After 17 years at Daejung, one of the top three law firms in the country, Eun-kyung is a fixture on television, taking on the “divorce case of the century” or appearing on talk shows to dole out advice about infidelity. She is the crown jewel of the 15th floor at Daejung, the firm’s divorce department.
Nam plays rookie lawyer Han Yu-ri, who has just graduated with top honours from university. Yu-ri is well aware of Eun-kyung, but when she is assigned to the 15th floor after aceing her confident Daejung interview, delight is the furthest emotion from her mind.
She was hoping for the 13th floor – corporate litigation. In fact, anything would be better than divorce law, which she considers to be little more than glorified counselling for complaining housewives.
Fully aware of how dim a view Yu-ri takes of her profession, Eun-kyung hand-picks her for the divorce division and throws her straight onto the front lines.
No sooner is Yu-ri assigned a desk than she must prepare for her first client conference, unassisted. She is dumbfounded to learn that she will be representing the client in court the next day. Once again, without a helping hand.
This trial-by-fire for Yu-ri concerns a client whose wife claims that he is cheating on her. He is adamant that nothing has happened and he has his teenage son to back him up.
The moment the man steps onto the other side of the long office floor, Eun-kyung sizes him up as a cheat and suggests to Yu-ri that she push him to settle the divorce out of court. Aghast, Yu-ri brushes off Eun-kyung’s intuition and broaches the case her own way.
She sees no evidence of the man’s supposed cheating and naively takes him at his word. The next day she is blindsided when incriminating texts appear in court. Her client continues to maintain his innocence, spinning a ludicrous tale that no one in their right mind would believe.
But this is how Yu-ri needs to learn what it means to be a lawyer. The man is her client and as long as there is even a chance that her client could be telling the truth, no matter how remote, it is her job to represent him.
Eun-kyung watches all of this from the spectators’ seats in court, both revelling in her new employee’s embarrassment and marvelling at her shrewd ability to pivot her way to victory nonetheless.
Yu-ri’s new work challenges are not limited to the courtroom. One evening she returns to the empty office and happens to see Eun-kyung’s husband Kim Ji-sang (Ji Seung-hyun), a doctor who works as a medical consultant at the firm, engaging in a tryst with another employee at Daejung.
She is placed in a quandary – should she inform her new superior of the deception or not?
Good Partner begins with a standard set-up, mixing the sensitive dynamics of workplace relationships and the moral grey areas of the law. Central to this is the ideological divide between Eun-kyung and Yu-ri.
One gets the sense early on that the thoroughly competent Yu-ri is surely destined to become just like her formidable new boss, but the divergence in their characters at the respective stages of their careers is well defined.
Neither is entirely right or wrong, whether from a standpoint of morality or efficiency; as the show demonstrates, there is seldom only one way to get over an obstacle – and morality and the law can make for the most awkward of bedfellows, irrespective of anyone’s intentions.
Similarly, Nam does not stretch into new territory here, but if nothing else, her role as Yu-ri should give her a few chances to shine in court.
The jury’s still out on just how good Good Partner will be, but proceedings are off to a good start.
Good Partner is streaming on Viu.