JERS 04

CHAPTER 04

Who Is Cha Eun-young? (3)

Once I decided to meet that uncle in person, I immediately found his number in the contacts list and called.

He’s the slippery type — if I give him any warning, he’ll just vanish. Better move first.

A few seconds later, a lazy, half-annoyed male voice answered.

“Hey, when you call an elder, you should at least text first—”

If I’d texted first, he’d have realized what was going on and disappeared. Why give him that chance?

I instantly switched into a trembling, tearful voice.

“S-sniff… Uncle, I… sniff… I’m just… I can’t handle it anymore…”

The fake sobs had the intended effect — he panicked.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-I can’t really say over the phone… sniff… Could I please come talk in person…?”

I dangled the bait — made it sound like something huge had happened.

“What is it? Tell me what’s going on!”

He asked again and again, but I only kept crying and saying I needed to see him face to face.

“Hah… Fine, fine, just stop crying and—”

Before he could change his mind, I jumped on the opening.

“Ah, so you’re home now? Great, I’ll be right there.”

“Wait, what—?”

I hung up before he could finish.

I already knew he was home — I’d seen his shadow in the window.

Turning to the man standing next to me, I said,

“Looks like he’ll open the door for us.”

The middle-aged man smiled faintly.

“Good. At least we’ve confirmed he’s home.”

He was Attorney Kim Jung-won — one of the lawyers who had once fought beside me, back when I was still Yoo Jin-heon, in that long legal battle against the corrupt agency.
A smart, sharp-tongued man, and someone I trusted completely.

After deciding I needed to reclaim the compensation and inheritance that should have gone to Eun-young, I’d reached out to him.

“Hello, Attorney Kim. You may not remember me — I was one of the students Mr. Yoo helped. He said I could contact you if I ever needed legal help…”

He’d agreed immediately — practically pro bono.

“Poor kid… You’ve been through too much at your age.”

If the real Cha Eun-young had had even one adult like this by her side, maybe she wouldn’t have ended her life.

***

We went up to the apartment and knocked.
A moment later, her uncle appeared — wearing pajamas, unshaven, and clearly unemployed.

“What the hell’s this about, huh?”

Attorney Kim’s expression flickered for an instant.

“And who’s this guy?” the uncle asked, frowning at my companion.

“This is Attorney Kim Jung-won,” I said calmly. “I asked for his help with something important, and he kindly came with me today.”

“Help? With what?”

He was already sensing trouble. He grabbed the door handle to shut it — but I blocked it with my foot and pushed back.

“Let’s just talk inside.”

Exactly as planned. I wasn’t giving him the chance to run. His face was already turning pale.

***

Once inside, Attorney Kim took over.
He was a professional — smooth, methodical, and utterly relentless.

For years, this man had probably sweet-talked a grieving girl, making excuses for why he couldn’t “release the money yet.”
But now, with a lawyer sitting across from him, he couldn’t hide behind lies.

“In summary,” Attorney Kim said evenly, “you’ll return the full amount of the compensation and inheritance you were entrusted to manage.”

The uncle’s eyes bulged.

“W-wait a second! You can’t just show up out of nowhere and demand money! I never said I wouldn’t pay!”

He puffed up, trying to sound offended.

“Unbelievable! How can you accuse your own uncle like this? You think I’m a thief?”

If he wanted to act righteous, he should’ve lived righteously.

I gave him a polite smile and handed over the documents we’d prepared.

“What’s this?”

He skimmed the pages — and froze.

They contained all of his missed calls and texts to Eun-young — every time he’d refused to help her, every message telling her not to bother him because he was struggling too.
Attached were screenshots from his own social media — expensive dinners, luxury watches, golf trips.

The document stated clearly: if he couldn’t prove the source of those funds, it would count as embezzlement of a minor’s trust.

His face twisted in anger.

“You’ve been tricked by some scam artist who wants your money, and now you’re calling me a thief?!”

I didn’t flinch.

“Then prove it. Show us evidence that you’ve kept my money safely — and proof that you’ve actually cared for me, as my guardian.”

He had no response. His hands trembled on the table.

I delivered the finishing blow.

“Even if what you’re saying is true, Uncle — the assets you were managing still legally belong to me. Not to you.”

Then Attorney Kim slid over two options:

“Either we file criminal charges for embezzlement and recover the full amount through the court, or you sign here and begin repayment voluntarily.”

It was just before the banks closed. Perfect timing.

The uncle stared at the papers, his mouth twitching. Then he sighed heavily.

“I can’t pay all of it at once… I’ve got investments tied up here and there… If I pull them now, I’ll lose money…”

A long speech to say: I don’t have it all.

Fine. There was still one path left.

“Then sign here,” Attorney Kim said coolly. “You’ll transfer the first installment today.”

We both knew he was thinking about running, but I wasn’t leaving empty-handed.

An hour later, we left the bank with ₩700 million (about $500,000) back in Eun-young’s account.

Finally, I could breathe again.

***

But it wasn’t over.
We drafted a repayment plan: every year, he’d return 20% of the remaining funds.
If he missed a deadline, interest would pile up fast.

If he still tried to cheat us later — well, then he’d face real criminal charges.

After all, he’d already lived luxuriously for years on stolen money.

Attorney Kim would make sure justice was served.

Now it was time to rebuild.

I contacted Kwon-hyung again and had him send me a list of Joy Entertainment’s remaining assets and debts.
Once his personal debt of ₩200 million was added, the total company valuation came to about ₩500 million.

Most of it was unpaid rent and security deposit issues — ridiculous.
If I settled the debts, repaid severance to ex-employees, and restored the building’s lease, we could just barely break even.

That would leave maybe ₩200 million — enough to move somewhere livable and cover staff salaries for a few months.

Expenses everywhere, income nowhere.

And there was no guarantee my “uncle” would actually pay on schedule.

I needed to save wherever possible.

Then it hit me.

Wait… there’s that rooftop room, isn’t there?

***

When I went to check it with Kwon-hyung, I couldn’t help but grin.

“This’ll do perfectly.”

He looked horrified.

“Hyung… you’re seriously going to live here?”

The “here” in question was the tiny rooftop room above the company building — originally a staff break room and storage space.

Cramped, yes, but it had a bathroom, a shower, and a small kitchenette.
It was enough.

And it’s right above the office.

Down the stairs — and boom, instant commute.
No rent, no extra costs.

Seeing how pleased I looked, Kwon-hyung gaped again.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll probably be spending most of my time at the office anyway.”

And that was the truth.
No staff, no capital, no miracle investors — just me.
If anything was going to change, I’d have to rebuild it with my own two hands.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, turning to him, “give me the list of our remaining artists — the ones whose contracts haven’t expired yet.”

“Why? You’re going to contact them?”

“Yeah. The company can’t afford to start from zero. It’ll be easier to revive existing artists than scout new ones.”

He hesitated.

“I already tried. They all said they don’t plan to work with Joy anymore…”

“They said that to you,” I reminded him. “They haven’t talked to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Because giving up without even trying?

That was never my style.