Surviving Restructuring

It was 2:00 PM and the division chief of the Audit Bureau, Jeon Do tapped his foot nervously beneath his desk.

“Do you think those kids will be all right?” he asked in a low voice.

“I was wondering the same,” Guk replied. “They must’ve been completely blindsided...”

Even he appeared uncharacteristically tense. The man who could remain composed while stacks of documents rained down on his head was now sweating visibly.

Eun-Ho and Ji-Woong had participated in the Audit Bureau’s OJT program. A one-day junior partner was still a junior. Naturally, Guk could not help worrying about them.

At last, Kim Ji-Woong, assistant manager of the Labor-Management Cooperation Team, stepped into the courtroom. His legs wobbled from the entrance. His head turned this way and that, shrinking under the weight of so many eyes.

“The defendant will take his seat.”

“H-hic! I-is that where I sit?” Ji-Woong asked shakily.

Sweat poured down his face as he staggered toward the defendant’s chair. Eun-Ho walked beside him.

“His steps seem heavy,” Guk said.

“They would be,” Jeon Do replied.

Eun-Ho moved as if sandbags had been strapped to his ankles. At one point, the hand he kept hidden behind his back trembled as though he had a nervous tic.

“A-and his hands are shaking,” Guk whispered.

“He’s still a rookie employee at heart. Even if he pretends otherwise, he must be terrified,” Jeon Do replied.

Still, Guk frowned. “But something feels off.”

Jeon Do gave a quiet sigh of agreement.

“You think so too?”

“Yes. Why would a bureau director personally step in just to take down a single team leader? He’s not some interstellar criminal.” Guk shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

The incident wasn’t significant enough to warrant the audit director using his unique ability on a newly formed team.

“There must’ve been pressure,” Jeon Do said quietly.

“Who would dare pressure the director?”

Only one figure was capable of holding even a bureau director in the palm of his hand.

“Wait a second...”

“Yes,” Jeon Do said grimly. “It must have been the chairman’s order.”

Guk’s eyes widened. At this scale, not even a newly appointed division chief like Jeon Do could intervene. All he could do was warn Guk in advance and watch the inevitable unfold. Exhaling deeply, he cast a regretful glance at the promising young talent caught in the crossfire.

Creeeak—

Ji-Woong sat down in the central defendant’s chair. Eun-Ho took his place at the defense table opposite the audit side. At once, a system window appeared before everyone.

[Defendant - Labor-Management Cooperation Team(Representative: Kim Ji-Woong).]

[Attendance has been confirmed.]

[The Trial will now begin.]

A cluster of brilliant white light gathered at the center of the courtroom.

Puff—

Moments later, a wooden gavel and block materialized within the glow. It was the system’s own instrument of judgment.

Eun-Ho’s eyes sharpened. “... Ah.”

Was he struck by the solemn authority of the floating gavel? He stared at it without blinking.

The director noticed it as well. “Assistant Manager Kim Ji-Woong.”

“Y-yes! Yes, sir!”

All eyes turned to the defendant in striped prison attire.

“This morning, you received points from tens of thousands of employees.”

The first charge was embezzlement.

“Under what pretext were those funds collected?”

Ji-Woong gulped in nervousness. “They were... union activity funds.”

He shot a quick glance at Eun-Ho, as if asking whether he had responded correctly. However, Eun-Ho did not react.

The director pressed on instead. “Of the seventy-eight million points collected, how much has been spent on union activities?”

“S-sorry? It hasn’t even been a full day since we collected the funds so—”

“So there is no proof of expenditure.”

“Excuse me?!”

It was absurd.

“How can you twist it like that? It’s only been a few hours!” Ji-Woong added.

Everyone in the room could see the distortion.

“Did you time this deliberately?” Ji-Woong asked, realization dawning. “You waited until right after we received the funds?”

He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. Now he understood why everything happened only hours after the collection.

“This isn’t a fair trial!” Ji-Woong shouted. “Isn’t there even a presumption of innocence here?!”

“Who said it has to be fair?” the director replied calmly.

“What?!”

The director did not so much as blink at the outburst. “A trial exists to seek punishment, not salvation.”

Ji-Woong froze.

“If we must define it,” the director continued, “it would be more accurate to call it a presumption of guilt.”

His tone was flat, almost thoughtful, as though he quite liked the phrase he had just coined.

“A presumption of guilt? That’s ridiculous!”

“Personnel Regulation Article 419, Clause 1,” the director recited heavily, crushing Ji-Woong’s protest mid-sentence. “No employee shall obtain monetary gain in exchange for personnel-related rewards.”

Following that, he snapped his fingers, causing the floating gavel to slam down against its block.

Thud!

The courtroom echoed with the strike.

[Embezzlement]

At the same instant, a red cube flickered into existence above Ji-Woong’s head, spinning slowly.

“That’s insane!” Ji-Woong shouted. “What monetary gain did we possibly take?!”

The moment he saw the word hovering above his head, he exploded. Veins stood out along his reddening neck.

“Would you like me to add contempt of court to the list?” the director asked coldly.

Ji-Woong froze because the director was the master of this courtroom. Having conducted hundreds of trials without a single defeat, he was an absolute authority within this domain. This was not an opponent one could defeat by shouting.

“Was it not extortion? Did you not collect funds in exchange for promoting union members?”

“Extortion?!” Ji-Woong shot back. “Those promotions were part of a trial assigned by the Chairman’s Office—”

“That trial...” The director’s low interruption made Ji-Woong’s shoulders twitch. “There is a witness who claims to have seen the Labor-Management Cooperation Team provide valuables to the chief secretary in exchange for altering that trial.”

“What?”

“Witness One. Step forward.”

Puff!

An empty chair materialized beside the defendant’s seat. At the same time, a man in a suit walked in and sat down, introducing himself as the deputy chief of the chairman’s secretariat.

[Witness One - Present]

The interrogation flowed smoothly.

“It was about a week ago,” the deputy chief said calmly. “I was leaving the office late after working overtime...”

He claimed he had witnessed Eun-Ho meeting secretly with the chief secretary late at night. He saw a box filled with solid gold bars exchanged hands. The two had whispered to each other in an unmistakably intimate manner. His testimony poured out effortlessly, like an endless roll of paper unspooling.

“Is that true?” Guk whispered.

“Whether it’s true isn’t the issue,” Jeon Do murmured back grimly.

That was the true terror of this trial. If declared guilty, the sentence would be carried out immediately. By the time they proved the evidence had been fabricated, it would be too late. The punishment would already have been carried out. In the first place, the system was unlikely to entertain such objections.

“That’s a lie!” Ji-Woong shouted hoarsely. “Every word of it is a lie!”

However, a second red cube appeared above his head, spinning ominously beside the first.

[Embezzlement] [Bribery]

“Damn it...” Ji-Woong muttered under his breath, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened. His agitation was obvious.

This is bad, Ji-Woong thought.

In that state, he would not be able to mount a proper objection or counterargument.

“What is Eun-Ho doing?” Jeon Do muttered.

“Come on!” Guk said.

All eyes darted toward the defense table. Eun-Ho sat there silently, watching. He showed no sign of stepping in.

“Wait...”

“Did he give up?”

The director, observing from above, smirked.

“He appears to have lost his fighting spirit. Still, we shall proceed to the end,” he remarked evenly, as if certain of his victory. “There is also evidence that the defendant declared he would take measures to prevent contract employees from being deleted abruptly.”

“Is that a crime too?” Ji-Woong demanded.

“To deceive others with false promises in order to obtain financial gain,” the director replied smoothly. “That is called fraud.”

Puff!

[Embezzlement] [Bribery] [Fraud]

Three red cubes now spun above Ji-Woong’s head.

The director regarded them with calm detachment as he steadily pronounced the sentence, “Defendant Kim Ji-Woong, as the responsible party who executed this series of crimes within the Labor-Management Cooperation Team, I seek partial burning.”

“Partial burning?!” Ji-Woong cried out.

Clink—

Then, scarlet chains materialized before him.

“The head that ordered the collection of funds.”

“What is this?!”

Clink—

The chains wrapped around his head.

“The hands that input the amounts and received the payments. The arms. The legs.”

Chains coiled around his wrists, his arms, his legs in turn.

“They shall burn for ten years.”

“What is this?!” Ji-Woong screamed. “Take it off!”

The metal glowed red, as if heated in a furnace. Ji-Woong looked like a mummy wrapped in red.

The team members watching from beyond the trial’s barrier gasped in horror.

“Calm yourself,” the director said indifferently. “This is merely preparation.”

However, the sentencing was not over.

“Team Leader, Lee Eun-Ho,” the director continued, shifting his gaze, “you bear significant responsibility for failing to properly manage the criminal Kim Ji-Woong.”

“What are you doing?!” Ji-Woong roared. “I’m the defendant! Why are you dragging him into this?!”

“Accordingly, I seek revocation of your team leader qualifications, and life imprisonment by hanging,” the director declared.

“Nooo!”

Ji-Woong’s thunderous scream echoed through the courtroom.

Sssk—

Above Eun-Ho’s head, a pair of iron doors appeared in midair, akin to a double window suspended from nowhere.

Bang!

Then, they flew open with a crack like gunfire.

Thud!

A thick rope dropped down from within. At its end hung a noose, perfectly sized for a human head. The loop slid around Eun-Ho’s neck.

“Hyung! Hyuuuung!”

The noose hung loosely around Eun-Ho’s neck. Everyone knew it would tighten soon enough, crushing his pale throat.

“Division Chief! I get the hanging part, but what does he mean by life imprisonment by hanging?!” Guk demanded.

“It means indefinite preservation,” Jeon Do replied evenly. “He will be kept in that state so that other unruly employees may look upon him and repent.”

That meant he was not allowed to die. He would be frozen at the brink of death, at the height of agony, and displayed forever as propaganda for the company’s regime.

The sheer selfish cruelty of the sentence left Guk speechless. However, the man at the center of it did not seem bothered. He even stepped forward and observed the noose. Eun-Ho tilted his head, examining it as though it were an interesting toy.

“Have you finished speaking?” he asked calmly.

“What?” the director replied.

“I asked whether the prosecution has concluded its statement.”

“Yes,” the director said after a beat, frowning slightly. “We have.”

Briefly, it almost sounded as though Eun-Ho muttered, “Yeah, nice speech.”

The director dismissed it as imagination. “Defense counsel, what did you—”

“Defense will now begin.”

Eun-Ho didn’t just cut him off, but also stepped forward, making the director’s brows twitch. “Why are you coming here? Stand beside the defendant!”

“Counsel! Remain in your seat!”

The Audit Bureau officials bristled in outrage, but Eun-Ho kept walking. “My name is Eun-Ho, the defense counsel for the defendant.”

He did not move too quickly nor too slowly. He stopped directly before the director, close enough that their gazes collided head-on.

“What trick are you trying to play! Step back at once—”

“I have a question for the prosecution,” Eun-Ho said, cutting him off. He stood so close it felt as though he would swallow the director whole. “I understand that if the defendant is found guilty, the punishment is carried out immediately. Is that correct?”

The director’s brow creased deeply.

“How dare you!”

“How dare you glare at the director like that!”

The pressure in the room sharpened like hundreds of honed blades. The director’s killing intent surged. He had no obligation or plan to answer.

“Answer!” Eun-Ho barked.

The single word cracked through the courtroom like thunder, and the director’s shoulders jerked before he could stop himself. The tension that had stretched taut as wire snapped for an instant.

“... Correct,” the director said, though he had not meant to reply.

“Then has this trial concluded?” Eun-Ho asked immediately.

There was silence, but no answer was necessary. As long as the defense was speaking, the trial was still in session.

Eun-Ho slowly swept his gaze across the courtroom, making sure everyone understood that fact.

“The trial is not over.” He then turned toward Ji-Woong, meeting the youth’s wide, stunned eyes. “He is not a criminal. He is a defendant. Release him. Now!”

Like a spreading wave, a murmur rippled outward from the tip of Eun-Ho’s fingers.

“Director!”

“There is no need to comply!”

“Silence!” the director roared, his face hardening like cold stone. “You insolent fool. A defendant who has been lawfully sentenced is no different from a convict.”

An invisible force began to rise around him. His presence swelled, vast as a mountain.

Guk’s face was drained of color. “D-Division Chief!”

The pressure grew suffocating. The sound of something tearing split the air. Everyone’s heads snapped toward Eun-Ho. He had seized the noose around his neck and ripped it apart. Strands of rope fell like shredded paper.

“May I argue that this constitutes coercion leading to false testimony?” Eun-Ho asked.

The courtroom froze.

“The defendant is protected from external interference during trial,” he continued, “and no items or abilities that may influence the trial may be used.”

The director’s lips parted slightly.

“You wouldn’t be attempting to violate the court’s own rules, would you?” Eun-Ho asked.

A shudder ran through the space.

Crack—!

The red-hot chains binding Ji-Woong’s head, arms, and legs shattered into fragments.

Eun-Ho then adjusted his collar as if nothing extraordinary had happened. “Now, let’s begin the defense.”