TW: Graphic violence

Your father and brother sat behind you, their tension palpable, far exceeding your own. The weight of the current circumstances was visibly eating away at their composure, fueling their nervousness more with each passing second.

Would it be strange if they admitted they never wanted you to continue this case? Maybe for you, but not for them. They had nearly lost their sanity when they saw you lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to machines, operated on within those cold, sterile white walls.

It was one of the most heated fights in the history of the Min family when their youngest daughter, stubborn to her core, demanded to return to the hearing. Papa Min and Oppa Min had tried everything—pleading with you, even resorting to bribery, offering anything just to see you stay away from this battlefield. They had even tried to frighten you with the dangers that lay ahead. But nothing worked.

Nothing could sway you from this path.

Given everything that had happened in your family, most people would expect the atmosphere in the Min villa to be tense, filled with remorse, stress, or even frustration. But typically, Papa Min and Yoongi's energy had always been vibrant, the complete opposite of your usual calm and controlled demeanor.

Today, however, that vibrancy was nowhere to be found. Both Yoongi and your father were on edge, visibly stressed and frustrated by the unfolding events.

"I swear to God, if that koala tries anything funny to make my sister cry, I'll skin him alive," Yoongi growled under his breath, glaring at Namjoon, his anger barely contained. Your father, equally frustrated, simply nodded in silent agreement.

The situation was tense. Your second witness had failed to show up, something no one had anticipated—least of all Yoongi and your father, who had seen the countless sleepless nights you had spent preparing this case. No one ever expected a "lousy mistake" from you, and now they were left grappling with disbelief and frustration.

But "lousy mistake" was far too mild a term to describe this disaster. Jackson had met with the witness multiple times before the hearing to ensure his presence. This wasn't just a careless error—it was well-planned.

How could this have happened? Jackson could never make this mistake How? Just how?

On the other side of the courtroom, emotions ran just as high. Namjoon's father, growled in frustration near Seokjin, his eldest son. "What the heck is that second production of ours up to? I swear, if he does anything that harms Y/N, I'll skin him alive myself!"

Seokjin blinked in disbelief, unsure how to process his father's words. Was his father truly ready to threaten his own son over Y/N, his favorite student? Just what kind of hold did Y/N have over this family?

The magistrate's eyes blazed as his hand struck the bench in a loud, resounding slap, silencing the already stunned courtroom. "Mr. Kim," he thundered, barely containing his fury, "this is not only a mockery of your own profession but a blatant disregard for South Korean law!"

But Namjoon stood firm, unperturbed, a faint, almost defiant smile crossing his face. "Your Honor, I recognize your wrath but," he replied coolly, meeting the magistrate's gaze without a hint of hesitation.  "Your Honor, a judge follows the law, but a lawyer learns how to find its gaps," he stated firmly. "Today, I'm using those gaps."

The magistrate's face shifted from shock to a hard, discerning glare as Namjoon's words echoed through the courtroom. Everyone sat in breathless silence, the media capturing each tense moment, the air thick with anticipation as if the room itself was holding its breath.

You couldn't help but feel a strange blend of admiration and apprehension, struck by the boldness in Namjoon's gaze as he stepped steadily toward the bench, his every move brimming with purpose.

"And while you may see this as disrespect, Your Honor," he continued, his voice unwavering, "I see it as justice. Today, I am here to expose the truth, no matter what rules I must bend to reveal it."

The magistrate's composure seemed to crack under the weight of Namjoon's words, as though he, too, felt the full impact of this moment.

"Take note of my words, Your Honor," he said, his voice resonating throughout the courtroom. "I said 'bend,' not 'break,' the law." His gaze shifted, lingering momentarily on you, before he continued with a renewed intensity. "I have the utmost respect for my profession. It's not something I would easily betray."

Namjoon bowed respectfully, saying, "I await your permission, Your Honor." His words lingered, each one amplifying the tension as he took a step back, maintaining an unyielding stance. The magistrate's face softened just enough to reveal he was not untouched by Namjoon's bold plea.

You, however, felt your mind whirl in a frenzy. This is it; you thought. The opportunity to secure your case, to claim victory, was standing right in front of you. Many would call it opportunistic; others would say it was tactical, but you didn't care—you couldn't afford to lose.

No one knew better than you the sleepless nights, the weight of preparation that had gone into this. Losing was not an option, not when you'd come so far and faced so much. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, the stakes now feeling impossibly high. The words hung at the tip of your tongue, waiting for that one decisive moment.

The magistrate's reluctance was palpable, his gaze shifting uneasily between Namjoon and the courtroom. His fingers tapped slowly against the bench as he weighed the implications, a clear struggle reflected in his furrowed brow. 

He was torn between his duty to uphold the integrity of the law and the undeniable weight of Namjoon's arguments. Was this truly justice, or was it a manipulation of the system he had sworn to protect?

But one thing he was sure of—Namjoon wouldn't break the law itself. That unshakable belief in Namjoon's integrity was both his reassurance and his dilemma, torn between duty and the sense that, for justice to prevail, this might be a necessary breach.

The magistrate, after a measured pause, finally broke the silence. "Gaps, you say, Mr. Kim. I trust you've prepared the necessary paperwork?"

Namjoon gave a calm, knowing smile and nodded, striding to his stand where Lee awaited with the documents. He promptly submitted the papers to the court clerk.

"Your Honor, I'd like to clarify: I am merely recommending this individual as a witness to testify against my client. Formally, this witness is to be considered as one presented by Ms. Min, as outlined in the documentation."

He paused, then continued, "And to be clear, Ms. Min's authorization is noted. You'll find the authorization from her co-counsel, Mr. Jackson Wang, with official firm's stamp on the final page of the file."

The mention of Jackson's name made your head snap toward him. There he was, seated with an unbothered smile, blowing you a playful kiss.

Under the law, co-counsels or legal partners held full authority to make crucial decisions on behalf of one another if a partner became unavailable.

So that's why this all felt pre-planned, you thought, jaw clenching as you pieced together this latest revelation. It didn't take long to connect the dots: this scheme must have been set into motion during your hospitalization—starting exactly one month ago.

Now, just how Namjoon convinced Jackson Wang of all people, you thought, that's a story for another.

"Han Ji-Sung is the name recommended by Mr. Kim," the magistrate declared, his stern gaze shifting toward you. "Ms. Min, I'm sure you're familiar with this person?"

"Yes, Your Honor. I am aware of his identity," you answered, your tone steady with conviction, though a storm brewed beneath your calm exterior. your research about Kim Taehyung also included the name of his secretary, Han Ji-Sung

Jackson slipped closer, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/N, the police escort with Taehyung has arrived, right on cue."

With a subtle nod, you stepped forward. "Additionally, Your Honor," you began, the weight of your words palpable, "I'd like to inform the court that one of our prime suspects—is being brought in under police escort as we speak."

Your initial plan had been simple: bring Jay-B to the stand just as Kim Taehyung walked into the courtroom, ensuring he'd witness his own downfall unfold firsthand. Though the players had shifted, the outcome was strikingly the same.

You found yourself almost grateful, even if gratitude didn't mean forgiveness—not quite. Yet, as Namjoon's carefully laid plans fell into place, you felt a surprising warmth well up within you, so much so that you could almost imagine reaching out and embracing him.

'But what did it mean for me to admire Namjoon now? The man I had spent countless nights resenting for his tactics, who had always been my opposition. Yet, here he was, standing firm for what seemed like justice—or was it still strategy? I couldn't tell anymore.'

Strange, you thought, how allies could be found in the most unlikely of places.

A tense silence swept through the room as everyone held their breath. Then, the heavy courtroom doors swung open, revealing Kim Taehyung, flanked by officers on either side. His hands were restrained by cold steel cuffs, but his eyes, sharp and unreadable, flickered with defiance. The clanking of his shackles echoed against the silence as he was led down the aisle, each step a haunting reminder of the high-stakes battle unfolding.

Kim Taehyung's eyes burned with fury, his face flushed, and his clenched jaw twitched with tension. He tugged at the handcuffs, as if the officers' touch was enough to set his skin on fire. His fierce gaze locked onto you, rage and disdain practically radiating from him. Yet, you held your ground, meeting his glare with unwavering confidence, refusing to be shaken by the storm in his eyes.

With considerable effort from the officers, Taehyung was dragged to the accused stand. He jerked away from their grasp in disgust, choosing to stand defiantly on his own. The room was still reeling from the imposing presence of the notorious mafia leader when another figure burst through the courtroom doors, breathless and disheveled.

Your head whipped around at the commotion, and you caught sight of Kim Ja-Kyung—barely recognizable. His eyes, bloodshot and hollow, were shadowed by deep, purple circles, and his usually immaculate three-piece suit was in disarray. His hair, unkempt and wild, looked like it hadn't seen rest in days, and his chest heaved with each breath, as if he'd just sprinted a marathon to get here.

Kim Ja-Kyung had been reeling since dawn, blindsided by one shock after another. It began with the news of his son's arrest, the reality sinking in that his carefully built empire was starting to crumble. Then came the bombshell that his trusted assistant had turned witness, openly defying him and shattering years of loyalty. But the worst blow of all had to be the raid on their warehouses, which gutted not only their supplies but also the network he had meticulously woven together. It was as if his entire world was collapsing, each piece imploding in a relentless domino effect he had no power to stop.

His heart went wild looking at Han Ji-Sung walking towards the witness stand, he knew he was doomed because Han was basically a part of their mafia who knew everything. Ja-Kyung steps staggered; his vision blurry with anxiety. 

Ji-Sung shuffled with collar and opened his tie, his eyes met with his boss of ten years who was yet to know the reason for this sudden shift of sides. 

"Mr. Han for many years you were Kim Taehyung's aid?" you asked getting started with things to unfold. 

"Ten years" His voice was calm 

"How did you get into ...this" you question was directed and straightforward 

Something dark crossed Han's features, he glanced at Ja-Kyung with his emotionless eyes and continued speaking, "I was eighteen when I first joined the Kim's Enterprises as an intern "

For the next thirty minutes, the tension in the courtroom was suffocating. Every revelation from Han Ji-Sung struck the crowd like a thunderbolt, sending reporters into a frenzy as they captured each twist in what was quickly becoming the most sensational case of the decade. Taehyung sat seething, barely contained, his furious growls escaping with every piece of evidence Han revealed. Across from him, Kim Ja-Kyung was a ghost of his former self—frozen and numb, his face drained of all color.

It was Taehyung's gravest mistake: dismissing this case as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. In his arrogance, he'd believed it couldn't touch him, but he'd forgotten the inevitability of karma. Everyone, no matter how powerful, was bound to answer for their actions, and he was no exception.

In a way, you'd saved your own life today without even knowing it. If you had delayed presenting your witness, granting Taehyung another day to act, you might have never made it back to this courtroom. He had plans for you, dark ones that hung in the air unspoken, as he waited for the media's interest to fade—plans that would have silenced you, erased any evidence, and protected his empire.

But now, his dreams were collapsing before his eyes.

"I hope, Your Honor, it is now abundantly clear how this mafia operated right under the nose of our government," you said, your voice firm and unyielding. The magistrate nodded slowly, jotting down notes with deliberate precision. The silence in the courtroom was almost palpable, the weight of the revelations hanging heavy in the air.

"Does the defense wish to object?" the magistrate asked, his voice sharp. Namjoon simply shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "No objections, Your Honor," he said, his calm confidence filling the room.

The magistrate nodded, his expression betraying a hint of approval at Namjoon's composed response. Turning his attention back to you, he said, "If the defense has no objections, let us proceed"

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for the final step. This was the moment everything had been building toward, the moment the scales of justice would tip irrevocably in your favor—or so you hoped.

"In the previous hearing, Your Honor, the defense successfully argued that Byun Baekhyun was depressed and struggling with suicidal thoughts. However," you paused for emphasis, "I have consistently maintained that his death was no suicide—it was murder. Today, I stand confident that I will prove this beyond any doubt."

You hesitated for the briefest moment, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. This was it—the culmination of sleepless nights, endless research, and unwavering determination. Your hands didn't tremble as you plugged in the pen drive, your voice unwavering as you warned, "The media is requested to exercise discretion when airing this content."

The screen flickered to life, and the courtroom held its breath. For the second time that day, the truth unraveled in vivid, unfiltered footage.

The video quality was far from polished—a shaky handheld recording that betrayed its raw authenticity. The first few seconds showed nothing but the floor, an indistinct blur of movement. Then, abruptly, the camera turned to reveal its owner: Byun Baekho.

The sight of him alive drew audible gasps from the courtroom. His face was taut with tension, his eyes darting nervously, and faint lines of worry etched on his forehead. He appeared to be wrestling with the weight of what he was about to do. Are you guys reading? If yes drop a blue heart inline comment.

The small camera—a GoPro—was placed inside a concealed surface, likely a cupboard. The door clicked shut, but the lens stayed fixed on the room through a cleverly positioned hole in the door. The scene was clear enough to expose whatever unfolded in that space.

It was his plan all along.

You took a deep breath and seized the mouse, quickly fast-forwarding the footage to the pivotal moment you knew was coming. The previously empty room suddenly became a flurry of motion. A group of bulky men in black stormed in, their presence commanding and menacing.

Leading them were two hauntingly familiar figures. The infamous Dad and son. 

As the video continued, the tension in the courtroom was palpable. 

Taehyung entered the frame, settling into a chair pulled out by Han, who stood loyally by his side. Among the group of intimidating men, Im Jae-Beom stood out, his presence adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

Taehyung exuded a sinister confidence, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. His movements were deliberate, his demeanor cold and calculating. On the screen, Baekho sat with his back to the camera, but the subtle trembling in his posture betrayed his fear.

The first voice broke the silence.

"Kim, this is the boy who saw us last night," Jay-B informed, his tone sharp with menace.

Taehyung smirked, exhaling a puff of smoke as his father awkwardly stood beside him, hands buried in his pockets like an out-of-place spectator.

"So, kid," Taehyung drawled, his voice low and leisurely, "why don't you start telling us what you saw?"

Baekho's reply was curt but loaded with defiance. "Everything."

The single word made Taehyung pause mid-drag, his jaw tightening. He exhaled slowly, the tension thick in the room. With a flick of his fingers, one of his men placed a large bag on the table in front of Baekho.

"Take this and disappear—go on a vacation," Taehyung offered, his tone a mix of mockery and threat.

Baekho turned slightly, his voice steady despite the evident danger. "I'm going to die anyway. What's the point of your generous offer?"

Taehyung laughed—a cold, maniacal sound that sent chills down spines. He stubbed his cigarette out on the floor before standing abruptly, grabbing Baekho by the hair with brutal force.

"Smarty pants," Taehyung hissed, his voice venomous. With a silent signal, he extended his hand, and Jay-B placed a gun into it without hesitation.

Taehyung stared at Baekho with deadly amusement. "I've gotten bored of killing rats like you. Tell me, what makes you special?"

Baekho, struggling but unyielding, met his gaze head-on. "Your death," he said firmly, his voice unwavering despite the grip on his hair.

Suddenly, a gunshot echoed in the footage, sending shockwaves through the courtroom. A deafening cry followed, piercing the ears of every spectator.

The shot had been fired by Kim Ja-Kyung, hitting Baekho squarely in the chest. The cry of anguish belonged to Baekho—a sound filled with raw, desperate pain.

"I've seen plenty like you," Ja-Kyung snarled, his voice cold as ice, "fools who think they can challenge the mafia king directly." He pried Baekho free from Taehyung's iron grip, only to grab him by the collar himself.

Baekho, bleeding but unbroken, managed a shaky, defiant whisper. "This time... the mighty mafia king will know what fear truly feels like."

Ja-Kyung's face darkened with rage, but before he could react, Baekho's voice rose above the chaos, his words aimed like a dagger. "Everyone... is watching everything."

BANG!

Another gunshot thundered through the room, silencing Baekho's words forever. This time, it was Taehyung who pulled the trigger, his expression devoid of remorse. The bullet struck Baekho in the head, his body crumpling to the ground like a lifeless doll.

Taehyung exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the gun as if savoring the finality of the act. The room in the footage was silent now, except for the faint ringing that followed the gunfire.

"He was feeling heroic," Taehyung muttered nonchalantly, tossing the gun onto the table. His eyes, cold and calculating, turned toward his father. "Next time, don't waste bullets on chatter. Aim for the head first."

Ja-Kyung nodded stiffly, though the unease in his eyes was evident. It was clear even he wasn't immune to his son's growing ruthlessness.

The footage stopped abruptly, leaving the courtroom in stunned silence. The chilling reality of what they had just witnessed sank in, and the weight of it pressed down on every single person in the room.

"Videos like this are nearly impossible to manipulate, Your Honor, ensuring the authenticity of this evidence," you stated, your voice tight with unease. Watching someone's life end so ruthlessly wasn't something you could easily brush off.

"This footage was captured using the personal camera of the deceased, Byun Baekho," you continued. "The full recording spans almost four hours, as the camera continued to run until its battery drained and the video saved itself automatically. This unbroken sequence leaves no room for doubt."

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you pressed on, your tone gaining strength. "Additionally, the footage implicates Kim Taehyung's men—specifically, two of his high-ranking officers—as accomplices in this murder. Their actions after the crime included disposing of the body. Where they dumped it, only they know."

You paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the courtroom. Then, with resolute conviction, you concluded, "The counsel now seeks the rightful judgment of this honorable court. Justice demands no less."

You walked back to your bench, each step heavy with the weight of the trial, and sank into your seat with a weary sigh, there was this feeling in your chest, the feeling which can be termed as triumph and the feeling of completeness

you knew you won today...you were done with this case finally...

__________________________________

TBC 

Just left with the Namjoon's and Y/N's mess now, be ready to bid a beautiful farewell to this story with remaining 7-8 chapters....

I LOB YOU ❤️