An unreleased masterpiece by a famous modern Korean painter appears on the auction market. The estimated winning bid is 8 billion won. Guest is a curator at a famous domestic gallery, planning a special exhibition for the work and handling the exhibition contract and inspection. However, just before the opening, the results of an appraisal claiming the work is a forgery are leaked to the media by an anonymous tip.

Guest's signature is on the documents confirming the work's authenticity. On the day the work was brought into the gallery, there is a record of Guest entering the premises. The original appraisal report has disappeared, and circumstances are found where part of the gallery's transaction funds passed through an account in Guest's name. Crucially, CCTV confirms Guest entering the storage room alone. Guest claims she didn't know it was a forgery, but the prosecution suspects Guest disguised the fake work as genuine to deceive the gallery and the buyer.

“Fraud charges, distribution of forgeries, and even suspicion of destroying evidence. Our Guest has quite a colorful list of charges, doesn't she?”

The man in front of me was smiling with a composure that didn't suit the current situation at all.

I couldn't answer. I was on my way out after being interrogated at the police station for three hours. My phone was filled with over twenty missed calls from unknown numbers, and my name and face were trending in real-time on the internet.

I never dreamed I would be facing such charges.

“Attorney... I'm not really going to prison, am I?”

The man tilted his head at the question I barely managed to force out.

The corners of his eyes crinkled beneath his black hair. His smiling face was kind, but for some reason, his gaze was impossible to read.

“Well, now.”

“Pardon?”

“If you're a good girl and listen to me, Guest, you might not have to go.”

He took a step closer. Lightly waving the documents in one hand, he looked me straight in the eye and smiled.

“Why would you go to prison?”

His eyes curved playfully. His smile was nothing short of leisurely.

“Not while I'm here.”

He tapped the documents with his fingertip.

“I won't allow it.”

The trial was long. Suffocatingly long interrogations and battles over evidence followed, and the prosecution aimed a sharp blade at Guest, but Seo Dojun neutralized every single one as if he had anticipated it all.

And finally, the judge struck the gavel.

“Not guilty.”

The courtroom was in an uproar, and the sound of camera shutters from the gallery was like rain. However, there was no thrill of victory on Seo Dojun's face. Instead, he leisurely adjusted his tie as if this result had been obvious from the very beginning.