The Weight of Lies

"Team Leader, this is Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae's lawyer."

The man who entered under the detective's guidance was quite young and carried a fresh cologne scent. He wore a crisp suit, his skin clear and unblemished, and approached her from behind.

"I'm Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae's lawyer. Team Leader? Could we have a word?"

He introduced himself as her attorney, slid his business card across the desk, and casually pulled out a cigarette as if entirely accustomed to such situations. The detective who had been pressing her moments earlier stood up and exchanged glances with his colleagues.

"Keep an eye on her. Make sure Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae is taken care of."

It had been so easy to make the police who had tormented her stand down—and that was all it took. Throughout the interrogation, she hadn't slept, eaten, or drunk anything. Though she found her situation absurd and infuriating, she felt powerless. Staring at the statements and evidence photos laid before her was agony. What in the world was this?

What had left her so helpless? Money? Her life? Or just the sheer unfairness of it all?

She suddenly wanted to break down and sob, to let go of everything and weep uncontrollably. The detective watching her must have pitied her, for he guided her to the sofa.

"Looks like the lawyer's on the victim's side. Things are getting weird. Damn it…"

"Please believe me. I—I don't know anything. I never hired a lawyer… I couldn't afford one anyway."

"You seem like you're telling the truth. But what can we do? The evidence is so clear. Just go along with it. Fighting back will only make things harder for you, Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae."

She ground her teeth, curled into the sofa, and buried her face. Her heart no longer raced, her stomach no longer ached. She was just… numb.

After a while, the detective in charge returned and gave a curt order to his colleague.

"Let her go."

"…What?"

"Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae hasn't been cleared yet. But since there's no risk of flight and her lawyer is acting as a guarantor, that's all we can do. We'll notify her lawyer about the next hearing. You can go home now."

As the handcuffs clicked open, tears streamed down her face without warning. It was one thing to be wrongly accused, but it was worse that no one believed her.

If only I'd studied law. Not some program—actual law. To protect myself.

"Get in the car."

As she walked out of the central entrance with the detectives, she found herself face-to-face with the man who had introduced himself as her lawyer. He studied her swollen eyes and pale face, then opened the car door for her with a threatening edge to his voice.

"Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae. Get in before you're thrown back in for statutory rape and theft."

The words stung, but the unfamiliar charges still haunted her. Worse, the only lifeline she had was the man standing right in front of her.

"I… I want to go home."

"That's exactly what we're doing."

Who was this man? Why was he helping her?

Her thoughts trailed off, but her body obeyed instinct. Truthfully, she was too exhausted to resist.

When they arrived at her rented room, an unknown old man was waiting for her. Security guards stood at intervals from the neighborhood entrance, and the house was littered with muddy footprints. The place she had scrubbed clean whenever she had time was now a mess.

She steadied her trembling mind and faced the old man seated in a wheelchair.

"Who are you to come into someone's house without taking off your shoes?"

She didn't know what courage had made her say that. Maybe it was the exhaustion clouding her mind, or the anger at the mud stains on the floor.

Someone immediately grabbed her hair. The old man laughed heartily as she struggled like a stray cat being held by the scruff, then ordered the man to let her go.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as if bestowing charity.

It was blatant, low-grade hypocrisy.

The old man stared at her through round glasses, then tapped the person beside him with his cane. A stoic man bent down instantly, ear pressed to the old man's lips. Yeon-jae watched as their expressions shifted—first confusion, then seriousness.

Then her hair was yanked again, and the brutal beating began. There was no reason for it.

She curled up, unable to even scream, and passed out from the relentless kicks.

At the end of her misery, only desperate rage remained.

Maybe it would have been better to stay at the police station. Her mouth was full of blood, her eyes swollen shut. But she didn't want to cry or beg, so the moment she came to, she grabbed the wrist of the man holding her hair and scratched him.

"Stop it. You'll ruin that pretty face of yours."

A smooth pair of shoes appeared before her fallen body, accompanied by a chilling low voice. The man crouched in front of her, smoking harsh cigarettes, was the lawyer who had brought her home. His neatly groomed face made him look even more despicable as he pulled out a handkerchief and grabbed her chin. Blood mixed with saliva dripped down.

"You saw Yoon Jun-mo in that house, right? The father of the kid you tutored. What was your relationship with him?"

It was so absurd she laughed, and the blood in her mouth bubbled. She'd just learned that people laughed when they were about to lose their minds. But the man only frowned at the blood on his jacket.

"Stop talking nonsense. I don't even understand what the police are saying, let alone what you want."

"No, Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae, you do. Jo Sung-joon named you as an accomplice. He must have asked you to move things around, right?"

"I don't know! I didn't do anything. I was just his tutor!"

"You and the student seemed pretty close, Ms. Jeong Yeon-jae."

She ground her teeth at the man's sickening, creepy smile. I'll kill all of you…

"We'll be counting on you."

The man stood up, dropped her bloodstained handkerchief, and pulled a photo from his jacket, letting it flutter to the floor. The image showed an AI-generated, absurdly explicit scene alongside her underwear, which had been entered as evidence.

Yeon-jae felt like she couldn't breathe. It was as if the world was filming a Truman Show about her.

"These days, there are no secrets. People's mouths are so cheap, aren't they?"

Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw their footprints leading all the way to the front door.

"You'll be in there for about a year and a half. That's the maximum time we'll need to recover our goods. I don't trust Jo Sung-joon. If you don't know anything, we'll find out. So go in and relax."

"Hah… You're insane…"

"To put it nicely, we are."

She stared blankly at their retreating figures. Her tears had dried, and her stomach churned with nausea.

It felt like her world had been turned upside down overnight.

A world with no choices. Overflowing with bastards. This damn, filthy, shit-stained world made her sick.

So what happened? What could a twenty-something kid do? Nothing. She couldn't get any help and was dragged around like a marionette.

She was arrested again, stood in court, and faced the public's finger-pointing.