to the point.”

“Oh? My bad.”

Even when I deliberately spoke rudely, Seo-jun didn’t flinch. He kept smiling.

To outsiders, he’d look like a saint. But I knew better.

Seo-jun wasn’t some perfect, righteous hero. Far from it.

“Yoo-seung.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What do you think makes a good lawyer?”

The way he looked at me—sharp, testing—was enough to make my heart skip.

‘…I know this question.’

He had asked this exact thing to Han Seol in the original story.

Seo-jun hadn’t come to law school just to study. He had a purpose. A secret mission that forced him to be here.

And everyone around him? Potential pawns for that purpose. He smiled, laughed, and acted like a friend—but he was evaluating who could be useful.

Get caught in his net, and you’d be dragged into the main plot. Murders, scandals, professors arrested… a suspense thriller I had no desire to take part in.

I had my own dream.

Becoming a prosecutor.

That goal alone was hard enough. I couldn’t afford distractions.

So I gave him the bluntest answer I could.

“Someone who’s good at law.”

“…And if that person uses their knowledge for unjust purposes?”

“Being good at law is justice.”

His eyebrow twitched. For the briefest moment, disappointment flickered across his face.

“…I see.”

Good. That was exactly what I wanted.

In the original, Han Seol had answered that a good lawyer was “someone who applies principles fairly to everyone.” That idealism had impressed Seo-jun, and she had ended up ensnared in his plans.

But me? I gave him nothing to grab onto.

Seo-jun barely said another word. He wolfed down his gratin at record speed, offered a curt “Thanks for the meal,” and left.

I had survived the encounter.

“…Hmph.”

Still, saying something like that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I wanted to be a prosecutor because I wanted the world to be fair.

That’s why I had dreamed that dream in the first place.

So to say, “Being good at law is justice”…

But it was true, in its own way.

Someone unjust couldn’t truly be “good at law.”
***

The results of the first test were posted.

Apparently, the professors had graded everything—multiple choice and essay answers running thousands of characters per student—in just a few days. Were all the faculty here monsters?

In the meantime, we had more classes: Civil Law, Criminal Law, Constitutional Law. Han Seol answered every professor’s questions flawlessly, earning our team plenty of points.

Even though our missing teammate still hadn’t shown up, she was covering for all three of us.

“Wow, Seo-jun’s first again?”

“Of course. He graduated top of his class from the Police Academy. He’s on another level.”

“And second is Han Seol. Seriously, she’s insane.”

I glanced over.

The results weren’t posted online or sent privately.

Instead, the law school had chosen a far more brutal method.

A giant sheet of paper taped to the hallway wall.

Rankings. From 1st to 150th. Every single student’s name, test score, and place—on full display.

1st – Shin Seo-jun
2nd – Han Seol
3rd – Jung Min-sik
…

And me?

139th – Park Yoo-seung.

Yeah.

Well, what did I expect?

I’d left the entire multiple-choice section blank.

It was impossible to score well that way. Honestly, the fact that I beat eleven people purely on my essay answers was almost an accomplishment.

“Oh, they posted the multiple-choice answer rates too?”

“Look at question 4—only 13% got it right. What was that one again?”

“Something about statute of limitations? I guessed that one too.”

They chatted, but I didn’t bother listening. I hadn’t even looked at the multiple-choice. I’d need to review them later with the textbooks.

“Wait, they even posted score distributions for the essays? These professors are hardcore.”

Sure enough, for all eight essay questions, the highest and lowest scores were listed.

“Look at essay question 8. Out of 20 points, one person scored 18. Everyone else got below 9.”

“So basically only one person wrote the right answer, and the rest was garbage.”

“What was question 8 again? Nothing seemed that hard…”

“Wasn’t it that case about fraud by a third party?”

“Yeah, but that was supposed to be straightforward! Was there a trick?”

The students debated furiously, but no one could agree on the answer.

Only one thing was certain.

That 18-point answer had to be Shin Seo-jun.

“Nope. Not me,” Seo-jun said calmly.

Everyone stared.

“I went to the professor for feedback. He showed me my essay and explained my mistakes. I only got 11 points on number 8.”

Gasps all around.

While the rest of us were gawking at the rankings, he was already getting direct critiques. No wonder he was top of the class.

But even he hadn’t gotten it right.

Naturally, people turned to Han Seol and Jung Min-sik. But neither of them had written the 18-point essay either.

“…Wait. Don’t tell me… it was you?” Han Seol asked, eyes narrowing at me.

“Nope.”

“…Right. What was I thinking.”

Actually, yeah. It was me.

But of course, I couldn’t admit that.

A guy ranked 139th, the only one to nail the hardest essay? That would raise too many eyebrows.

I’d already drawn enough suspicion once. I wasn’t about to do it again.

So I kept my mouth shut.

The fact remained:

I had bombed the first test.

Spectacularly.

Which meant I absolutely had to make up for it with the group projects and, most importantly, the second test at the end of Pre-Law.

The group work was fine—Han Seol was carrying us.

But the second test…

It covered the entire Civil Code and the General Part of Criminal Law. Less than two weeks to prepare.

Even the best students couldn’t possibly master it all.

But me? I needed top scores.

That meant one thing.

Study like my life depended on it.

I was just about to head back when—

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

A mocking voice came from behind me.

“The disgrace of the business school. Gwanak Mountain’s biggest loser. Park Yoo-seung himself.”

I turned. The face was familiar.

“And you are…?”

“Don’t play dumb! It’s me, Bae Hyun-jung!”

Ah. That name jogged my memory.

Another small-fry villain.

Unlike Park Yoo-seung, Bae Hyun-jung was actually a decent student, and he had a few more storylines before Seo-jun inevitably crushed him too.

But still—same fate in the end.

“Pathetic bastard. It’s ridiculous you even got into this law school!”

“Yet here I am.”

“Hah. Must’ve cheated your way in somehow.”

…Honestly, that sounded a little too believable.

Korea University’s law school only admitted the absolute best. The same was true of its real-world counterpart.

So how had the original author justified letting someone like Park Yoo-seung in? Probably just lazy writing.

When I didn’t reply, Hyun-jung’s face turned red.

“139th place? Ha! If I were you, I’d quit before humiliating myself further.”

“And you ranked…?”

“Thirty-seventh!”

“…Not bad.”

Mediocre by this school’s standards—but still, being 37th here meant you could realistically aim for a top law firm or a judicial clerkship.

“Of course. People like you are trash compared to me.”

He smirked smugly.

That was him in a nutshell.

Grovel before those above him, bully those he thought beneath him.

I couldn’t help myself.

“If you’re so great, why didn’t you answer earlier? You let a 139th-place guy steal the points right in front of you.”

“Y-you…!”

His face turned scarlet.

Because he knew I was right.

That day, nobody had answered the professor’s question—except Seo-jun and me.

Losing to Seo-jun was one thing. Everyone could accept that.

But me? That stung.

“Ha! Han Seol must’ve spoon-fed you the answer! No way you figured it out yourself!”

I leaned closer and whispered, “He just called you ‘Seol-ie.’ That sound familiar?”

“…Don’t you know? He hit on me in undergrad and got rejected. Still hasn’t gotten over it.”

So that was it.

The look on his face was priceless—like his insides were burning.

“Well, Seol-ie, you’ve got your hands full babysitting trash like him. Why not ditch him and join my study group instead—”

“Stop.”

Han Seol cut him off coldly.

“You’re mistaken. I’m not stuck with him. Sure, I’d have preferred a different teammate, but Yoo-seung has proved his worth. At least he’s pulled his weight.”

“…Didn’t expect you to defend me. I’m touched.”

Sure, her praise came with some qualifiers. But still.

“And for the record—you’re not the ‘different teammate’ I had in mind.”

That was a clean rejection.

Han Seol > Bae Hyun-jung, made official.

“…Trash. You’ve brainwashed her somehow.”

He clearly didn’t believe her.

“Just wait. Hiding behind Seol-ie’s skirt won’t save you for long.”

Grinding his teeth, Hyun-jung stormed off.

“Ugh. What a jerk,” Han Seol muttered, rolling her eyes.