#girl at this point he's living in kang yohan's house. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years ago

Text

mask | masked | maskless

Being a judge for a live court show is difficult.

First, there is the persona. Second, there is the dedicated worker. Finally, there is a poor girl from the country whose mother taught her to keep her clothes looking nice and to wash her face twice a day.

Oh Jinjoo, the Right Associate Judge, has a lot of work to do. If only the others would make it a little less...everywhere.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, save for overworking??

Pairings: gen--or at least as gen as gaon and yohan ever get

Word Count: 3964

Being a judge for a live court show is difficult.

Not just because being a judge is stressful, but there’s an added dimension of having to perform in front of the entire nation. Of course, she isn’t the judge—she’s not in Chief Kang’s position—but even that comes with its own set of challenges.

Jinjoo knows she was chosen for her looks, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a damn fine judge on her own and if she’s been hired to do a job, she’s going to do it.

First, there is the persona.

Judge Oh. The most humane judge of the live court show. The empathetic one, the one that is there as the beating heart of the nation. She cares, openly, and the people are moved by her emotions and her words.

She meets with the PD on a regular basis. They talk about ratings, they talk about views, they talk about the DIKE app and how to ensure the show is as successful as possible. She argues against advertisements, against taking the focus of the show’s supposed point. The more people watch, the more people can vote. The more people vote, the more perspective.

The PD applauds her.

Second, there is Oh Jinjoo.

The dedicated worker. The one who can find the history of any case with a few well-placed searches, diligently taking notes with one hand as she talks to the lawyers on the other. She does her research, she leaves no stone unturned, and if there is information to find, she will find it.

She becomes a regular among most of the archival workers. She’s down there as much as she’s in her office, pouring over transcripts and legal documents alike, trying to make sure she’s got the full picture. She doesn’t make it home some nights. Alright, maybe most nights, but she doesn’t stop working. She gets poked at sometimes, jokingly asked if she takes breaks, or if she’s working too hard. She always gives them the same response.

Needs must.

Finally, there is Jinjoo.

A poor girl from the country whose mother taught her to keep her clothes looking nice and to wash her face twice a day. A girl who no one thought would make it through and become a judge but who managed it all the same. A girl who is out of place in the high risk and rush of a city like Seoul. When she finally has a moment to breathe, but shoulders it because she has to.

She doesn’t like the live court show. It smells of mob justice, of quick and bloody retribution to satisfy an insatiable and hungry population without addressing any of the underlying issues. It is giving a poor man currency he can only use in a rich man’s house that has no real and tangible value. She’s met a few people that had a hand in creating the live court show and she doesn’t like the glimpses of what she sees.

She spends her too few nights at home writing and rewriting proposals. On how to make the live court show better, on how to attack the systems and not just the people they create, on how to make the People’s Court truly a court of the people. Proposals she slaves over, weeps over, has bled over when she’d groped for her drink and accidentally brushed a thumb tack too hard and only noticed when her fingers began to stick to the pages.

Proposals she knows will never be looked at.

Judge Kang doesn’t take her seriously. She knows. He never has. He sees her the way the nation sees her, as the pretty face that sits to his right and talks from her heart. She is there to be a prop, the bench would look too empty otherwise. He talks to her like she’s still in school. Any star-struck glee she could have left is gone when he forgets she’s in the room one day and tries to pacify her by saying of course, she’s capable, she’s so diligent and bright, but with all the extra press she’s doing he’d hate to give her more work.

He doesn’t realize he’s actually giving her more work, but why would he?

No, she’d be laughed out of his office or sent off with everything but a pat on the head. Plus…she’s not sure what he’s up to.

Is she upset with the live court show? Yes. Is she disagreeing with the sentences Judge Kang passes? No, not really.

She only wishes she were more involved in the passing of them. That’s how this is supposed to work. They’re a team.

She thought at the very least she’d have Judge Kim to rely on, but now.

No, she doesn’t.

Judge Kim is like her. Young, didn’t grow up with money, a little out of place in the glitz of glamor that has become the live court show. Keeping up with the demands of the cameras and the press is daunting, trying to figure out how to be people on such a stage. Trying to do their work with so many eyes on them.

For a while, it seemed like it would be okay. They had a sort of solidarity. They exchanged wide-eyed glances when they were getting fitted for their robes, mouthed comments as they were walked through what the set-up was going to be, whispered behind their hands, and laughed in their office alone.

And then Judge Kim started to pull away.

At first, he would just be sitting at his desk, spending a little too long staring at nothing before she called to get his attention. He’d shake his head, say he was just thinking. She’d let it go, only expressing a little concern that he was working too hard—hypocrite, she knows—and saying if he needed anything, to just ask.

She’s still adjusting too, after all.

Then it became a thing where he’s not focusing just on the cases at hand. He’s chasing down obscure leads in parts of the archives she’s never touched, he’s calling the most obscure people, or he’s talking to a police officer and going with them to investigate. She can’t fault him for chasing avenues she never would’ve thought of, nor can she deny that the evidence he gets is useful, but the bulk load of the research and preparation is falling to her now.

Which wouldn’t be so bad if they’d discussed that before it happened and she blinked and suddenly she’s for the work of two judges on her plate.

Then he’s meeting with Chief Kang on his own. He doesn’t even tell her when he’s going. He just gets up from his desk and leaves, sometimes telling her he’ll be right back, sometimes just outright ignoring her.

The two of them are in it together now, with whatever Chief Kang is plotting. She knocks on his office door sometimes and the two of them spring apart and paste on smiles. Judge Kim is not as demeaning—or gross—with his manipulation but when she notices he’s doing it, her heart sinks. She considers calling him out on it right then and there—to the point where she’d opened her mouth as he turns his back on her—but then Chief Kang walks into the office to ‘collect him’ or something and the words die on her tongue.

Her proposal is vehement that night.

And it isn’t that she despises what they’re doing. How can she? She doesn’t know what it is. But they’re getting results. There is a form of justice being made here. She wants to help. That’s it. Do they understand that they’re handicapping themselves by leaving her out? An unstable team had gaps in the story. Secrets tear teams apart from within.

And by now, Jinjoo is good.

The PD has confided in her about the issues, not Chief Kang like he’s supposed to. The press of the live court show want to do follow-ups with her.

She knows what she’s doing.

Maybe she’s a bit egotistical about it sometimes, but she’s good.

She’s definitely put in enough work to be.

But they won’t include her. Not of their own volitions. So she has to put her work into other ways.

She works with the PD. She works with the press. She does her research. She writes her proposals.

Because damnit, someone has to keep this show off the ground and it doesn’t seem like she’s going to get any help from people who won’t give her the time of day.

…it’s not all bad.

She does genuinely enjoy working with Judge Kim. They’ve got similar senses of humor when it comes to reviewing dry legal documents, commenting on the transcripts and—sometimes—reenacting what they think could’ve possibly happened. Or it’s looking up and seeing an equally disgusted or confused look from the other desk and having a laugh about it.

And Judge Kim believes in the good of the world the same way she does.

That can be more refreshing than she expects on some days.

And there are some times—not often times, but some times—where she does manage to take Chief Kang by surprise.

They’ll be in a meeting and he’ll make a remark about something they need to look into and she’ll say she’s already found it. She brings up her notes or the file and tells them what they need to know. She’s gotten quite good at watching them now, especially when they believe that she isn’t there, so she can see the moments when the mask slips and genuine shock slips through.

She likes to think that maybe she knows what one of Kang Yohan’s real smiles might look like.

But moments like that are snatched now, stolen from slogs and slogs of paperwork and meeting and typing until she can hear nothing else, of staring at screens for so long her eyes forget how to blink.

She has a callus on her hand that’s been there since she was a little girl. Her mother had despaired, saying that it would mark her as a poor person, or someone who must work with her hands, but Jinjoo has never minded her callus.

It was a symbol of her hard work. A symbol that she’d done it herself. That a pen had pressed against her hand and she had paid it no mind because she was focused on something much more important than working about how worn her hands looked.

She finds herself rubbing it absentmindedly, while she’s thinking or taking a break. She’s here because she’s worked for it, even if others don’t believe that.

Jung Sunah believes it.

Another pretty face over the shoulder of someone powerful, only her power is wielded as expertly as a sword, sharp and hidden and experienced. She walks unseen by most of the men who surround her and toys with them just as artfully. She is underestimated and she uses that to her advantage to get what she wants.

Part of Jinjoo envies her for that.

She’s met with Jinjoo a few times, some on purpose like the gala Chief Kang took her too, and some on accident like when she’d tripped on the stairs and fallen into her arms.

Sometimes she still thinks about that one.

She thinks about the way she’s been told she sparkles too, or the way Chairwoman Jung said she couldn’t take her eyes off of her. Or the feeling of the pearls slipping around her neck as she looked in the mirror, as she told her about what it means to wield power as a woman.

Part of her wants to lose herself in the lure of Jung Sunah’s guidance. Wants to learn how to be like her. How to use her power and build it. Wants them to sit up and notice her only because they’ve got no other choice. Wants them to see her sparkle the way Jung Sunah does.

But Jinjoo is not as naive as some people believe. Even Jung Sunah.

She felt flattered, yes, of course she did. She won’t deny it caught her off-guard either. But she’s spent too much time around powerful people—Kang Yohan especially—to mistake the slight rasp of the words against her skin that leave her feeling slightly gross.

She will not be a pawn in another person’s game, not as far as she can help it.

So she keeps her smiles embarrassed and genuine, saying she’s not cut out for all that Chairwoman Jung wants her to do, to be. She writes her proposals and saves them for when she knows they will genuinely listen to her. She swallows her disgust and disappointment when they side-step another one of her questions.

It’s hard work, now, masks of her face so often she’s forgetting they’re masks.

Judge Oh.

Oh Jinjoo.

Jinjoo.

But she has work to do.

It’s been a rough few weeks. Everyone around her is gearing up for something and she has no idea what it is, as per usual. Between running around frantically and trying to make sure all the meetings are going well, she’s finding it harder and harder to make sure all of her work is up to its usual standard.

Especially when her colleagues start to interpret her asking for them to do their work as her being lazy.

She’s told it’s her fault if the work is piling up, sent off to do more work. She’s shunned from meetings even more now, told that she can join them when she finishes with the work she’s so worried about. Yawning is met with mocking comments, shaking out her hands the same. Any weakness is met with anger or accusations of lacking integrity, or losing the spirit she had clung so tightly to.

This isn’t the first time she’s been surrounded by sentiments like this. It does sting considerably more.

She doesn’t go home at night. She works until she passes out on the couch and gets right back up again. She’s already at her desk when Judge Kim arrives and she’s still there when he leaves. He never sees her out of her business wear anymore. She still tries to look up and smile, say hello, good morning, but he isn’t responding anymore. She buries her head in her work and tries to drown in it.

Coffee is her best friend how. She drains one, two, three cups minimum before her first meeting and lets it rush through her veins. She debates carrying around a thermos for it but she won’t be able to carry everything else she needs so she ignores it.

And for a while, it works.

But nothing works forever.

She wakes up one morning, pale and shivering. Her chest aches and she can barely use her hands to put her hair up with a claw clip. She shakes as she turns to get her desk and her heel catches on the edge of the chair.

She pitches forward and hits the ground hard, wincing as she pulls herself up. She can’t do this right now, she has work to do. She gets to her desk and settles in, propping herself up as much as she can.

They have a meeting in Chief Kang’s office. She gathers her files into her arms and walks. She doesn’t remember getting to the office, only pushing open the door behind Judge Kim and sitting where directed. Someone must ask her a question and she’s talking about something. She doesn’t know what. Someone tells her to shut up.

She can do that, and she shuts her mouth as the world goes black.

What she doesn’t know is that Judge Kim and Judge Kang had been using her rambling to have their own silent conversation, only paying attention to her again when she hadn’t stopped. Their eyes had widened slightly when she just kept talking. Eventually, Judge Kim had jokingly told her to be quiet only for silence to fall.

Their relief had quickly turned to horror when they realizes she was slumped, unconscious, across the desk.

All she remembers is blinking awake with a headache strong enough to split her forehead and what felt like a building sitting on her chest. She groans. How much of the day has she missed?

And she’d just rearranged her schedule, too.

Jinjoo tries to sit up and her body decides that no, sitting up is not going to happen. Then there’s a call of her name and a pair of hands on her shoulders.

“Judge Oh,” someone is saying, “Judge Oh, can you hear me?”

She blinks. “Judge Kim?”

He smiles and the look of relief on his face is confusing. “Yes, it’s me, are you okay?”

‘What time is it?” She tries to sit up again but he shakes his head, keeping her still.

“It’ll be better for you if you lie down for now,” he says anxiously, “what do you remember?”

She frowns. “I was here for a meeting. Did…did I miss it?”

Judge Kim clenches his jaw and looks up. Jinjoo follows his gaze to see Judge Kang watching both of them with a strange expression.

“You passed out,” he says, “you’ve been asleep for about an hour.”

An hour? She struggles to sit up again only for Judge Kim to keep her from collapsing straight onto the floor.

“I have to—“ she pushes weakly against him— “I’m sorry about missing the meeting but I have to go, I have to call the PD, there’s a—“

“Stop fighting me,” Judge Kim pleads—wait, what?—“You’re going to hurt yourself, just—just take a second.”

“How many projects,” Judge Kang asks, “are you currently working on?”

Jinjoo blinks. “There are press conferences that need to be scheduled with the production department head. One of the archives has a briefing that needs to be filed. They’re transferring to a new system that needs to be documented and installed. The Minister of Justice asked me to look over a set of case files. And…”

She jolts abruptly.

“I need to get back to work.”

Her sudden jolt of movement gets her past Judge Kim, but not Judge Kang. He catches her with surprising gentleness and holds her still. She opens her mouth to order him to let her go when he’s suddenly the only thing keeping her upright.

“Don’t be stupid,” he hisses in her ear, “you’re going to hurt yourself. Just sit on the couch.”

He’s stronger than she is. “You’re not the one who has thirty meetings to reschedule, I need to put off the repeat with—“

“I cleared your schedule, Judge Oh,” he says sharply, cutting her off, “your day is free, so stop trying to leave and sit down.”

“Wait, you what?”

He uses her moment of confusion to put her back on the couch, holding her there and glaring at her.

“You explain what the hell made you take on so many projects.”

Anger wells up inside her. “It’s not like I had a choice!”

“What does that mean?”

“Some of it is routine things that I shouldn’t be doing by myself, but no one else is doing it so I have to.” Tears threaten the corners of her eyes and she forces them back. She will not cry in front of Kang Yohan. She will not. “And when you two won’t tell me what you’re doing, I have to guess! Which means I have to do all the work I think is going to be used only to find out that it isn’t, and then I have to do more work!”

She takes a breath.

“And some of those projects you have assigned me, sir.”

Judge Kang’s jaw clenches and for a moment, Jinjoo’s certain he’s about to yell at her. Then he looks away and she watches his eyes close and…oh.

She looks at Judge Kim, his own jaw working. He won’t meet her eyes either.

Oh.

Part of her is glad they’re feeling awful—they should be—but she just wants them to let her help.

As soon as she starts to say it’s alright, though, both of them cut her off.

“That’s not okay,” Judge Kim mumbles, “we shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“You are a part of this team,” Judge Kang agrees, “and you deserve to know that.”

He looks back at her.

“You do have the rest of the day off. I called and cleared your schedule.”

“…thank you.”

He waves her off. “After all you’ve been doing it’s the least I can do.”

“We’ll catch you up on what we’ve been talking about,” Judge Kim says, “but first you should rest. When’s the last time you actually went home?”

Her silence is enough of an answer.

“When was the last time you ate a full meal?”

More silence.

“Come on,” Judge Kim insists, “we’re all going out to eat, and then you’re going home to get some rest.”

“Don’t bother trying to argue,” Judge Kang whispers as he turns his back on them, leaning closer to Jinjoo, “I’ve tried, it doesn’t work.”

When Jinjoo just blinks up at him, his expression softens. He reaches out a hand and helps her stand, slowly.

“Thank you, Judge Oh,” he says quietly, “for everything that you’ve done.”

At last. Genuine.

Just as they’re about to leave, she stops them. They turn to look at her, concerned.

“There’s another project I’ve been working on,” she says slowly, “and it’s…it’s something you two should know about.”

“What is it?”

“It involves the Minister…and Jung Sunah.”

Because Jinjoo is good. She knows what people think of her and she may not be Jung Sunah, but that doesn’t mean she can’t do things her way.

She spends her time in the archives and talking to people. People see things. People hear things.

And when people don’t notice you, you can get away with an awful lot.

You just have to know how to work for it.

Jinjoo rubs the callus on her finger and raises her chin.

#dragonbabbles #fic #the devil judge

11 notes · View notes