TLWSL 01

Chapter 01

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Under the emblem of the court.

The judge’s bench.

To the right.

The witness stand and the defendant’s seat.

The place I stood now was a criminal courtroom.

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[The tutorial begins.]

[Case Number: 2013Godan54321]

[Cha Do-hyuk’s assigned role: Prosecutor (rookie)]

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“Same dream again, huh.”

It had been ten years.

Ever since my mother died in a car accident, at least once a week, I had this same tutorial dream.

“Maybe it’s because the case I’m handling now resembles my mother’s… The stress is getting to me.”

Because of the nature of law firms, I couldn’t just take only the cases I wanted.

But I never wanted to handle cases related to drunk driving.

“Maybe I should just quit.”

As I rubbed my throbbing temple, the edge of my sleeve caught my eye.

It was the robe of a prosecutor.

The irony wasn’t lost on me—though I was a lawyer in reality, here in this courtroom, I was the prosecutor.

The reason was obvious.

First—

“In court, the only person who stands to represent the victim is the public prosecutor.”

Second—

“In this case, the victims were my mother and me.”

Creak.

A records clerk pushed in a cart.

On it was a single cloth-wrapped bundle.

“Good day, Prosecutor.”

“…Good morning.”

“Yes, do your best today.”

Thud.

He placed the bundle on my desk and wheeled the cart back out.

‘Always feels so real.’

In an age where robots ran around delivering things, using a cloth wrapping felt old-fashioned. But at large prosecution offices like the Seoul Central District Prosecutor’s Office, they still used these wrappings to keep trial records organized when bringing them to court.

Anyway.

As usual, I untied the cloth and pulled out one of the case files, flipping through it mechanically.

“Not even this time does it say who the defendant is, let alone the case number.”

Page after page.

Nothing written.

At this point, I wasn’t even surprised anymore.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it coming.

After so many repeated trials, I had memorized every detail of this case anyway.

By the time I set the file back down, the court bailiff was scanning the gallery.

“The trial is about to begin. Please turn off your smartphones, and remain quiet during the proceedings.”

Soon after, the judge’s door opened.

The judge entered.

Standing at the bench, he bowed to the gallery.

“Good day. This is the Seoul Central District Court, Criminal Division 20. We will now begin the trial.”

It was time for him to check attendance.

“We will now proceed with case 2013Godan54321, violation of the Road Traffic Act. Defendant Jung Ji-hoon, are you present?”

“Yes.”

The defendant sat at his seat.

I wished, just once, I could see his face clearly.

But it was always obscured.

“And the prosecutor?”

“……”

“Prosecutor?”

Every eye in the courtroom turned toward me.

“…Prosecutor Cha Do-hyuk, present.”

“Please stay focused, Prosecutor Cha.”

“Understood.”

“Ahem.”

After confirming defense counsel’s attendance and completing the defendant’s identity check, the judge turned to me.

“Prosecutor Cha Do-hyuk, please state the charges.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

I stood with a blank sheet in hand.

“The defendant, Jung Ji-hoon, after a business meeting with Mind Bridge, drank approximately 150 million won worth of Penfolds Ampoule Red wine at the Odae Hotel.”

“While intoxicated, he drove a Maybach owned by Finlight Company. At around 8:30 p.m. on November 14, 2013, near the Seocho District Office intersection in Seoul, he struck victims Lee Soo-young and Cha Do-hyuk, who were waiting at a crosswalk, then fled the scene.”

“He was later apprehended at approximately 9:00 p.m. that same night near his residence in Daechi-dong by patrolling police officers.”

The judge asked the defendant whether he admitted to the charges.

Jung Ji-hoon smirked faintly.

“I absolutely cannot admit to them. I did not drive under the influence, nor did I hit anyone.”

When the defendant denied it, the judge turned to the defense for their statement.

“The defendant, Jung Ji-hoon, has been wrongly identified as the perpetrator. He neither drove drunk nor committed a hit-and-run. We assert his innocence.”

Following procedure, the defendant was then cross-examined.

“You refused the police officer’s request for a breathalyzer test, didn’t you?”

“Your Honor! The refusal is true. However, the officer’s report states that my speech, gait, and complexion were all normal.”

The defense and I clashed fiercely, and eventually, the judge ordered an evidentiary hearing to determine the key issues.

“Prosecutor, submit the evidence against defendant Jung Ji-hoon.”

“I submit the investigative records taken from the defendant, as well as victim statements from the investigation.”

I always wondered how the judge could read these blank pages, but I went through the motions.

“Furthermore, since the defendant denies the charges, I call as a witness Ji Dok-hyun, who saw events before and after the crime.”

I applied for the witness, cross-examined, even drew testimony unfavorable to the defendant.

‘This time, I’m bound to win.’

But the judge’s ruling was no different than before.

“The court rules as follows. Verdict: the defendant is acquitted of all charges under the Road Traffic Act, including drunk driving and hit-and-run. That concludes today’s trial.”

“……”

As the judge exited, the bailiff and clerks disappeared as well.

Leaning back in my chair, I held my head.

“…Damn it.”

Another loss.

“Why?”

Why again?

No matter how I turned over the judge’s words, it didn’t make sense.

“Not decisive evidence? Then just how much more proof do I need for it to be decisive, to actually win?”

Ten years.

That’s how long I’d been stuck with this case number, with this void.

“I even brought in a witness. Got testimony harmful to the defendant. And still I lose. Why?!”

If dreams reflected desire, shouldn’t the verdict have punished the man who killed my mother?

This wasn’t some convoluted case with tens of thousands of pages of records. What more was I supposed to do?

I clenched my fists, trying not to explode, but the anger surged anyway.

In reality, I would’ve cooled down by now—but handling the Ohseong Group youngest son’s case had already left me boiling.

The injustice kept clawing at me.

“Why does even a dream abide by ‘innocent with money, guilty without’? Why force me to relive this? Answer me!”

Was someone enjoying watching me lose my mind?

Otherwise, how could a judge dismiss everything as “not decisive evidence”?

“Then let me find the evidence! I’ll dig it out, without having to infer from these blank pages!”

There was no one to hear me, no answer to come.

Still, I demanded a reply, as if even a god wouldn’t treat me this way.

“If not, then just end this damn tutorial already!”

Suddenly, unfamiliar text flashed before me.

“What the…?”

I hurried to read the messages blinking in and out.

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[Your thoughts have been received.]

[The system is searching for a customized opportunity.]

[A method matching your personality has been found!]

[Tutorial forcibly completed.]

[Main story begins.]

[Investigation into Case 2013Godan54321 commences.]

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‘That’s… my mother’s case number?’

I replayed the words that had just vanished.

“How can they ‘investigate’ a case that’s already been closed with a verdict?”

It felt like my outburst had triggered something absurd.

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[A mission is assigned.]

<Mission>

By August 6, 2023, resign from Continental Law Firm.

• Success: Evidence.

• Failure: System termination.

※ Evidence gained as a reward will also synchronize with reality.

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“…Mission? Quit my job?”

Maybe because the Ohseong Group case was such a nightmare, my half-joking wishes to quit had bled into the dream.

But was this even possible?

No matter how dirty, no matter how much resentment I had…

I couldn’t actually quit—not when debt loomed like a guillotine.

“Guess it really is just a dream.”

Of course. I was the one at fault for hoping a dream could solve what couldn’t be solved in reality.

“At least, since the tutorial’s ‘forcibly completed,’ I won’t have this dream anymore.”

It was a bitter waste of ten years of effort, knowing I’d never again revisit my mother’s case.

“…No one to even say goodbye to.”

I shut the mission window, and my vision faded to black.

Ding-dong-do-ro-rong, ding-dong-do-ro-rong.

Darkness filled the room, the blackout curtains drawn.

My smartphone alarm blared.

I turned it off and opened my email.

Overnight, dozens of unread messages had piled up.

“Ha… How many cases are on my plate now? Seventeen?”

On the very day of the Ohseong Group youngest son’s final verdict, all these cases piled in at once.

“Should’ve gotten up earlier. Only two cases need urgent opinion briefs.”

Clicking through emails, I organized my schedule.

At first, I questioned why I bothered. But with cases piling up daily, this morning routine had become survival.

I stretched, turned on the lights, and rose from bed.

Then something impossible appeared before my eyes.

“…Huh?”

The mission window from my dream was floating in midair.

For a moment, I froze, barely breathing, just staring at it.

My phone clearly said 5:00 a.m., July 10. This was reality.

So why was the mission window here?

“……”

The second alarm went off, breaking my daze.

“Guess I’m still half-asleep.”

I brushed it off with a ridiculous joke I’d never normally say.

After a shower.

A shirt.

A quick breakfast.

Finally, checking my mother’s keepsakes, gleaming faintly with light.

Only then did I realize—

The mission window was still there, trailing after me.

This wasn’t a dream.

 

That shameless mission really was ordering me to quit.