Lee Minho

Lee Minho was the country's most expensive lawyer.

At twenty-five, he inherited his father's law firm, and by thirty-five, he had transformed it into a winning machine. For ten years, he hadn't lost a single case. Not a single guilty verdict for a client he'd represented.

They feared him. Not because Minho was a genius of the law. There were plenty of those. They feared him because he never questioned whether he was doing the right thing. For Lee Minho, there were only two outcomes: victory and the defeat of others.

The morning meeting promised to be boring.

A drunk and high client decided to test the limits of his Porsche and ended up ramming a police box. Luckily, no one was inside. The only damage was to the metal, glass, and the driver's nose.

The case was so simple that Minho didn't even open the file on the way to court.

Climbing the wide stone steps, he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and pushed open the heavy door of the meeting room.

Inside, it smelled of paper, old wood, and cheap coffee.

Minho glanced at the assembled group and was about to take his seat when he noticed the prosecutor.

Young.

Too young.

A short man stood at the prosecution table, clutching a folder of documents. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes blazed with something Minho had long since ceased to understand.

Conviction.

Not self-confidence, not pride, but a sincere belief that the truth matters.

Han Jisung.

Minho had heard that name a few times. The new prosecutor. Stubborn. Principled. The kind of idiot who works late not for a career, but because he genuinely wants to make the world a better place.

Jisung looked up.

For a second their eyes met.

Minho expected to see nervousness, excitement, or at least respect for his reputation.

But I didn't see anything like that.

Only the calm confidence of a man who had no intention of backing down.

"Han Jisung. Nice to finally meet you."