Tokyo: Are you even a proper lawyer?

Masahiro Mizutani fell silent. His gaze began to wander, and his fingers unconsciously caressed the fabric of his trousers.

"Witness Mizutani, please answer," the presiding judge prompted.

"I...I've seen it," Masahiro Mizutani's voice trailed off, "but the surveillance footage might have been tampered with..."

"Possibly?" Masashi Akiyama interrupted him, his voice suddenly sharp. "So when you saw this evidence that contradicted your 'intuition,' you chose to ignore it and instead focused on using 'interrogation techniques' to get the suspect to confess—is that right?"

"No! I..." Masahiro Mizutani tried to explain, but Masashi Akiyama didn't give him the chance.

"You have worked as a criminal investigator for 35 years, solved countless cases, and are known as the 'Metropolitan Police Department's hound'."

Masashi Akiyama's voice suddenly softened. "But three years ago, because you relied too heavily on 'intuitive interrogation,' a wrongful conviction was committed, leading to your transfer from frontline work to a secondary role in preliminary hearings. Is that right?"

Masahiro Mizutani's face turned completely pale. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out; only his heavy breathing was particularly clear in the silent courtroom.

"You're not reconciled," Masashi Akiyama continued, each word like a small hammer striking the hearts of everyone present.

"You wanted to prove you were still as sharp as ever, to solve another major case, to return to the front lines. So when the convenience store manager was murdered, you scrambled to it like it was a lifeline—even when the evidence was contradictory, even when there were obvious alibi clues, you chose to ignore them. Because in your view…"

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:

"As long as the suspect confesses, the case is solved. Whether he's the real killer or not—that doesn't matter. Right?"

"You're talking nonsense!"

Masahiro Mizutani suddenly stood up, his hands gripping the railing of the witness stand, his eyes bloodshot.

"That kind of scum! That kind of useless piece of trash who can't even do a decent job at a convenience store! His existence is a waste of social resources! I'm cleaning up the garbage for society!"

After he finished speaking, the courtroom fell into dead silence.

Everyone was stunned.

Even the presiding judge forgot to strike the gavel, staring blankly at the out-of-control Masahiro Mizutani.

Masahiro Mizutani himself realized that he had said the wrong thing.

He hurriedly sat down, trying to salvage the situation: "What I mean is..."

"You mean," Masashi Akiyama continued, "that in your eyes, some people don't deserve to be treated as human beings. So, torturing, threatening, and extracting confessions from them is all justified. Is that right?"

"No, I..."

"Just like Masaji Fukuyama, on the day of the incident, after being verbally abused and fired by the store manager, he muttered to himself outside the store, 'I want to kill him.'"

Masashi Akiyama turned to face the jury. "In our lives, haven't we all been so angry that we blurted out 'Go to hell' or 'I'll kill you'?"

He scanned the entire room, his gaze slowly sweeping over each face.

"When we are unreasonably berated by our boss, when we are betrayed by our loved ones, when we are driven to the brink of despair by fate... who dares to say that they have never cursed someone in their heart? But does saying such things mean that we would actually kill someone?"

The courtroom was completely silent.

Masashi Akiyama walked back to the defense table and took the last document from Rio Arimura.

Then, he turned and looked at the presiding judge:

"Your Honor, we request that a new witness be called—Kenichi Sato, the owner of the Higashiyama Park teahouse."

Kenichi Sato walked stiffly to the witness stand.

He was wearing his best suit, his hair was neatly combed, and his hands were clasped tightly in front of him, as if trying to suppress his trembling.

But when his gaze swept over a certain spot in the audience where a middle-aged woman was sitting, quietly watching him, his back suddenly straightened.

"Witness Sato, please tell the court where you were and what you were doing between 3 PM and 5 PM on the day of the incident?"

"I run a teahouse in Higashiyama Park." Kenichi Sato's voice trembled slightly at first, but became steady as he spoke. "That afternoon, around three o'clock, this young man in the photo—"

He pointed to Masaji Fukuyama in the dock:

"He bought a hot Americano from my tea shop. He sat on the third bench in the park from 3:10 to almost 5:00. Around 4:20, he came in for a refill."

"Are you sure?" Prosecutor Fujita Yuichi stood up. "More than a month has passed. What makes you so certain?"

"I'm sure. Because there were very few customers that afternoon, only three. And this young man..."

Takeru Satoh paused for a moment, then said, "When he asked for a refill, his eyes were red, like he had just been crying. So I looked at him a few more times and remembered it very clearly."

He turned back to look at the presiding judge, his voice loud and clear:

"I guarantee with my integrity and the reputation of the teahouse that at 4 p.m. on the day of the incident, when the convenience store manager was murdered in the warehouse, this young man was sitting on a bench in Dongshan Park drinking coffee. It was impossible for him to be at the convenience store three kilometers away, let alone commit murder."

After he finished speaking, the courtroom fell into a long silence.

Then, from somewhere in the audience, a soft, suppressed sob could be heard.

Kenichi Sato did not turn around.

But his hands, which were placed at his sides, quietly clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The court adjourned for thirty minutes.

The presiding judge struck the gavel again, the sound echoing in the solemn courtroom.

"This court hereby declares: Defendant Masaji Fukuyama is not guilty of murder and is hereby released."

The gavel fell.

Court adjourned!

Masaji Fukuyama stood blankly in the dock, as if he hadn't understood what was being said.

It wasn't until the bailiffs came forward and unlocked his handcuffs, feeling the cold metal slip from his wrists, that he jolted, his eyes instantly reddening.

He turned around and looked at the defense table.

Masashi Akiyama was organizing documents when Rio Arimura ran over crying, hugged him tightly, and stammered things like "That's great" and "Finally, I'm innocent."

Masaji Fukuyama let her hug him, but his gaze went past her shoulder and landed on the lawyer who was calmly putting the documents into his briefcase.

He pushed aside Rio Arimura, walked up to Masashi Akiyama, and bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees:

"Th-thank you... Attorney Akiyama... thank you..."

His voice choked, and he couldn't speak a complete sentence.

Masashi Akiyama helped him up and patted him on the shoulder.

Go back. Live a good life.

Masaji Fukuyama nodded vigorously, and tears finally fell, leaving two clear streaks on his cheeks.

Rio Arimura wiped away her tears and said with a smile that she would treat him to a meal to celebrate.

The three walked side by side toward the courthouse exit.

Sunlight streamed in through the tall glass windows, casting long shadows on them.

Just as he was about to walk out of the courthouse, Masaji Fukuyama suddenly paused.

He turned his head.

In a corner of the gallery, Masahiro Mizutani stood there, his face ashen, staring at him with a sinister gaze.

The old detective who had once kicked and punched him, threatened him, and pinned him to the ground saying, "Social scum like you doesn't deserve to live," was now looking at him with that familiar, trash-like gaze.

Masaji Fukuyama's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he tugged at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were fixed on Masahiro Mizutani, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpoints in the sunlight.

Her lips moved slightly.

No sound.

But across the entire courtroom, Masahiro Mizutani clearly "heard" those words—

"Damn scumbag."

"Kill him..."

"We absolutely must kill him..."