I Became a Law School Genius

Chapter 6

『 Translator – Divinity 』

Before I could reply, Shin Seo-joon abruptly placed his tray on the table.

His meal was the same oven-baked chicken gratin as mine.

It was only natural, as it was his favorite food in the original story.

“…I’ve almost finished eating.”

“It’ll only take a moment. I’m a pretty fast eater.”

Despite my veiled refusal, Shin Seo-joon sat down without a care, scooped a large spoonful of gratin, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Despite his noble, medieval-prince-like appearance, he had quite casual manners.

“Mr. Park Yoo-seung, right? I’m Shin Seo-joon, we presented on the same problem in Criminal Law class for Class A earlier. I was truly… impressed by your presentation.”

“It was just a lucky guess.”

“I thought it was just a question to check our prior knowledge, asking if we knew about defamation, but to think there was another issue hidden within it. I only realized it after hearing your answer. I wondered if this is what a ‘genius’s’ solution looks like, haha.”

Shin Seo-joon bantered affably.

This was also one of his favorite tactics.

Aware of how much people admired and looked up to him, he would conversely lower himself without hesitation and praise the other person.

It was a way to make the other person, elated by the thought of ‘such an amazing person acknowledging me!’, easily develop a favorable impression of him.

Honestly, I felt good about it too.

It was quite an exciting experience to have the protagonist of the original story, whom I had only watched from beyond the screen and envied, praise my solution.

But I couldn’t be swayed.

“I’m busy, so get to the point.”

“Oh my, excuse me.”

Even though I was deliberately being more rude, Shin Seo-joon didn’t change his expression and just kept grinning.

Anyone who didn’t know him would think he had a really good personality, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Shin Seo-joon wasn’t that kind of angelic, goody-two-shoes protagonist.

If anything, he was the opposite.

“Mr. Park Yoo-seung.”

Shin Seo-joon narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of person is a good legal professional?”

His probing gaze pierced me sharply.

‘…This is…’

I know this question.

‘It’s the question he asked Han Seol in the original story.’

Actually, Shin Seo-joon didn’t enter law school purely to study law.

As revealed through the progression of the original story, he had a specific “purpose” for entering Hankuk University Law School.

To him, relationships with other students were merely a means to scout pawns for achieving his goal.

Shin Seo-joon, with his grinning face, concealed his intentions and searched for people he could use.

If you got caught in his radar, you would inevitably be entangled in the main story.

In that thrilling suspense where people die and faculty members are arrested as suspects.

That couldn’t happen.

Didn’t I have a dream to achieve?

A distant goal that would be difficult to achieve even if I focused solely on studying without any distractions.

There was no room to get involved in a scenario that Shin Seo-joon would resolve on his own if left alone.

So I bluntly spat out,

“Someone good at law.”

“…What if he uses his power and knowledge for unjust purposes?”

“Being good at law is justice.”

Shin Seo-joon’s eyebrows twitched.

For a very brief moment, a look of disappointment flashed across his face.

“…Is that so?”

That was it.

Han Seol in the original story had answered, “Someone who applies principles fairly to everyone,” and ended up getting caught in Shin Seo-joon’s web.

The sense of justice of prospective law students was a prey he particularly liked and often exploited.

Shin Seo-joon, who had suddenly become quiet, finished his gratin at an incredible speed, and then left with a simple “Thank you for the meal.”

For now, I had survived.

“Hmm…”

Even if it was to avoid the situation, it still felt unpleasant to speak of injustice.

No matter what anyone said, I dreamed of becoming a prosecutor because I wanted the world to function righteously.

That’s why I said that.

‘Being good at law is justice.’

It’s true.

If someone is not just, then they are not truly good at law.

***

The results of the first exam were announced.

It meant that in just a few days, they had graded not only the multiple-choice questions but also the essay questions, where each person submitted tens of thousands of characters worth of answers.

Were all the professors at Hankuk University Law School monsters?

In the meantime, several civil law, criminal law, and constitutional law classes had passed.

Every time the professor asked a question, Han Seol would eagerly raise her hand and shout out the correct answer. Thanks to her, our group was steadily accumulating points.

Although the remaining member still hadn’t shown up to class… it wasn’t a big problem since Han Seol was doing the work of at least three people.

“Wow, Shin Seo-joon is first again?”

“He’s the top graduate from the Police University. He’s just on a different level in terms of experience.”

“Han Seol is second. She’s really something too.”

I glanced towards the commotion of the students.

The ‘announcement’ of the first exam results wasn’t done through some lukewarm method like individual notifications or checking online through the school website.

Instead, Hankuk University Law School utilized a much more blatant, cruel, and insidious method.

On the wall of the hallway surrounded by students,

There was a notice posted with the first exam scores and rankings of all 150 prospective students, from 1st to 150th place, listed in a row.

1st. Shin Seo-joon
2nd. Han Seol
3rd. Jeong Min-sik
.
.
.

These were the familiar faces from the original story.

For reference, my name was far away from that shining top spot.

139th. Park Yoo-seung… It couldn’t be helped.

I had completely guessed on the multiple-choice section and thrown it away.

Physically, there was no way for the score to be decent.

Perhaps I should be proud of the fact that I managed to surpass eleven people with just the score from the essay questions alone.

“Oh, there’s also a correct answer rate for each question.”

“Look at the correct answer rate for multiple-choice question number 4. 13%? What’s the answer to that?”

“What was question 4 again… Statute of limitations? I don’t know, I guessed on that one too.”

My classmates were talking about things I didn’t know.

Since I hadn’t even read the multiple-choice questions, I couldn’t follow along.

The quality of the questions seemed good at first glance, so I should try solving them for final review after reading the basic books.

“Wow, why is there a score distribution chart for the essay questions too? The professors here are really serious about exams.”

As one student pointed out, the notice didn’t just include the correct answer rates for the multiple-choice questions.

For the eight essay questions, they had also attached a score distribution chart showing the highest and lowest scores for each question.

“What’s with essay question 8? It’s out of 20 points, but only one person got 18 points, and almost everyone else is below 9.”

“Doesn’t this mean only one person got the correct answer and everyone else wrote nonsense?”

“What was question 8? I don’t think there were any difficult questions in the essay section…”

“Wasn’t it that third-party fraud cancellation problem?”

“What? Wasn’t that an easy question they threw in? Is there some kind of trap?”

A fairly academic discussion ensued, but they couldn’t easily agree on what the correct answer was.

Instead, there was only one proposition everyone agreed on.

That 18 points, it must be Shin Seo-joon!

“No, it’s not me.”

However, Shin Seo-joon shook his head.

“I heard that the grades were out, so I went to the professor and asked for feedback on the answer sheet. He took out my answer sheet and showed me, pointing out everything that was wrong. The score I got on question 8 was 11 points.”

The students were amazed.

While we were just looking at the notice and chatting, he went to the professor and got feedback.

It made them think, “No wonder he’s the top student.”

But even Shin Seo-joon couldn’t get the answer right.

They turned to Han Seol and Jeong Min-sik, but they weren’t the ones with the highest score on question 8 either.

“Hey, by any chance… is that you?”

Han Seol asked me with a disbelieving expression.

“It’s not me.”

“…Right. What was I thinking…”

Well, actually, it is me.

Of course, I didn’t say it out loud.

It would be strange for anyone to see the 139th ranked student as the only one with the correct answer.

I almost came under suspicion from Han Seol for my previous performance, so there was no need to step forward.

Anyway, there was only one thing I could say for sure.

I messed up the first exam.

Terribly!

Therefore, to secure the final grade for the pre-law program, I had to get even better scores in the group evaluation and the second exam, which would be held right before the end of the pre-law program.

Han Seol was doing a great job with the group evaluation, but the problem was the second exam.

Less than two weeks remained until the end of the pre-law program, and the second exam, unlike the first, covered the entire scope of civil law and even the general part of criminal law.

It was an exam that other students couldn’t fully prepare for either.

But I was in a position where I had to get top scores.

In the end, it meant I had to study like crazy.

It was the moment I decided to go back and study.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.”

A mocking voice flew from behind me.

“The disgrace of the Business School, the worst delinquent Gwanaksan has ever produced, Mr. Park Yoo-seung himself.”

I turned around and saw a face that seemed familiar from the original story.

“And, who might you be?”

“Bae Hyun-jung! Don’t even think about playing dumb!”

Ah, I remembered him when I heard his name.

Bae Hyun-jung, like Park Yoo-seung, was a character used as an expendable villain.

The difference was that Bae Hyun-jung was actually good at studying and appeared in more episodes than Park Yoo-seung.

Ultimately, they both ended up being dealt with by Shin Seo-joon and exiting the story.

However, that was my memory as a reader, and I didn’t know if Park Yoo-seung had any connection with him.

If I had to guess, I think Bae Hyun-jung was also from the Department of Business Administration, like Park Yoo-seung and Han Seol…

When I shrugged, Bae Hyun-jung flared up and shouted,

“You damn bastard! It’s absurd that someone like you is even at Hankuk University Law School!”

“Well, I am here, though.”

“Ha. You must have done something like cheating on the entrance exam.”

‘Is that true?’

For a moment, I thought it was a plausible theory.

Only those with the highest grades and LEET scores could enter Hankuk University Law School.

It was the same for the law school that served as the real-life model for Hankuk University Law School.

It was indeed a bit of a stretch for a real delinquent like Park Yoo-seung to be admitted.

But what could I do? The author put him in, not me.

When I didn’t respond, Bae Hyun-jung, even more agitated, continued his attack.

“139th place? Pfft, I’d rather drop out than get a rank like that.”

“What’s your rank then?”

“37th!”

“…Not bad.”

It might seem like an ambiguous rank, but you shouldn’t forget that this is Hankuk University Law School, where the nation’s top talents gather.

With that rank here, he could aim for the top three law firms or even a clerkship.

Of course, that’s assuming his current grades hold up.

“Of course. I’m different from inferior trash like you from birth.”

Bae Hyun-jung sneered.

Right, Bae Hyun-jung was this kind of character.

He would grovel endlessly to those better than him, but treat those he considered beneath him however he pleased.

I found his behavior quite amusing, so I commented,

“If you’re so superior, why didn’t you answer earlier? Don’t let someone ranked 139th steal points from you in broad daylight.”

“Th-that’s…!”

Bae Hyun-jung’s face turned crimson.

Indeed, it must have been a blow to his pride.

No one present could answer Jang Yong-hwan’s question.

Except for Shin Seo-joon and me.

He could accept being outdone by Shin Seo-joon.

But the fact that I, someone he looked down upon, solved a problem he couldn’t must have been a tremendous shock to him.

Enough to make him want to deny reality.

“H-Han Seol! Right. Seol, who’s in the same group, must have told you! You didn’t answer it yourself!”

Bae Hyun-jung sputtered in desperation.

“Hey, he called you ‘Seol’? Do you know him?”

“Don’t you know? He hit on me and got rejected during our undergraduate days. He’s still like that.”

I whispered to Han Seol, who was standing next to me, and she whispered back.

Ah, so that’s their relationship.

Seeing that, Bae Hyun-jung’s expression turned ashen.

“…Seol is going through a lot. Being in the same group as that loser and having to take care of him. Why don’t you join the study group I’m forming…”

“Hey.”

Han Seol cut Bae Hyun-jung off.

“You seem to be mistaken about something. I’m not with him because I have to. Of course, it would have been much better if I had been in a group with someone else, but at least Park Yoo-seung has proven his worth.”

“You think so? That’s touching.”

I didn’t expect Han Seol to voluntarily defend me.

Although it seemed like she added a phrase that would have been better left unsaid, anyway.

“And that ‘someone else’ doesn’t include you.”

A sharp rejection.

It was the moment that firmly declared the inequality: Park Yoo-seung > Bae Hyun-jung.

“…You trash. You must have buttered up kind Seol.”

Unfortunately, Bae Hyun-jung didn’t listen.

“Just you wait. Hiding behind Seol and comfortably earning points will be over soon.”

Leaving those words behind, Bae Hyun-jung gritted his teeth and left.

“…What a disgusting guy, really.”

Han Seol grumbled as she watched him leave.