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Chapter 43
“I admit that I reported in the wrong way. But it’s true—he really said he would kill me!”
The reporter shouted at the judge, her face a mixture of frustration and indignation.
“Witness, please calm down.”
“Your Honor, please allow me to ask additional questions of the witness.”
Lawyer Kim, who had been about to sit back down, turned once more toward the witness stand, seeing the reporter stubbornly refusing to yield. He intended to corner her completely, leaving her unable to speak further.
“Keep it brief.”
With the judge’s permission, Kim placed one hand on the witness stand and stared coldly at the reporter.
“Fine. Let’s assume, as you said, that the defendant actually made that statement. Then where is the recording? Even if your phone broke, these days it’s easy to recover files, isn’t it?”
“Well…”
“Tell me. Where is that file now?”
“…I lost it.”
A murmur ran through the courtroom at her words.
“Lost it? How?”
“Yesterday, on my way to get my phone repaired, I got sideswiped by a motorcycle.”
The reporter rubbed her still-sore right arm, wincing.
“Sideswiped? So you lost your bag… or it was stolen?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In an alley behind the small electronics shops near Jongno 3-ga.”
A sigh of regret escaped uncontrollably.
“But why go to such a remote place to get it repaired?”
“It’s a repair shop I usually go to.”
“To my knowledge, that back alley is known for selling illegal listening devices and spy cameras, and even performing illegal file recovery. Given that you go there often, I take it you regularly do illegal reporting like you did with our defendant, or are you frequently buying spy cameras and listening devices?”
Kim’s mocking tone made the reporter’s face flush red.
“Well, anyway, that’s not important right now. Did you report it?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did the police catch the culprit?”
“Not yet.”
“So the police must be investigating CCTV or witnesses now?”
“Well…”
The reporter swallowed hard, unable to continue.
“You’re not telling me there’s no witness or CCTV, are you?”
Kim raised a corner of his mouth and looked at the reporter.
“It’s a very quiet, remote alley…”
The reporter, already anticipating what Kim was about to say, lowered her head once more.
“Witness. Are you asking me to believe that? Did you really get sideswiped? Be honest now. As a journalist, why keep distorting the truth with such flimsy lies? Is getting a scoop really that important to you?”
Kim shouted furiously.
“Lies? Everything I’ve said is the truth.”
The reporter tried one last time to defend her truth.
But no matter what she said, she could no longer escape the “liar” frame that Kim had imposed.
“Enough. I don’t want to hear any more false excuses.”
“Hah—”
“This concludes the witness questioning.”
Kim ended the questioning, satisfied, while the reporter pounded her fists on her chest, breathing heavily.
Tae-joon’s face, watching this, also turned red.
The plan to pressure Seung-beom by calling the reporter as a witness had completely failed.
In the gallery, In-hye shook her head in disbelief.
“Unbelievable. Really.”
Who sideswiped the reporter’s bag—or rather, who ordered it—was obvious without a word.
At that moment, a message appeared on In-hye’s phone screen:
「Has the trial ended?」
“Defense, please give your closing argument.”
As the trial neared its end, it felt as if the scales of justice were already tipping in Seung-beom’s favor.
“Honorable Judge, as you have seen, the prosecution has presented no decisive evidence or credible testimony, relying solely on conjecture and unreliable witnesses to charge my client with murder.”
Kim glared at Tae-joon as he slowly approached the judge.
“This is clearly an abuse of public power and borders on a violation of human rights. We ask the court to make a wise judgment to prevent innocent citizens from being turned into murderers or heinous fraudsters, and to ensure that no more victims like my client will suffer injustice.”
Speaking now as if to conclude the trial, he addressed the judge with a commanding tone.
Seung-beom, observing him, felt waves of relief and satisfaction wash over him—it was a perfect victory.
“Prosecution, any final comments?”
“…Yes.”
Tae-joon pushed up his glasses nervously and rose heavily from his seat, but his anxious eyes remained fixed on the courtroom door.
At that moment—
Bang!
The courtroom door burst open, and Seong-jin, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, strode toward Tae-joon.
“Ha—ha—sorry I’m late. Please, here you go.”
Seong-jin handed the documents to Tae-joon with trembling hands.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Tae-joon finally exhaled in relief as he took the papers and shot a glare at Seung-beom across the courtroom.
“What is this?”
The judge, puzzled, looked between Tae-joon and Seong-jin.
“Sorry, the documents required for the trial arrived late.”
“Understood. Please continue.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Tae-joon bowed slightly to the judge, then suddenly picked up a sheet of paper from the desk and approached Seung-beom.
“Kim Seung-beom, could you just sign this?”
He extended the paper in front of Seung-beom, completely unexpected. Everyone, including Seung-beom, turned to Tae-joon in disbelief.
“What are you doing? Are you wasting time with nonsense? It won’t work. Your Honor, please stop the prosecution’s inappropriate actions.”
Kim raised his voice, veins bulging.
“Prosecution, what are you doing? If there are no further questions, return to your seat.”
“Sorry, Your Honor. I’m actually a fan of Kim Seung-beom. Kim Seung-beom, please sign this.”
Tae-joon ignored both the judge and Kim, holding the paper steadily in front of Seung-beom.
“Are you out of your mind? This is during a trial!”
Kim shouted, bewildered.
“…Hahaha. Alright. If that’s what you want, here you go.”
Seung-beom, who had been staring silently at Tae-joon, suddenly laughed and took the paper. He thought it was just a distraction, reaching into his jacket pocket to get a pen—but then his face went pale.
‘It’s not there.’
The same jacket he wore yesterday when meeting In-hye—everything untouched—but now one familiar thing was missing.
“My… where did it go?”
He dug into his jacket pockets, then even his pants pockets, frantically.
At that moment—
“Looking for this?”
“Why is… that there?”
Seung-beom’s eyes widened when he saw his shiny fountain pen in Tae-joon’s hand.
“Why do you have that? Give it back.”
Seung-beom lunged toward it, but Tae-joon stepped back, tilting it in the light.
“You must really cherish this, huh?”
“Give it ba—”
“Hey! Give it back now!”
Kim, holding Seung-beom back, shouted to calm him.
“I’d like to return it, but I don’t think I can.”
“What nonsense is this! Give it back!”
“Your Honor, we will submit this fountain pen as a critical murder weapon in the Hwang Jung-sik case.”
Before Kim could react, Tae-joon held the pen high, and the courtroom erupted at the mention of a murder weapon.
“Additionally, we submit the DNA, blood, and fingerprint analysis from the National Forensic Service on this pen as evidence.”
Tae-joon’s voice carried full confidence, like a final knockout punch.
“A murder weapon? That’s absurd!”
Kim ran toward Tae-joon, bewildered.
“The victim died from excessive bleeding due to a stab to the carotid artery with a sharp object, according to the forensic autopsy.”
“What does that have to do with a fountain pen?!”
“The wound on the victim’s neck is 2–3 cm long and 3–4 cm deep. According to additional forensic analysis, it is highly likely that the tip of this pen caused the injury. Check it yourself.”
Tae-joon held the report confidently in front of Kim.
“This is ridiculous…”
Kim’s eyes scanned the document rapidly, trying to comprehend it.
While Kim was distracted, Tae-joon slowly walked to the defendant’s seat, looked Seung-beom in the eyes, and slightly bowed.
“Now, why don’t you take off that mask?”
He whispered softly in Seung-beom’s ear, but Seung-beom remained silent, expressionless.
“This is just a possibility, isn’t it?”
If he gave in here, it was over. Kim shook the papers furiously.
“And now I have the evidence to prove that possibility right in my hands.”
Tae-joon turned back to Seung-beom, holding the pen high.
“What proof do you have that this pen belongs to our defendant?”
“Didn’t the defendant just ask for it, claiming it was his?”
Tae-joon smiled faintly at Seung-beom.
“But… where did this pen come from?”
Kim, flustered, tried to redirect his attack.
“Someone sent it to the police station.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just call him a righteous person who wants the truth to be revealed.”
At that moment, Seong-jin, sitting next to In-hye, let out a quiet laugh. Imagining Dong-chul suddenly turning into a righteous savior was too funny to hold in.
“Does the prosecutor not know Article 308-2 of the Criminal Procedure Act—illegally obtained evidence is inadmissible?”
Kim cited the law, pressing Tae-joon.
“I know that. And you must also know Article 218—items can be seized without a warrant if voluntarily submitted to police or judicial officers.”
Tae-joon countered with the same law.
Neither side would yield; the legal battle continued.
“Then show the evidence that the fountain pen was used as a murder weapon.”
Kim tried to maintain composure, refusing to concede Seung-beom’s innocence.
“That evidence is all in this envelope.”
Tae-joon shook the envelope of documents he had just received from Seong-jin.
“What’s in it?”
Kim couldn’t tear his eyes away from the envelope in Tae-joon’s hand.
“It’s the National Forensic Service report on blood, fingerprints, and DNA on the fountain pen.”
“Is this why you texted me earlier asking if the trial was over?”
In-hye asked, still watching Seong-jin catch his breath.
“Yes. I ran as fast as I could, heart pounding, worried I’d be late.”
Even as a national athlete, he had never run so desperately or nervously.
After all the twists and turns, he had delivered Seung-beom’s pen to Joo-chul, but the forensic results might take longer than expected.
Since the pen was crucial for the trial’s dramatic impact, Tae-joon insisted all evidence be collected and analyzed first. Seong-jin had promised to deliver the results afterward.
But plans are just plans.
Racing from the forensic lab to the courtroom at full speed, leaving the car unparked, Seong-jin had run as if his life depended on it.
“Have you checked the test results?”
In-hye, eyes still fixed on Seung-beom, looked worried.
“No. The prosecutor said he would check personally. But there’s nothing to see. He’s finished now.”
Seong-jin reassured In-hye not to worry.
“Good, but why do I feel so uneasy…”
In-hye couldn’t shake the feeling that Seung-beom still had a final trick hidden.
At that moment, Seong-jin’s phone vibrated. The screen showed [Yoon Forensic Officer].
“What’s this about? Just a moment.”
As Seong-jin stood to answer, ready to leave the courtroom—
“Hahaha… hahaha… hahaha.”
Seung-beom, sitting in the defendant’s seat, suddenly began laughing loudly.
