When I was young, the place where my house stood was a neighborhood crisscrossed with tangled alleyways.
It was a poor area, but I had so many friends.
Together with them, I dug along walls to catch mole crickets, played land-grabbing games, marbles, and other childhood games.
When it got to around three in the afternoon, when we were deeply absorbed in play, a monk commonly called a ttaengjung would often pass by.
I didn't know his real name, nor his Dharma name.
Everyone called him ttaengjung, so I thought that was simply who he was.
One day, while I was playing at the playground, the monk stopped in front of me.
"Oh my, you've got the face of someone who'll turn the nation upside down."
I was too young to understand what it meant to turn a nation upside down.
Blinking, I asked,
"What does that mean?"
The monk smiled quietly and spoke again.
"Heh heh heh. Even if you died and came back to life, you'd still have the face of someone who'll overturn the country. Something like this might happen once every thousand years, if that."
I didn't understand what he meant, but I liked hearing that it was something that happened once in a thousand years.
It made me feel special.
The monk patted my head and said,
"It seems the times have called for you, so think carefully before you move."
After that, the monk appeared in the neighborhood a few more times.
And then, at some point, I never saw him again.
Someone said the monk had died somewhere.
Someone else said he had been caught scamming people and sent to prison.
As time passed, I lived on, forgetting my memories of the monk.
Tap. Tap. The sound of leather heels echoed through the quiet corridor.
From the far end of the hallway, a man in judicial robes was walking toward them.
His name was Lee Han-young.
His hair was graying and his face lined with wrinkles, but he was tall—well over 180 centimeters—and his gaze was sharp.
Another man stepped up beside him.
Unlike Lee Han-young's piercing eyes, this man wore a pleasant smile.
His name was Kim Yoon-hyuk, a fellow trainee from the Judicial Research and Training Institute.
Looking at Lee Han-young, he spoke.
"You're not going to fight someone, so why do you look so serious?"
Lee Han-young stopped walking.
"You've heard about it too, haven't you?"
Kim Yoon-hyuk curved his lips into a grin.
"You mean the order to give a suspended sentence? That's a given, isn't it? You're not seriously thinking of handing Chairman Jang Tae-sik an actual prison term, are you?"
Chairman Jang Tae-sik—the owner of the largest conglomerate in South Korea.
He was currently awaiting trial on charges of tax evasion, embezzlement, and hiding assets overseas.
And the judge presiding over that trial was Lee Han-young.
Watching Lee Han-young's grave expression, Kim Yoon-hyuk asked again, puzzled,
"You aren't, right?"
"Aren't what?"
"Giving him real prison time."
"The trial hasn't even started yet. You shouldn't go in having calculated things like that."
Kim Yoon-hyuk snorted.
"Don't pretend you're clean."
Lee Han-young shook his head in disbelief.
"They say pigs and dogs only see filth because filth is all they know. Don't project your thinking onto me. It's disgusting."
"You're different? I thought we were similar. No? Don't you remember Daedong Electronics?"
"Daedong Electronics was guilty."
"It was a trumped-up charge because the CEO was stupid. You know that. Or are you pretending not to?"
Daedong Electronics had once been touted as a next-generation company that would lead the future.
But unfortunately, it had fallen out of favor with the government at the time.
The company's CEO was dragged in on various charges, convicted, and the company was torn apart and disappeared.
The judge in charge of that case had also been Lee Han-young.
"I didn't know the Daedong Electronics case was fabricated."
Hearing that, Kim Yoon-hyuk looked at Lee Han-young with an endlessly mocking gaze.
"Liar. Then what about your wife? Why do you keep lying to your own life? You and I both struggled desperately to succeed in this damn world, didn't we?"
Lee Han-young shook his head.
"Fine. Let's say that up until now, we've sacrificed others to climb upward, just like you said. Does that mean we have to keep offering sacrifices from now on too? Let Chairman Jang Tae-sik go free? We have power now."
Lee Han-young spoke seriously, but Kim Yoon-hyuk looked only confused.
"What's wrong with you? This trial is your last chance. A chance to make up for all the times you went off the rails in one go. And power? You and I are just minnows. Stop thinking useless thoughts and just say it—suspended sentence."
"That's enough."
Lee Han-young started walking down the corridor again.
Chasing after him, Kim Yoon-hyuk said,
"Think of it comfortably. This is all the prosecutor's fault. The prosecutor botched the investigation, so you're handing down a suspended sentence. You've done nothing wrong."
Lee Han-young stopped again.
"Was the Daedong Electronics CEO's name Park Eun-hoo?"
"What? That's what you were thinking about?"
"I suddenly remembered the unjust look on his face."
"Don't think about it. It's only natural for stupid people to suffer."
Lee Han-young slowly turned his gaze toward Kim Yoon-hyuk.
Meeting Lee Han-young's icy stare, Kim Yoon-hyuk spoke in a low voice.
"Remember this well. This is your last chance. It's not just the public watching this trial. The Chief Justice and the Supreme Court Justices are watching too. The public will forget who the judge was, but the Chief Justice won't. He'll never forget. The one who rules this world right now isn't the President. It's the Chief Justice."
"Disgusting."
"Even if it's disgusting, endure it. That's how you survive."
"You're the one who's disgusting."
Lee Han-young turned and headed into the courtroom.
Standing there, watching Lee Han-young's back, Kim Yoon-hyuk's lips curled upward.
"That's why you can't work with a fucking idiot."
As Lee Han-young entered the courtroom, everyone stood.
Taking his seat, Lee Han-young spoke quietly.
"I will inform the defendant of the right to remain silent. The defendant may choose not to testify or may refuse to answer certain questions, and no disadvantage will result from exercising this right. Do you understand?"
Chairman Jang Tae-sik lifted his chin stiffly and looked at Lee Han-young.
His eyes said that he already knew he would be released with a suspended sentence.
Time passed.
The prosecutor's argument and sentencing request, the defense's final statement, and the defendant's last words all came to an end.
Now it was the final moment of the trial.
Today, the verdict had to be delivered.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on Lee Han-young.
With a rigid expression, Lee Han-young took a deep breath.
Chairman Jang Tae-sik, sitting in front of him with a vile smile, was someone who unquestionably deserved a real prison sentence.
Every piece of evidence proved his guilt.
And yet, Chairman Jang Tae-sik was relaxed.
His expression was one of absolute confidence that no law could ever be applied to him.
'Bastard.'
After glaring at Chairman Jang Tae-sik for a moment, Lee Han-young turned his gaze to the prosecutor.
'Was her name Kim Jin-ah?'
He had heard she was one year his junior.
When their eyes met, she looked somewhat nervous, but she seemed confident of victory.
With airtight evidence, that was only natural.
Lee Han-young quietly observed Prosecutor Kim Jin-ah.
It was impossible to even imagine how many hardships she must have endured to drag Chairman Jang Tae-sik into court.
This time, Lee Han-young turned his gaze to the defense attorney.
Until recently, a Supreme Court Justice—now a lawyer at the most powerful law firm in Korea.
'Old devil.'
When the lawyer met Lee Han-young's eyes, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
His gaze conveyed the message clearly.
'Hand down a suspended sentence. If you try to overturn me, your life ends here. Do it. Suspended sentence.'
Lee Han-young inhaled deeply. Then he slowly opened his mouth.
"From this moment, I will deliver the verdict for the defendant, Jang Tae-sik."
As he read down the verdict, Chairman Jang Tae-sik's expression gradually rotted away.
And then—
"I sentence the defendant, Jang Tae-sik, to fifteen years in prison."
Just like that, the trial ended.
Escorted by the police, Chairman Jang Tae-sik slowly walked toward Lee Han-young.
In a very quiet voice, meant only for Lee Han-young to hear, he spoke.
"Lee Han-young, was it? Just because you're sitting in the judge's seat, you don't actually think you're the master of this world, do you? Do you think you can touch me and still live? Even if you sentenced me to prison, I'll be out in three months anyway. Aren't you curious what will happen to you and that bitch prosecutor then?"
Lee Han-young did not avert his gaze.
Meeting his eyes calmly, he spoke quietly.
"I didn't weigh your money or your power. I only weighed your crimes. There is no acquittal for the rich. You are a criminal. So if you committed a crime, reflect on it and accept it willingly—don't try to threaten a judge."
"Do you want to die?"
"You're going to kill a judge? Should I put what you just said on the scale as well?"
The sound of Chairman Jang Tae-sik grinding his teeth could be heard.
He glared fiercely at Lee Han-young.
But Lee Han-young paid no attention to his expression and turned his gaze to the police officers.
"Please take him away."
Lee Han-young was sitting in the defendant's seat.
The charges were murder and accepting bribes while serving as presiding judge.
Lee Han-young shook his head slightly and looked forward.
In his view stood the presiding judge, wearing a quiet smile.
That judge was his former colleague, Kim Yoon-hyuk.
But in Kim Yoon-hyuk's eyes, there was no trace of seeing Lee Han-young as a friend or a colleague.
It was the look one would give an insect.
Lee Han-young pressed his lips tightly together.