No Moral

“Set the damn font for the financial statements in a readable one! C’mon, what’s with this readability? Leave ours but reprint Senior Attorney Kang’s. Don’t you know that he doesn’t read and throws the papers on the ground if the font is shit? I’ll give you four minutes. Run! And who organized the final document on corporate legislation for Attorney Kang? Final draft on corporate legislation?!”

“I did that! I’m also going to do the briefing. Someone put in a request for more juniors on our team, so we can make them do these tiny, tedious things. Are we at that position to be preparing all these meetings?”

“Precedents! The precedents, the precedents!”

“I’m printing them! Secretary Tak will bring them!”

Yoonshin gawked at the scene, then was overcome with a strange feeling. It felt like a different room than when he did his presentation. He kept feeling this inexplicable feeling since he came to the firm. These were all people who had the same qualifications as him, but they looked like they lived in a different world.

Yoonshin always considered a big law firm to be where lawyers grew fat and a pillar of corporate power and influence in Korea. Following that, he thought this place would be barren as a desert. Contrary to his prejudice, the work of these people was so healthy, so he was bewildered.

Should he go in to help? Was he allowed to butt in without Sehun’s permission? If so, he didn’t know anything about corporate litigation, so what could he do? Was there a place for him to stand amongst those lawyers? Yoonshin’s brain ran at full speed. Entranced, he was about to enter the room to at least help distribute the documents.

Someone grabbed his bony shoulders from behind. He could feel the other party’s supple skin over his clothes. Yoonshin gasped audibly and turned around to see Sehun, who he was waiting for. The office manager quickly caught up to the partner and handed him an envelope of documents before leaving on Sehun’s request.

“Attorney Kang? Where were you? You weren’t in your office.”

“And where were you going to go?”

“The seniors looked very busy.”

“Do you know how much that litigation is worth? It’s not your turn to be a part of that yet. Then again, I gave you 10 minutes. Are you late or not?”

Yoonshin admitted to his wrongdoings sheepishly, “I’m four minutes late. I ran fast, but I felt the limit of my stamina…”

The other’s handsome brows crumpled slightly. However, since he was also not in his office, he seemed to give Yoonshin some leeway for his tardiness.

“Follow me.” Without a second thought, Sehun took his hand off the other’s shoulder and beckoned with his finger. Yoonshin stared at Sehun’s back, going ahead first. He unconsciously touched his shoulder on the spot where Sehun touched. It felt like the softness of the touch lingered. Then, he snapped out of it and quickly followed.

Sehun haphazardly tossed his documents on his office desk and leaned against it. Then, he stared at Yoonshin, who still didn’t quite finish catching his breath. “Fourth-year.”

“Yes, Senior Attorney?”

“Where the hell were you? Why weren’t you on stand-by at your office? Don’t make me look for you.”

“Oh, I stopped by the annex. The free consultation clinic is scheduled on the last Friday of every month, which happened to be today.”

Sehun didn’t respond. He simply fixed his frigid eyes on Yoonshin and crossed his arms. Yoonshin started to feel the pressure of the tenacious and obstinate eyes, so he looked at the hallway through the office window for no reason. Now that he noticed, the blinds that were down nearly every day were raised. After registering that change, he looked back at Sehun, who was still maintaining the same posture and atmosphere.

Yoonshin realized his mistake and excused himself. “I’ll stay in my office next time.”

“You took one hour—that’s three times the amount of time you could use for a quickie. You dropped by the annex? I’m sure you meddled in far more than necessary when you could just give them brief advice. Nobody here does volunteer work as sincerely as you.”

“Were you watching me work?”

“Do you think I did? I was at the firm all day.”

Sehun just meant that Yoonshin was that obvious.

“Well, I was only trying to work wholeheartedly. They’re all struggling people. Moreover, the records will have your name on it, so I thought it would be better than just doing it casually.”

“Yeah, I’m so touched. I could even cry. You can spend your time on it overnight and come back to me tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll use my time appropriately from now on.”

Sehun shook his head in defeat, but he didn’t reprimand Yoonshin any further. He uncrossed his arms and reached behind. He picked up the envelope that he had tossed and chucked it at Yoonshin. Yoonshin caught it reflexively and gave Sehun a quizzical look. “What is this?”

“Your case.”

“Whoa. You’re giving me a case?”

Heavy feelings such as trust were crafted carefully and gradually; like weaving fabric, they wouldn’t just appear one day because one decided to trust another. The two started to weave their first fabric by putting the warp and the woof in the loom for the first time.

Even though the change was small, Yoonshin was plenty satisfied. Thanks to that, his white face was filled with joy, adding a pink tint to his cheeks.

Yoonshin stood at the boundary of dreams and reality, and all the while, Sehun was observing him. His cheek twitched, barely noticeably, and then he bit his lower lip. Surprisingly, he looked a bit psychologically swamped.

Yoonshin was oblivious to Sehun’s reactions. He pulled out the papers in the envelope and scanned its contents. His head snapped up, and at that moment, their eyes locked. Astonishingly, Sehun averted his eyes first. It was the first time this happened.

“Senior Attorney?”

“It’s pro bono. Organize it yourself.”

“Am I really in charge of this?”