Chapter 63
“The servant sneaked in while everyone else was looking the other way.”
“Sneaked in?”
“Yes.”
“So, you came alone?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
I nodded.
Suddenly, the itch completely disappeared.
It felt as refreshing and tangy as having drunk a hundred glasses of lemonade.
“That makes sense. Good job. If it weren’t for the High Priest, I would have snuck in too.”
Very, very well done.
I giggled as I showered her with praise, when something touched my toes.
Looking down, it was Arden’s shoe tip.
My shoe was pressed tightly against Arden’s.
‘Since when was I standing this close to Arden?’
Arden hadn’t moved a single step, so it must have been me who stepped closer.
Why am I standing so close to Arden? Someone might think I’m trying to grab his collar.
Seriously.
Why would I grab Arden’s collar?
I felt so refreshed.
Naturally, I stepped back and, on a whim, patted Cassian’s tofu.
“I see. You came alone. Ha ha ha.”
Humming happily, I continued.
This time, Cassian didn’t seem pleased.
He looked between Arden and me, lifting only one corner of his mouth, and spoke to Arden:
“Arden.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you in such an unexpected place, and I’d like to invite you to watch the trial with me. But, unfortunately, that gentleman over there has been staring at you since earlier.”
“Where?”
“I can’t see him…”
“Lord Arden! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”
…That shout came from Cassian.
In the not-so-large salon, the call of “Lord Arden!” immediately drew everyone’s attention to us.
“Ugh!”
Arden let out a pained sound, like he had been stabbed, and vanished before he could glare at Cassian.
“Why are you chasing him away…?”
I turned to look at Cassian in disbelief.
He smiled faintly, having caught my gaze.
“I have something to discuss with him alone.”
“What is it?”
“The person hosting today’s mock trial is Count Cameron. A member of the <Men of the Center>.”
“Oh, one of those openly active members?”
“Exactly. That’s why I invited you to attend today.”
“Oh.”
I nodded in understanding.
At that moment, a servant standing near the inner entrance rang a bell.
“His Excellency Count Cameron, presiding over the trial, has arrived. Please rise to show respect to the court.”
A middle-aged man appeared, wearing a judge’s robe over a white wig that reached his shoulders.
It was the same man who had shouted in the square earlier that day.
“…So that’s Count Cameron?”
“Yes,” Cassian confirmed.
“One of the few noble families whose title has remained since the founding of the kingdom. Count Cameron is also an actual judge in the central court of Ruard.”
“Oh. I don’t like judges.”
My apologies to all judges.
But you all know, right? They’re kind of unpleasant.
“Clears throat.”
Count Cameron, now seated in the judge’s chair, glanced around the mock courtroom with a satisfied expression, noting that only relatively well-dressed people had entered, probably because of an initial screening.
“Thank you for attending this mock trial of the Magic Saint Sena, hosted by today’s presiding judge. I trust that those present here are not supporters of the Magic Saint, but if anyone is, observe carefully and reconsider your stance.”
He gave off a very clear impression that the verdict was already decided.
“I have a question.”
I whispered to Cassian.
“How can someone so stubborn and narrow-minded be a judge? Can he even make a fair ruling based on evidence?”
“Let’s see,” Cassian shrugged.
“Then, I shall begin the mock trial concerning the Magic Saint Sena, a disruptor of this nation’s social order.”
Bang! Count Cameron struck the gavel.
The trial began.
“She is a very rude woman! She shows no proper respect to the social elite!”
“While I acknowledge that the nobles at that ball were somewhat reckless, engraving her name in the royal palace is excessive! Is it really necessary to insult them so much?”
“Exactly! She made us, the nobles, look ridiculous.”
“Disrespecting the upper class is akin to children not honoring their parents. It’s an act that seriously disrupts social order.”
“……”
After about ten minutes of watching the mock trial, my impression: what is even the point of this?
Snoring.
I envied the tofu snoring in front of me. I honestly just wanted to go home.
Suppressing a yawn, I glanced at the defendant’s seat—which, unsurprisingly, was empty.
‘Because I’m here.’
The problem was that not even a defense attorney was present to represent the Magic Saint.
Even the most severe criminals have the right to defend themselves.
But here? None of that.
The prosecution and even the supposedly neutral judge were all ganging up to beat the Magic Saint unilaterally.
‘Is this even a trial?’
It was just a gathering of nobles, holding a grudge against the Magic Saint, trying to feel superior.
‘I knew the nobles were angry because of the Tramm Mansion incident, the plank street fire, and the Everland park incident. They probably think she’s provoking the commoners against them.’
‘The Magic Saint probably restrains herself, thinking they are nobles at least.’
Still, this is ridiculous.
Even the journalists in the corner didn’t look pleased.
One brave person raised a hand and shouted:
“I object!”
The prosecutor and judge, who were busy criticizing the Magic Saint, immediately fell silent.
They tried to clear their throat, but that didn’t intimidate the journalist.
The journalist continued, undeterred:
“I believe the Magic Saint earned the support of the citizens because she openly called out the wrongdoing of the noble class.”
Even under hostile stares, they continued.
“She didn’t ignore the incident where the poor suffered a fire while the nobles were partying. Then at Everland Park, built for all children, didn’t she prevent noble children from using the park as a prop?”
“Exactly! If it weren’t for the Magic Saint, we’d just complain among ourselves and never realize it was a problem!”
“She voiced what we wanted to say!”
The courtroom quickly became noisy.
The young prosecutor tried to speak to restore order.
“The issue is that she stirred up trouble unnecessarily, causing disrespect toward the social elite…”
“So it’s a problem that she exposed your own wrongdoing!”
Useless.
“Quiet! Quiet!”
Bang bang bang! Count Cameron slammed the gavel down.
“How dare you interrupt the presiding judge!”
“But…”
“Quiet! Don’t you even know the basics of a trial?!”
A trial without a defendant or defense, and yet he lectures about trial basics…
Everyone, remember this: always request a lawyer if you’re ever caught somewhere.
The right to a defense is guaranteed by law.
“You! Which organization are you from?”
The furious Count Cameron pointed at the journalist who first spoke.
“No need to answer! Surely from some dying third-rate newspaper!”
“……”
“Did you even graduate from the academy? Do you even understand the law?!”
“I may know less about the law than you, Count Cameron, but I understand justice…”
“That’s nonsense!”
Cameron spat.
“The law doesn’t automatically side with citizens! Why is the Magic Saint acting up? If someone suffers injustice, they must report it through the proper legal channels and await judgment! Why is she punishing nobles on her own?!”
Of course, everyone knows private retribution is wrong.
Citizens aren’t stupid. They restrain themselves.
Otherwise, dozens would already have been shot.
‘Yet, despite all this,’ citizens support the Magic Saint.
Why? Everyone except the judge probably understands.
Shouldn’t you reflect before you yell?
I wish I lived in a society where I wasn’t needed!
“Count, then do you think victims who receive no legal protection…”
The journalist persisted, but the Count was adamant.
Once again, he interrupted and shouted, wielding the gavel.
“Victims who aren’t protected by law aren’t really victims!”
“……”
“If you listen to every crying victim, half the country would be criminals! Is that what you want?!”
If half the population committed crimes, then half would be criminals, right?
“If the sentence is light, the crime must have been light. You can’t accommodate every whiner!”
“……”
“The smartest elites of this nation review the evidence from every angle and deliver the most rational and logical judgment! Every verdict has its reason!”
“…….”
“But you cry injustice? That’s just whining!”
“……”
Seraphina’s Most Unpleasant Job Award, Rank 1!
Judge!
