Chapter 37
Turnabout Trial (2)
As the trial began, Rachel rose from her seat and began the introduction.
“Case overview: Appeal regarding the rejection of the community establishment screening. Is that correct?”
“Yeah, more or less.”
“If there’s anything incorrect during the briefing, feel free to point it out anytime.”
Sehyun nodded indifferently.
“The screening took place three days ago.”
Rachel explained that Sehyun had submitted the application, and the Foundation had reviewed his personal records in detail to determine eligibility, ultimately judging him unqualified.
“However, the plaintiff objected to the Foundation’s decision, which is why this trial is being held today.”
Swish—
Someone among the jurors raised a hand.
“What exactly was the reason?”
“If you don’t mind, may I reveal some of your personal information?”
“Go ahead.”
With Sehyun’s consent, Rachel turned on the projector.
The application form and Sehyun’s official record were displayed across the screen on the wall.
“What kind of record is that?”
“Did he really apply for a community? Not file a report against someone?”
“With a record like that, it’s no wonder he was rejected.”
The jurors began murmuring.
It was an extremely weak résumé for someone trying to found a community.
‘So the fact that you’ve been avoiding me ended up becoming a shackle, Nam Sehyun.’
His only official record was joining a rift raid as a porter under Sungcheol’s team.
That was nowhere near enough to meet the certification requirements.
“W-wait a second!”
At that moment, a juror who had noticed something odd shouted,
“The donation amount…!”
Unlike the other highlighted sections, the donation field had no special mark—but the juror had managed to notice the number written there.
The courtroom erupted in murmurs again.
A total of two million dollars.
In Korean currency, that was over twenty billion won—a massive sum.
Someone capable of donating that much money would automatically gain a certain level of credibility, even without an impressive player career.
After all, the main reason the establishment process was so strict was to prevent low-level riffraff from forming communities at will.
Yet, they had completely ignored that donation when making their judgment—clearly an unfair handling of the case.
The jurors began raising objections.
Apparently expecting this, Rachel responded calmly.
“Of course, the amount is important. But what’s even more important…”
She waited for the murmuring to die down before continuing.
“…is where that money came from.”
Then she pressed a button, switching to the next slide.
“This is the certificate for the account holding the two million dollars.”
The certificate itself was genuine.
And that, paradoxically, raised even more suspicion.
“However, there is no information about the source of the money. Do you know what that implies?”
At first glance, it might not seem like an issue.
But in reality, untraceable funds were always a red flag.
“He wasn’t wealthy before, so if he earned that much recently… how, exactly, did he do it?”
A strange tension filled the courtroom.
Even without saying it directly, everyone understood what Rachel was insinuating.
A huge amount of money with no known source—
She was essentially suggesting it was illegally obtained.
Moreover, Sehyun’s name didn’t appear in any official market transaction records.
That left only one conclusion: the money was illegally acquired.
“We judged that this money could not be used. Unless, of course…”
Rachel turned to Sehyun with a confident smile.
“…you can reveal the source of the funds here and now?”
“…No comment.”
Murmur murmur—
The courtroom stirred again.
“Don’t tell me… he traded on the Black Market?”
At that careless remark, the entire room fell silent.
The Black Market—a slang term for the underground marketplace where transactions banned by the Foundation were carried out.
It was a place where out-players could be hired, priceless antiques and weapons were sold, and most infamously—
—soulstones were traded.
“He’s saying that money came from selling soulstones?”
“Shh! Don’t say that out loud!”
Soulstones traded on the Black Market were at least satellite-grade or higher.
If he’d sold just a few of those, it wasn’t impossible to make that kind of money quickly.
Which implied—he had killed players to get it.
“Honorable Chair.”
Rachel smiled triumphantly.
“I believe the very existence of that untraceable money is sufficient reason to deny community establishment.”
Emboldened, Rachel pressed on.
“Yes, some procedural steps were skipped, but we deemed quick action necessary. Since the plaintiff has provided no proof that the source of the funds is legitimate, there’s no reason to call this unfair.”
“Hmm. Defendant, do you have anything to say?”
Even when the judge, Abe, asked, Sehyun gave the same reply.
“No comment.”
Rachel’s lips curved upward.
She’d been confident of victory from the start, but confirming it in person felt all the sweeter.
‘So he’s trying to play the “right to remain silent” card, huh? There’s a time and place for that kind of bluff.’
She could read his thoughts easily.
For someone clearly cornered, he looked far too calm—almost like he never planned to win in the first place.
‘Noise marketing, maybe?’
Regardless of the outcome, once this incident went public, it would be impossible to keep it quiet.
Those dissatisfied with the Foundation would undoubtedly make noise.
Maybe he was planning to use public opinion as leverage.
‘If he thinks we’ll back down just because things get noisy, he’s sorely mistaken.’
The Foundation wasn’t soft enough to change its stance for the sake of one individual.
A single person’s voice meant nothing compared to an entire community.
‘It’s over, Nam Sehyun.’
Having finished her argument, Rachel looked at him again.
“So, any objections?”
Instead of answering, Sehyun glanced at his watch and muttered,
“They should be arriving right about now.”
“What are you—”
Bang!!!
Suddenly, the courtroom doors burst open.
Step, step, step—
Footsteps echoed across the floor as a man wearing a fedora strode inside.
Rachel frowned.
“And who might you be? Do you realize how disrespectful this is in a formal courtroom?”
But unlike her, the rest of the room began murmuring again.
“He’s here?”
“No way… what’s he doing here?”
Even the presiding judge seemed unsettled.
Noticing this reaction, Rachel turned to Abe, confused.
“Who is that man?”
“…You must not know, since you came here from Korea.”
Jack Baker, a lawyer specializing in player defense.
He was infamous for showing up at Foundation trials just to pick fights.
“And he’s also the head of the Scottish Faction.”
“What?”
Rachel froze.
The Scottish Faction was a massive power bloc that rivaled the English Faction, to which the Adams family belonged.
Why would someone of his rank be here…?
Baker checked his watch and muttered,
“Good, right on time. Maybe too on time.”
“You came just as the boring parts ended,” Sehyun said casually.
Baker chuckled, as if everything was going according to plan, and turned toward the judge.
“Honorable Chair, I request a brief recess.”
“A recess?”
“Yes. I need time to review my client’s case and prepare a briefing. Surely that’s reasonable?”
“Hm…”
Abe cleared his throat.
He didn’t like it, but it was a valid request.
Even if the defense was late, a lawyer had the right to review the case before proceeding.
“…Recess granted.”
“Much obliged.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
As soon as permission was granted, Sehyun and Baker exited the courtroom.
Outside the Courtroom
“So, that’s how things went while I was gone?”
“Yeah. The shamelessness was unreal. I couldn’t believe my ears.”
“She deliberately steered the jury, using the donation as leverage… she’s clever, I’ll give her that. No wonder she’s a future head of her family.”
Baker rubbed his rough chin.
In a short time, a heavy frame had been built around Sehyun—painting him as a shady figure involved in illegal funds.
And Rachel’s words, though pointed, contained no direct violation.
She had skillfully tied together bits of truth to push public opinion her way.
It was a cunning move.
“Well, she only got away with it because I kept my mouth shut.”
And indeed, that was the truth.
Had Sehyun simply spoken up to clarify, the suspicion would’ve evaporated.
But he stayed silent.
And so the accusation quietly hardened into accepted “fact.”
The broken windows effect.
Mob psychology.
Once someone is seen as flawed, people can’t resist throwing more stones.
But—
“…The fact that you’re using that makes you scarier than she is.”
“Well, I couldn’t just sit there and take it.”
Even this reaction from the jury had been part of Sehyun’s plan.
The only surprise was how aggressively Rachel had resorted to black propaganda.
And… that the jury wasn’t entirely on the Foundation’s side.
Sure, they were mostly chosen for their loyalty—but not all of them were blindly obedient.
‘Otherwise, they would’ve ignored the donation completely.’
That meant Rachel couldn’t end the trial purely through rhetoric; she’d have to persuade them logically.
Which, conversely, meant—
If Sehyun presented solid logic and evidence, he could overturn the situation.
“Looks like this might go better than expected.”
“You’re one scary kid…”
Sehyun smirked, and the two continued finalizing their strategy.
Back in the Courtroom
“I’ve been briefed on the situation,” Baker began once the trial resumed.
“So, to summarize—the claim is that my client’s donation came from an unknown source, and therefore the application cannot be approved. Correct?”
“…”
“Seems like I’ve arrived just in time to rain on your parade, huh?”
The clarity of his summary left everyone silent.
“But there’s one point we need to address.”
Baker began flipping through slides, each directly refuting Rachel’s earlier evidence.
Rachel frowned.
These were the arguments that should’ve come up before the recess.
‘So why wait until now?’
Sure, having a professional lawyer speak might sound more convincing, but among players, that didn’t make much difference.
All that mattered was persuading the jury.
Which meant Baker must’ve had a reason to speak personally.
As Rachel pondered, Baker suddenly shifted tone.
“Well, I could keep poking holes in this forever—but let’s get to the real issue.”
His voice grew firmer.
“Where exactly does your reasoning come from? What objective basis do you have for any of this?”
“…!!”
“Show slide number two, please.”
Murmur murmur—
The screen displayed a list of recently approved communities that had passed the screening thanks to donations.
“Oh, sorry—that’s just my personal file. I meant slide number three!”
“Uh, but you said number two…”
“Tsk! Three!”
The clerk hurriedly switched the slide.
But the previous image was already burned into everyone’s mind.
Of course, the “mistake” had been deliberate.
As expected, the jurors and audience began murmuring again.
It was public knowledge that donations could help with approval, but few knew just how much money was involved—until now.
The amounts were shockingly high.
While the evidence couldn’t be formally accepted, it was enough to shift the courtroom’s mood.
“From the start, your evidence lacks any objective foundation. All of it stems from suspicion toward my client. Therefore, none of it has real validity—”
“Honorable Chair,” Rachel suddenly interjected, raising her hand.
“I invoke my right of speaking priority.”
“Huh?”
Baker looked puzzled, and Rachel smirked.
“Don’t tell me a lawyer like you doesn’t know that?”
Just as a late-arriving attorney is granted time to prepare, the opposing party can invoke this rule to balance any disadvantage.
Normally, interruptions during another’s argument are forbidden—but this speaking priority rule is a special feature of player trials, allowing someone to cut in mid-testimony.
“Granted,” said Abe.
“Thank you. Clerk, display file number seven.”
The previous slide faded out, replaced by Rachel’s new one.
At the top of the screen was a seemingly unrelated phrase:
“Out-Player No. 151.”
“…Out-Player No. 151?”
“You said my client had no ill intent, didn’t you?”
As Baker frowned in confusion, Rachel gave a triumphant smile.
“Let me show you just how malicious this man truly is.”
