I Became a Law School Genius

Chapter 32
『 Translator – Divinity 』

ConLaw’s office was on the top floor of the law building.

Passing through a quiet hallway rarely visited by people, I opened the office door, and a mountain of law books and papers greeted me.

“Come in.”

As I stepped inside, ConLaw closed the door behind me with a click.

“Actually,”

ConLaw began in a low voice.

“I know.”

It was an abrupt start.

“That my classes aren’t welcomed. That students are fed up with broad and deep, academic law… It’s not really your fault.”

“…”

“It’s just that this law school system makes it that way.”

ConLaw looked out the window.

“It’s only three years. Law is such a vast and profound field of study; there’s no way to perfectly conquer it in three years. In the end, the problem is how to study efficiently and pass the exam… students have no choice but to focus on that.”

‘So you knew all along?’

“But. But you see,”

He still had his back to me.

“Someone has to protect it.”

“Protect it?”

“Academic law. Learning and teaching. Depth and foundation.”

ConLaw continued,

“Many things have changed. Now, the entire law school institution is focused on helping students pass the bar exam and producing impressive outputs. I hear that our professors’ lectures are now more exam-oriented than those of the so-called star instructors in private academies.”

“Isn’t that enough?” he added.

“Shouldn’t at least one person, just one person, be allowed to declare that the lineage of academic law hasn’t died out in this country, that I am protecting it?”

“…”

ConLaw’s back, as he spoke, seemed very tired and lonely.

A small warrior fighting alone against the tide of the times.

Whether I agreed with his belief or opposed it, the weight he carried was palpable at that moment.

“I said there was something I wanted to show you, student Park Yoo-seung.”

ConLaw opened a drawer and took out a binder, handing it to me.

“Professor, this is…?”

“It’s a thesis I finished writing today. It’s for personal research purposes, so I probably won’t publish it.”

ConLaw waved his hand dismissively, as if telling me to leave.

“Take it. I’d like you to read through it and give me your thoughts.”

“And,” ConLaw added,

“How you ‘utilize’ this… is up to you, student Park Yoo-seung.”

‘Why is he suddenly giving me an unpublished thesis? Oh, could it be?!’

How I utilize this is up to me. As I pondered those words, a thought struck me, and I flipped through the binder.

The title, emblazoned on the first page:

[Scope and Limits of Autonomy of National Universities – Focusing on the Application of the Principle of Legality]

The principle of legality.

It was a keyword included in the midterm exam scope, which I had also included in Lee Ha-ru’s program, ‘Effortless’.

‘…Did he put this on the exam?’

A question about evaluating the autonomy of national universities based on the principle of legality.

Considering ConLaw’s usual question-setting style, it seemed quite possible.

‘This is a blind spot.’

I had previously argued that ConLaw would set questions on topics he considered important at the time of creating the exam, meaning relatively recent research topics.

This was proven by the existence of papers corresponding to all the past exam questions.

But if that was true, wouldn’t the topic he was ‘currently’ researching be the one he was most interested in and considered most important?

I hadn’t thought that he might also include questions from his unpublished, ongoing thesis.

It was understandable.

How could I have anticipated that a professor, already busy with administrative tasks and lecture preparations, would be writing a new research paper while simultaneously working on the midterm exam?

Most law school professors didn’t produce even a tenth of the academic writings that ConLaw did.

It was something only he could do, a man who dedicated his soul to academic law.

‘The fact that he deliberately gave me this must mean it’s on the exam, right?’

The subtle emphasis and accent in his voice when he said I could use it however I wanted.

Unless I was completely clueless, I couldn’t miss it.

In a way, it was a golden opportunity.

The summaries we prepared in the study group were the essence of the essence, but this was like being given the questions and answers outright.

But,

‘Is it okay to just accept this?’

This was different from gathering and reviewing already published papers.

Those were materials accessible to everyone, and since we didn’t know exactly which paper the questions would come from, we went through the trouble of gathering people and dividing the workload.

But this thesis was different.

Since it was unpublished, only I could see it.

Moreover, it was given to me by the professor himself, the one who created the exam.

Wouldn’t this be considered leaking questions and cheating?

“Professor.”

“…”

The great legal scholar looked at me.

No, wait. Standing there was just a human being.

An ordinary man tired of a lonely fight where no one took his side.

What was he thinking when he handed me this thesis?

“Professor, I…”

I couldn’t fathom it. Then, there was only one thing I could do.

“I think this thesis is too valuable to just read by myself.”

“…!”

“Even for the sake of the ‘learning’ you mentioned, would it be alright if I summarize and organize this thesis myself and share it with my classmates?”

At least, I could prevent him from having a small blemish on his life that he might regret forever.

“Since it’s an unpublished thesis, I’ll make sure it doesn’t leak outside. Instead, I want to use it as reference material during class so that my classmates can deepen their understanding.”

This would do.

It’s a common case for exam questions to come directly from reference materials brought in by the professor.

The difference from me reading it alone was that everyone would be able to see this material, making it a fair competition.

Of course, I wasn’t going to spoon-feed them and tell them that this would be on the exam.

I deserved this much of an advantage after all the hard work I put in.

Still, anyone with a bit of sense would read the few pages of the summary before the exam.

I could also expect an additional effect.

Those who managed to get even one question right thanks to the summary I distributed would be grateful to me after the exam.

Since it would be disadvantageous for me to remain a hated person in various activities, it wouldn’t be bad to try to improve my image at this point.

More than anything, the great thing was that I wasn’t losing anything.

ConLaw’s midterm exam consisted of two questions.

Even if one question came from this thesis, the other question would still come from the 12 summaries we prepared in the study group.

Grades were ultimately a relative evaluation.

Even if everyone managed to answer one question correctly thanks to the thesis I shared, the rankings would be determined by the other question.

It meant there was no reason to be greedy and do something borderline unethical.

Considering the difficulty of ConLaw’s exams, the high scores would belong to us anyway.

“…You continue to surprise me, student.”

ConLaw stood frozen as if struck by lightning at my suggestion, then let out a hollow laugh and lowered his head.

“Thank you. I almost became someone ashamed of himself.”

ConLaw let out a soft sigh.

“Do as you wish. The deadline… there’s exactly one class left before the exam. Would that be alright?”

“Yes. I’ll prepare by then.”

“Alright. …You can leave now. I’m a bit tired.”

And so, I left ConLaw’s office.

For a while, I thought I could hear the irregular sound of footsteps from beyond the door, as if he was pacing in anguish.

***

When I returned to the classroom for the next lecture, Lee Ha-ru and Han Seol approached me with worried expressions.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, nothing happened.”

I briefly explained to them what had happened in the office.

“…That’s not ‘nothing happened’.”

“I thought for a second… that Master was going to become a graduate student.”

What a terrifying thought.

“We’re already graduate students.”

“Huh. That’s true.”

Something like that did happen occasionally during my undergraduate days in my past life.

A classmate who gave a performance that perfectly satisfied the professor’s heart would be kidnapped to the research lab and then dragged off to graduate school after graduation, a chilling tale.

But we were already graduate students. With the word ‘professional’ attached to it, but still.

He might suggest a doctoral program or something after we graduate, but that was a distant concern for now.

There was no way I would become a human rights-deprived slave, dedicating my life to academia.

“But I’m relieved.”

Han Seol nodded.

“About what?”

“That I didn’t misjudge you. If you had just taken that and used it for yourself, or if you had tried to circulate it only among us, I would have been very disappointed.”

‘Ah, that’s what you meant.’

That would have been clearly crossing the line from Han Seol’s perspective.

I still had many roles for Han Seol to play; I couldn’t afford to be cut off already.

‘In the first place, unfair victories aren’t my style.’

What would be the point of getting a good score like that?

As we were having these various discussions, the clock struck 2 PM. This class was none other than Criminal Law.

The door swung open, and Jang Yong-hwan entered the classroom with perfect timing.

‘As expected of a man who’s punctual.’

He might arrive a little early, but he was never late.

There were few professors who kept to the starting and ending times as strictly as Jang Yong-hwan.

I wondered if this punctuality was the foundation of his illustrious career.

“Now then,”

As Jang Yong-hwan began to speak, the students, who had been chatting amongst themselves, fell silent and straightened their postures.

Not only were his lectures excellent, but Jang Yong-hwan also had a kind of charisma that could be felt on an instinctive level.

Like herbivores facing a lion, overwhelmed by its presence, he drew everyone’s attention to himself.

I unconsciously tensed up and focused on his every word.

As if he had given them enough time to settle down, Jang Yong-hwan began.

“I would like to say… let’s begin today’s lecture, but,”

It was a different greeting than usual.

“Unfortunately, it seems that won’t be possible today.”

‘Ah, is this that scene?’

“Something urgent came up, and I have to go somewhere for a while. Therefore, there will be no class today.”

It was a scene that also happened in the original story.

On this day, Jang Yong-hwan left to meet a witness for ‘a certain case’ that he had been investigating since his time as a prosecutor.

It was an important case related to the reason Shin Seo-joon entered Hankuk University Law School, and also to the final boss of the original story.

It seemed like the main scenario was about to start rolling.

I had to stay alert to avoid getting swept up.

‘In the Law School’ was a very eventful story.

There were many things I had to do to prepare, and I had already organized them in my head to some extent.

However,

What I needed to worry about right now was a more immediate issue.

“So, is it canceled then?”

Someone raised their hand and asked.

“You make it sound like we’re free now.”

Laughter filled the classroom.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the case. You’re paying millions of won per semester in tuition, how can a professor like me just abandon class because of personal matters?”

Jang Yong-hwan raised a hand.

“Teaching assistants, are you ready?”

As if that was the signal, the teaching assistants marched into the classroom from both sides, carrying large paper bags.

“Will this envelope be alright, Professor?”

“Yes, it is. Please distribute them.”

Question marks floated in the students’ expressions.

But I knew. The identity of what was inside those envelopes.

“…Exam papers?”

Han Seol muttered as she received her envelope and opened it.

In front of her were neatly arranged exam papers, several pages long.

Glancing at them, they seemed to be Criminal Law multiple-choice questions.

The same envelope was suddenly dropped in front of me.

“Those are questions I created for this exam but didn’t end up using. In other words, they’re discarded.”

“But,” Jang Yong-hwan added,

“Even though they’re discarded, they’re questions I made. I can guarantee their difficulty and quality. And for you, it’s an opportunity to get a sense of how this exam will be structured.”

“Ooh…”

The students, who were initially unsure, finally picked up the exam papers cautiously as if handling precious treasures.

As Jang Yong-hwan said, these exam questions were the best learning material for preparing for the Criminal Law midterm.

In terms of level and type, they were almost identical to the questions Jang Yong-hwan would put on the midterm.

But was Jang Yong-hwan the type to hand out such carrots for free?

Everyone knew that was impossible.

“Today’s class will be replaced with solving these problems. Those who finish can submit them to the teaching assistants and leave.”

It would be unwise to try to leave quickly by solving them carelessly. Jang Yong-hwan added,

“The syllabus states that 10% of the grade is based on assignments. That score will be determined by the results of the exam papers submitted today.”

In other words, they weren’t just practice problems.

Since they were reflected in the actual grade, we had to put in our utmost effort to solve them.

10% was a significant portion, enough to shift the rankings by dozens of places.

“Oh, what do we do?”

“I’m doomed. Multiple-choice questions require memorization until right before the exam.”

“I just glanced at the first page, and there are so many confusing questions…”

As if finally grasping the situation, groans erupted here and there.

Even for exams on the same concept and scope, the way to prepare for multiple-choice and essay questions is completely different.

In essay exams, you have to write long answers yourself.

Therefore, you have to memorize the entire logical structure of each issue and the core keywords of the legal principles so well that you can recite them even in your sleep.

But you can refer to the law book, and the scope of the questions is limited to major issues with room for logical arguments and interpretation.

Therefore, the amount to memorize is surprisingly small. You just have to familiarize yourself with each one thoroughly.

On the other hand, anything can be tested in multiple-choice questions.

Trivial one-line precedent conclusions could appear, or even a single word in a legal provision could be slightly changed and included in the options.

Therefore, the sheer amount of information to memorize was overwhelming.

However, since you only needed to be able to read the options and distinguish between true and false, the depth of understanding required was less.

It was enough to read them repeatedly and familiarize yourself with them.

This kind of broad and shallow knowledge is highly volatile.

That’s why someone who read it twice right before entering the exam hall could solve the problems better with a clearer memory than someone who read it ten times long before the exam.

Examinees are creatures who always prioritize efficiency.

In the end, it meant that studying for multiple-choice questions had to be postponed until the very last minute.

‘Even if you read it beforehand, you’ll forget it anyway.’

Therefore, an unannounced multiple-choice exam was a bolt from the blue.

It was a structure where even the most skilled person couldn’t be fully prepared.

Not to mention that the examiner was Jang Yong-hwan, a master of setting malicious traps.

“Don’t be too scared,”

Jang Yong-hwan reassured the students.

“It’s not shameful to be unprepared for a surprise multiple-choice exam. Well, unless you’ve scraped together all the multiple-choice options from past years and marked them somewhere, reading them repeatedly every day, it’s natural not to do well.”

Jang Yong-hwan said jokingly,

“You’re not even third-year students facing the bar exam, there’s no way there’s already such a crazy person among the first-years, right?”