dkrc Chapter 210 The final chapter, a painful reality: the results are released.
Chapter 210 The final chapter, a painful reality: the results are released.
Chapter 210 The final chapter, a painful reality: the results are released.
There are less than twelve hours left until the results of the National Judicial Examination are released.
On this long, highly anticipated night, Fuji Television unleashed a super move—airing the final three episodes of "Legal High" back-to-back, directly pushing the show's popularity to its peak.
This final episode is written with an extremely sharp and realistic script, focusing on a thorny issue that all ordinary people may encounter: the "right to sunlight" and real estate disputes.
The plot begins in a very typical way: a once quiet and peaceful residential area where residents painstakingly saved up to buy houses, drawn by the good environment and ample natural light. However, this idyllic situation is short-lived. A large real estate developer suddenly buys the adjacent land, planning to build a super high-rise luxury apartment building. Once completed, the original residential area will be completely deprived of sunlight, leaving residents living in darkness every day.
Angry residents formed a protest alliance and took the developer to court.
In this case, Kensuke Komikado, as always, sided with the wealthy. He accepted a hefty commission from the developer to represent the defendant in court against the seemingly disadvantaged and tearful ordinary residents.
The moment the storyline aired, it resonated strongly with television viewers across Japan.
What's even more brilliant is that this script is practically a direct, face-to-face attack on the arrogant lawyer Yoshioka in real life. This is because Yoshioka's recent controversial victory in a case represented the crushing of ordinary people by unscrupulous capitalists.
At this very moment, in an old apartment building somewhere in Tokyo.
The victims who had previously lost to Attorney Yoshioka and been evicted by the developer in real life were sitting in front of the TV, watching this episode of "Legal High" with complicated expressions.
At first, when they saw Komekado defending the developer in court, they were trembling with anger, as if they were seeing the cold-blooded and ruthless Yoshioka in real life again. But as the plot deepened and the trial entered a heated debate, Komekado's highly aggressive, even "fallacious" lines were like a scalpel, cruelly cutting open the boundary between law and morality.
In court, facing the residents' representatives' tearful accusations of "Give us back our sunshine and our human rights," Kitahara Shin, playing Komekado, with his side-parted hair, gave an extremely arrogant sneer.
He launched into a rapid-fire, machine-gun-like speech: "You keep saying that the developers have robbed you of your sunshine, you're practically treating yourselves as victims of nature! But please recall, wasn't this land you live on a dense forest fifty years ago?"
To build your own comfortable haven, you cut down trees, drove away birds and beasts, and poured cement onto the soil! At that time, to whom could the animals of the forest protest the deprivation of their "right to sunlight"?
"Human progress and urban development are built upon constant upheaval and reconstruction! You've enjoyed the conveniences of modernization, yet now you want to use hypocritical moral blackmail to stop developers who legally purchase land from building? The law isn't for pitying the tears of the weak; the law only values contracts and evidence! If you feel your sunlight is blocked, then make more money and move to a higher floor! That's the truth of capitalism!"
These lines came out of Kitahara Shin's mouth in a rapid-fire manner, coupled with his exaggerated expression of smugness and extreme irritation, leaving everyone in front of the TV dumbfounded.
On internet forums and BBS late at night, the comments and bullet screens were practically exploding. Countless viewers were cursing Komekado as a cold-blooded and ruthless bastard lawyer, wishing they could jump into the screen and beat him up.
However, just when all the viewers' hatred for Komekado reached its peak and thought that the commoner was going to suffer a tragic defeat, Legal High ushered in its landmark and shocking reversal!
The scene shifts, and Komekado privately finds the pregnant "residents' representative" who has been leading the residents' protests and appears righteous.
Komekado abandoned his arrogance in court and, with a sharp eye that was extremely insightful into human nature, directly exposed the true desires deep in the hearts of the residents.
"Stop using environmental protection and sunshine conservation as a fig leaf! The baby in your belly doesn't lack sunlight at all; what you lack is the tuition for your child to attend a prestigious private kindergarten! All of you making such a big fuss isn't trying to stop the building's construction; you're just trying to escalate the situation to extort more money!"
The pregnant woman's facade was exposed, and her defenses crumbled.
Immediately afterwards, Komekado did not act like a cold-blooded demon and kill them all. Instead, he presented them with a high-value settlement agreement that he had personally drafted.
It turns out that Komekado had long seen through the nature of this lawsuit: in the face of legitimate commercial development, ordinary people could never win by fighting to the bitter end; they would only end up losing both their money and their lives. Therefore, he used his strong pressure in court to force the wealthy developer to back down, securing a huge compensation for these ordinary people that far exceeded the market price!
The final outcome was that the residents received a hefty sum of money, happily withdrew their lawsuit, and excitedly began planning for a better life; the developer paid to settle the matter and started construction smoothly; while the opposing lawyer, who claimed to be fighting to the death for "justice" and "civilian human rights," was instead seen as a clown who was hindering ordinary people from getting rich and only wanted to satisfy his own sense of moral superiority.
This plot twist left all Japanese television viewers stunned and utterly speechless!
Those fans who were originally cursing Komekado on the forum stopped typing in mid-air.
• "My God—he had planned all this all along?"
• "I cried! Komikado, who seemed the most vicious and cold-blooded, actually gave those ordinary people the most genuine salvation!"
"What kind of lofty morality is this? In real life, what matters most is the tangible money you can hold and use to improve your life! That's the adult world!"
• "Kitahara Shin's script is absolutely brilliant! It completely strips away the fig leaf of humanity and society!"
Even the victims who had lost to Attorney Yoshioka in real life were completely stunned while sitting in front of the television. They suddenly realized that if their lawyers had been like Komeka, avoiding hypocritical confrontation and instead seeking substantial compensation, their lives wouldn't be in such dire straits now.
This is what they call "false virtue is not as good as true evil"!
This extremely insightful analysis of human nature elevates the theme of this drama to a level that ordinary TV series simply cannot reach.
The clock hands quietly struck midnight.
The final episode of Legal High ended with Komikado's signature exaggerated laughter as he counted a wad of cash, and Mayuzumi Machiko's (Takako Matsu) complex expression of existential doubt, with the words "The End" displayed on the screen.
Viewers across Japan were left wanting more, their shock lingering long afterward. This incredible final twist sent the finale's ratings soaring to new heights. The entire Fuji TV network's president was so overjoyed that he popped champagne into his office.
All the hype, all the amazement, all the glory—at this moment, it all focused on Shin Kitahara. Whether it was the Cannes Grand Prix or the legendary status of *Legal High*, both proved his absolute dominance in cultural export.
And at this time, under the cover of night.
Only eight hours remain until the official release of the National Judicial Examination results. Everyone is holding their breath, awaiting the final storm that will rage after dawn.
At 9:00 AM the following morning, the official website and offline bulletin boards of the Japanese Ministry of Justice will officially announce the final list of passers and rankings for this year's National Judicial Examination.
Can that young tycoon who manipulates the law in the show and wins the highest honor in Cannes create a miracle again in the most rigorous test of reality?
The long night is ending, but the storm is coming.
At dawn in Kasumigaseki, a peculiar sight appeared in front of the Japanese Ministry of Justice building, a sight never before seen in previous years.
In the past, when the results of the National Judicial Examination were released, this place would only be filled with pale-faced, nervous law students and those who had taken time off work to prepare for the exam. But today, the streets outside the building are packed with broadcast vans from major television stations and entertainment reporters with their long lenses and microphones.
Officials from the Ministry of Justice, watching from behind the window, were utterly astonished. They never imagined that a traditionally dull, serious, and extremely rigid national qualification exam would ignite unprecedented public attention because of a major entertainment star.
The feelings of those candidates who were crowded in the crowd waiting to see their results can only be described as "painful yet joyful".
In the past, when they took this hellishly difficult exam, they actually longed to show off. However, the general public simply didn't understand what the extremely low pass rate of the bar exam really meant, so even if they wanted to achieve that, they could only amuse themselves within their own circles, unable to explain its high value to outsiders.
Now, thanks to Kitahara Shin's crossover challenge, the entire nation knows just how insane this exam is. Test takers walk with their heads held high in front of relatives and friends. But at the same time, this excessive societal focus brings immense psychological pressure. The fear of failing feels like the whole of Japan is laughing at them. This contradictory psychology of wanting to be the center of attention yet fearing embarrassment is extremely agonizing.
At the same time, another astonishing scene unfolded in the data analysis room of Fuji Television.
The detailed ratings report for last night's finale of *Legal High* is already on the executives' desks. While it may not yet possess the same level of national acclaim as a serious medical drama like *The White Tower*, *Legal High*...
The final episode of "High" unsurprisingly broke the 30% mark in average viewership ratings!
What makes data analysts even more uneasy is the "segmented viewership curve" that is like a roller coaster.
They discovered an extremely absurd pattern: the highest ratings for the entire series always occurred when Kensuke Komikado acted obnoxiously in court, spouting nonsense and even displaying that extremely despicable and obnoxious demeanor. The more obnoxious Kitahara Shin's smile was on screen and the more venomous his lines were, the more insanely the ratings soared.
The top executives stared at the data, lost in deep thought.
Could it be that Japanese audiences today actually crave these "cheeky" and unconventional protagonists deep down? They immediately started considering whether to have the scriptwriting department follow suit and mass-produce a batch of "sharp-tongued bully" protagonists with flexible moral boundaries to capitalize on this trend.
But when they recalled events from a few years ago, that idea was instantly extinguished. Back then, after Kitahara Nobu finished filming "Tokyo Love Story," a large number of similar pure love dramas flooded the market, only to be completely disastrous.
The executives sighed helplessly. Kitahara Shin's success was built on his god-like looks, his terrifyingly solid command of dialogue, and a uniquely relaxed performance rhythm. The same obnoxious lines, delivered by an ordinary actor, would only make the audience feel greasy and disgusted, and they would have changed the channel long ago.
This person is completely irreplaceable.
At 9:00 AM, the Ministry of Justice simultaneously issued offline notices of the results and individual performance reports.
Kitahara Shin sat in the president's office of Kitahara Office, looking at the official report card in his hand that he had obtained in advance through internal channels, and a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.
Instead of immediately holding a noisy press conference, he picked up the landline on the table and dialed the private number of Yomiuri Shimbun president, Tsuneo Watanabe.
The two met by chance while fishing at Lake Tanzawa near Izumi Sakai's hometown. Watanabe Tsuneo, a dominant figure in the Japanese media, greatly admired Kitahara Shin's composed and unyielding demeanor. When Kitahara Shin faced criticism from traditional media, the Yomiuri Shimbun, with its massive scale, consistently provided objective and fair reporting, offering significant public support. Now, holding this bombshell exclusive story, Kitahara Shin naturally wanted to reciprocate.
The call was connected.
Kitahara Shin: "President Watanabe, excuse me. I already have this year's bar exam results. I plan to have this exclusive report published first by the Yomiuri Shimbun."
On the other end of the phone, Watanabe Tsuneo's voice was still that of a deep, steady, and authoritative old-fashioned leader.
"It's Kitahara-kun. You've been making quite a splash in Europe lately. Exclusive news? Looks like you not only won the Cannes Grand Prix, but you also conquered the notoriously difficult bar exam. The Yomiuri Shimbun can certainly handle this headline."
This media mogul did not show any exaggerated flattery; all cooperation was based on an equal footing of mutual benefit.
Watanabe Tsuneo paused for a moment, then continued.
"However, since you're going to use the Yomiuri Shimbun's space to voice your opinion, aren't you planning to write this press release yourself? Your previous column in our newspaper was always very sharp. Now that you're a full-fledged screenwriter who has won international awards, having you write this article yourself would be the most impactful."
Kitahara Shin thought for a moment and readily agreed.
"Okay, then I'll write a copy and fax it over myself."
After hanging up the phone, Kitahara Shin pulled over the keyboard.
With the boost from [Super Memory] and his equipment, his mind was incredibly sharp, and his thoughts flowed effortlessly. He didn't need any drafts at all; his hands moved like blurs across the keyboard, and a news article, full of Komekado's style, sharp wit, rigorous logic, and hidden brilliance, was completed in less than twenty minutes.
After verifying that everything was correct, he pressed the send button and faxed the fax to the Yomiuri Shimbun headquarters.
That afternoon, the Yomiuri Shimbun's emergency reprint of a special evening edition was like a bombshell, dropped directly on the streets and alleys of Japan.
The newspaper's front page prominently featured an article written by Kitahara Shin himself, along with a copy of the transcript bearing the official seal of the Ministry of Justice.
On this official report card, Kitahara Shin's combined scores in the written and oral exams were astonishingly high, placing him among the top ten in this year's National Judicial Examination!
Not only did he pass the grueling exam with a passing rate of only 2%, but he also crushed countless top law students from the University of Tokyo and Waseda University who had studied hard for many years, and stood at the very top of the pyramid!
The article written by Kitahara Shin himself was even more scathing, every word of which was piercing to the heart.
In the first half of the article, he calmly shared the joys of studying law, showcasing the remarkable literary talent of a Cannes screenwriter. However, at the end, he abruptly shifted his focus, directly and explicitly criticizing the constantly erratic lawyer, Yoshioka.
"The law is a rigorous yardstick; it never favors anyone, nor should it be used as a shield for some people to spout nonsense on television to satisfy their narrow-minded pride. Attorney Yoshioka previously taught me on a program that exams and acting are two different things. Now that the results are out, I wholeheartedly agree with his point of view—because for some people, whether in court or on television, playing the role of a respectable professional is indeed much more difficult than getting good grades."
The moment this evening paper was released, it triggered a massive earthquake across Japan. Public opinion was in an uproar, and all the conservatives who had been waiting to see the country fail experienced firsthand what true despair and suffocation meant.
The first to be targeted was naturally lawyer Ji Feng, who was named and publicly "executed".
A deathly silence filled the private office of a high-end law firm in Tokyo.
Yoshioka stared intently at the reprinted Yomiuri Shimbun evening paper spread out on the table, his hands trembling slightly uncontrollably.
The color drained from his face; every word of that sharp, incisive article felt like a resounding slap across the face of his once proud elite.
"Top ten—how is this possible?!"
Yoshioka muttered to himself, utterly dejected. If Kitahara Shin had barely passed, he might have been able to force a sarcastic remark about "good luck." But a top ten nationwide—that was a terrifying score that completely crushed the so-called "legal system." This meant that Kitahara Shin not only understood law, but was more proficient than 99.9% of licensed lawyers nationwide!
What chilled him even more was the incessant vibration of the landline phone on his desk. It was all calls from colleagues and rivals. He knew without answering that while they were ostensibly trying to "comfort" him, they were actually there to laugh at him, this clown making a fool of himself in front of a national audience. In the legal profession, where reputation and image are paramount, his social death was inevitable.
Those who were most affected by this storm were the candidates who took the bar exam this year.
At a well-known bar exam prep school (cram school) in Jimbocho, Tokyo, the corridors were filled with students who had just seen their bar exam results.
A heartbreaking sense of despair and absurdity permeated the air.
A seasoned prodigy who had been taking the bar exam full-time for four consecutive years looked at his failing grade sheet, then glanced at the news report on TV about Kitahara Shin's success in the bar exam, and suddenly leaned against the wall, laughing and crying at the same time.
"I study for fourteen hours a day, even dreaming about memorizing legal provisions—and him? In the past few months, he filmed a TV series that broke viewership records, casually wrote a phenomenal script that won a Cannes Film Festival award, and even went on vacation to France!" The student covered his face, tears streaming down his face through his fingers. "Is the gap between genius and ordinary people really bigger than that between a person and a dog?"
For these law students who had staked their youth and even their lives on exams, Kitahara Shin's grades were a ruthless crushing of their pride. They suddenly realized that their prized "prestigious university degrees" and "excessive hard work" were utterly worthless in the face of a true monster.
This shock also profoundly impacted countless parents in middle-class Japanese families.
In East Asia's highly competitive educational environment, the idea that "all other pursuits are inferior, only studying is superior" is deeply ingrained. But tonight at the dinner table, many parents, holding newspapers in their hands, looked at their children who were still struggling to prepare for the University of Tokyo entrance exam, and even their favorite lectures were stuck in their throats.
How to preach?
Saying, "Look how hard Kitahara Shin works"? He's a delinquent who didn't even finish high school properly, and he spends his days in the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry.
Saying "You need to study more to succeed"? This person didn't spend much time in school, yet still managed to crush the most difficult humanities exam in Japan, and casually wrote a phenomenal screenplay that won the Cannes Jury Prize.
Faced with this unreasonable and overwhelming challenge, parents completely lost the confidence to use him as a negative example. Many parents helplessly discovered that Kitahara Shin could no longer be described as "someone else's child," because the gap was so large that they couldn't even feel jealousy, only pure awe.
"From now on—if anyone says that actors are just uncultured pretty faces, I'll be the first to argue with them." A very old-fashioned professor from Dongda University, who usually looks down on the entertainment industry, took off his reading glasses after reading the newspaper and sighed deeply to his family.
For the vast majority of ordinary students and young fans, this overwhelming attack brought them an ultimate celebration.
In the corridors of high schools and the cafeterias of universities, almost everyone was discussing this chilling news.
"Hey, did you hear? Kitahara Shin got into the top ten nationwide!"
"I saw it! That report card is absolutely amazing! He's not human, he must be a god descended to earth!"
"Who would believe it? I was worried he'd fail the exam and be laughed at by those old fogies, but he just flipped the table!"
This is even more exaggerated than the male protagonist in a comic book!
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