CHAPTER 77: LAWYER CHOI.

"Ten grand a drop, huh? Even if I get five pieces tonight, that’s fifty grand! Who needs college when you have Brother Hao’s wallet?"

The group chat buzzed with excitement; the guild was practically frothing at the mouth.

Chen Cong smiled faintly. With money as motivation, his men would grind until their keyboards broke. By tomorrow, he’d have the whole new set.

"And then, shill or not, I’ll crush you," he muttered darkly.

Back in reality, Suho logged off and stretched, feeling the sweet taste of revenge still on his lips.

Finally, his mood had improved.

"Mr. Kim, look at this."

Cho Rin hurried over with her phone, her brow creased.

On the screen was a breaking news headline:

"Top Law Firm Loses Case, Rick and Sons Group Furious, Lead Lawyer Resigns."

Underneath, a blurry but unmistakable photo: Lawyer Yeji, looking utterly defeated.

Suho blinked. "Lawyer Yeji... resigned? What’s going on here?"

The article explained everything:Choi Yeji, an "elite" lawyer of Tiandi Law Firm, had lost a major case for Rick and Sons Group, resulting in both financial damages and reputational disaster. The fallout forced him to resign.

The comment section was merciless:

"Pfft, some ’elite lawyer.’ The evidence was ironclad, and he still lost."

"I may not be an elite, but even I wouldn’t have lost this one."

"He cost Rick and Sons over a million in compensation. What a waste of a necktie."

Suho rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Normally, he wouldn’t care about some lawyer’s fall from grace—but the number stuck with him.

One million.

If his company got sued and lost, a single case could cost him millions. That was enough to wipe out half his system funds in an instant.

Yet his company had no legal department.

"Well," Suho muttered, "guess it’s time to build one."

He turned to Cho Rin. "What’s the salary range of lawyers these days?"

Cho Rin thought for a moment. "Ordinary lawyers make around $10,000 a year. With more experience, it’s about $200,000 to $300,000. If they’re elites, $500,000 to $700,000. And if they’re partners at big firms... well, the sky’s the limit."

Suho leaned back with a sly grin. Perfect. Another chance to burn through my funds in style.

Listening to Cho Rin’s explanation about lawyer salaries, Kim Suho rubbed his chin.

If I set up a legal department, do I need at least one elite lawyer?

He almost burst out laughing. His original genius plan was to recruit a dozen clueless interns and guarantee defeat every time they went to court. But no—his dogecoin system had to block loopholes again.

[Minimum requirement: Department must be headed by an elite lawyer.]

Suho clicked his tongue. "This stupid system doesn’t let me breathe."

But then his eyes lit up. Elite lawyer? Fine. He knew one who looked elite but had just publicly lost a case.

Choi Yeji.

His childhood friend. The same girl who used to chase him around the Kim family’s mansion with a plastic hammer, swearing she’d marry him one day. Now she was Chicago’s "fallen flower," roasted by the media for losing a lawsuit against the Rick and Son Group.

High title, low stats. Perfect for burning money.

And, if he was being honest, Yeji’s hopeless crush on him made things easier. He could practically picture her puppy-dog eyes the moment he snapped his fingers.

Choi Yeji stirred her latte absentmindedly, her slim fingers tapping the cup. Her once razor-sharp lawyer’s aura was dulled, but when she saw Suho walking in, dressed casually yet radiating chaebol arrogance, her heart did its usual backflip.

Why does he look even better than when we were kids? Life is unfair.

She adjusted her glasses quickly, trying to hide her flushed cheeks. "Suho... no—Mr. Kim. Don’t tell me you’re here to buy out another company? The last two times we met, you practically robbed people blind."

Suho laughed. "I’m not here to buy anything this time. I saw your news."

Yeji’s smile faltered. Her chest tightened. So he really saw it... my most humiliating moment.

"Then you invited me here... what? To watch me cry into my coffee?" she said, half-joking, half-defensive.

"Of course not," Suho smirked. He nodded at Cho Rin, who slid an envelope across the table.

Yeji blinked. "What’s this?"

"Employment letter."

When she opened it, her breath caught. Director of Legal Department, Steel Cup Group. Annual salary: $1,000,000.

She froze.

This was higher than anything she had earned at Rick and Son Law Firm, even at her peak. And now? With her reputation in ruins, every firm she’d applied to had politely—or rudely—slammed the door in her face.

Yet here was Kim Suho, her childhood friend, tossing her a lifeline wrapped in gold foil.

Her lips trembled. "Aren’t you worried? My reputation is mud. People are saying I’m finished. If I come under your company’s name, it could stain you too."

Suho leaned back leisurely, legs crossed, that infuriatingly smug grin plastered on his face. "Yeji, that’s exactly why I want you. An elite lawyer who specializes in losing? You’re tailor-made for me."

Yeji choked. "Wha—what do you mean by that?!"

Suho waved it off. "Relax. My company doesn’t need to win lawsuits. In fact, losing is... let’s say, part of the business plan."

Cho Rin coughed into her hand, trying to suppress her laugh.

Yeji’s face turned red. Her heart was torn between wanting to smack him with her legal textbook and wanting to hug him on the spot. He doesn’t even realize... I’ve liked him since middle school, and here he is telling me I’m perfect because I’m a professional loser.

Suho, blissfully unaware of the war in her chest, tapped the contract with his finger. "So, Choi Yeji, childhood friend, hopeless crush-holder, future company lawyer—do we have a deal?"

Yeji stared at him for a long moment. Then she let out a breath and smiled faintly, eyes soft.

"For you, Suho... always."

"Ahem! I will use my experience to make your company better, Suho; don’t worry."