Chapter 50: The Arsonist’s Mask

I fell into profoundly deep contemplation.

It was because the status of the man named Bassett was utterly abnormal.

I’d come with a mind to go easy on him, but my head had become endlessly complicated.

Unable to resist hunger, so he had no choice but to steal? What nonsense.

If that were true, the words “deep malicious intent” wouldn’t be there.

At first, I was flustered, but as time passed, anger rose.

It was true that Bassett was a homeless vagrant.

But does being poor automatically make someone virtuous?

Absolutely not.

In any class, good and evil people coexist.

Moreover, human good and evil are influenced by circumstances and environment.

For now, let’s not judge hastily.

Everyone harbors a small devil in their heart.

Irresistible force might have played a role.

Like stealing flour under threat, for example.

I glanced briefly at the prosecutor continuing the examination.

He wasn’t someone who’d shown remarkable growth like Cobin Sears.

Still, a veteran who’d toughened up in this field.

At least he wouldn’t have slacked on the investigation…

“That’s all.”

Huh? Already over?

It felt like he’d barely said a few words, and the questioning ended.

Too bewildered, I just blinked.

Even if I planned to be lenient, this is a bit much.

He should at least give the impression of doing it properly.

I immediately summoned the prosecutor’s info window.

<Person Info>

Name: Johnny Duckworth

Status: Viscount

Position: General Prosecutor

Relation: Indifferent

Condition: Boredom from long public service, lost interest in an unremarkable trial. Sharply erect… run-something.

Overall Ability: C

Look at this guy? Run-something?

I thought he was a veteran, but he was a burnout salary thief.

Approaching the trial with thoughts of quitting anytime—how could proper results come?

Just going through formal questions and wrapping up.

Sighing inwardly, I looked back at the defendant.

Face smeared with tears, gazing up pitifully.

Wow! Look at that realism. Oscar-worthy.

With the skill blatantly listed as Acting, his performance was on an incredible level.

Impressive enough to evoke sympathy even from the cold-hearted.

No wonder people sent petitions.

He was even getting pro bono defense.

In a world without public defenders.

“The defendant’s two children had already gone three days without food at the time. As a father, he had no choice but to act.”

As the lawyer finished, sighs erupted here and there.

Clearly intending to maximize sympathy.

Actually, a very fitting strategy.

I was known as a judge friendly to commoners, even called a saint.

But what to do. I have the interest method.

Of course, it couldn’t perfectly pierce a person’s heart.

But reading thoughts fragmentarily was a tremendous weapon.

Wasn’t it the case right now?

From just a few words, I’d inferred the defendant’s motives.

I waited for the murmurs to die down before slowly opening my mouth.

“Defendant.”

“Hic! Yes, Chief Justice.”

“Seeing your children starve must have torn your heart as a father.”

“I’m sorry. Even in such circumstances, I shouldn’t have stolen…”

“Of course. But there’s extenuating circumstances.”

“Please make a wise judgment.”

“I certainly will. How are the children now?”

Worried gazes turned to the defendant.

It must be quite burdensome, yet his answer flowed smoothly.

As if prepared in advance.

“They’re fine. Thanks to everyone’s help, they’re doing well.”

“You seem homeless—where are you staying?”

“The city outskirts’ public lodging.”

Vagrants staying in makeshift shelters was commonplace.

But with two children, it was rare.

Sighs erupted again at this point.

Even to those living in poverty, it looked pitiful.

Ignoring the gallery’s reaction, I continued questions.

“Harsh environment. How old are the children again?”

“Seven and six.”

“How did you end up on the streets?”

“A fire in the house killed my wife. Couldn’t work properly, so got chased from the tenant land.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A little over a year.”

“Where was the burned house?”

“Uh… Lelbrant barony.”

“More precisely.”

“A small village on the northern hill of the territory. Called Picant.”

After brief hesitation, the defendant named a place.

At that moment, I smiled meaningfully.

It happened to be a very familiar area.

He’d deliberately chosen a faraway place, thinking it couldn’t be verified?

“Convenient. Court knight.”

“Yes, Chief Justice.”

“Quickly fetch the corrections headquarters director. We’ll have him as a witness.”

“Yes, sir!”

No need to send a prosecutor like when requesting church cooperation.

Baron Lelbrant would respond immediately to my call.

Sure enough, the witness arrived soon.

“Was there a fire in Picant village about a year ago?”

“Yes, twenty households burned completely. It was such a big incident—I remember vividly.”

That was before Baron Lelbrant fell victim to the doppelganger.

His answer was crisp.

I nodded and continued.

“Were there survivors? A man and two children.”

“No. No one escaped then. It started suddenly at dawn.”

A remote territory wouldn’t have precise census.

But if survivors existed, they’d remain in Baron Lelbrant’s memory.

It was that shocking an event.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the defendant.

“That’s what he says? You survived that inferno—why didn’t you seek help?”

A deadly silence fell over the courtroom.

Defendant Bassett couldn’t say a word.

Even his outstanding acting skill was useless now.

Because I’d struck the core precisely.

I intended to drive the wedge here.

“You said the children are in public lodging? Court knight, bring the children immediately.”

“Yes!”

The court knight’s voice boomed.

Unlike when fetching Lelbrant, his eyes were murderous.

As if ready to behead Bassett.

After quite some time, the court knight returned.

With a shabby brother and sister in tow.

I smiled gently at the frightened children.

“Kids. No need to be nervous. We’re here to clear your father’s injustice.”

“Yes.”

“Now, answer. Where did you live about a year ago?”

“A village very far away.”

The boy’s answer.

A seven-year-old, so no exact name was understandable.

I smiled softly and continued.

“Good. Well done. I heard there was a flood there—do you remember?”

“Uh… I think so.”

“The house floated away in the flood, so you came here. Right?”

“Yes!”

The child, glancing around, smiled brightly.

Since I’d kept a kind smile, he gained confidence in answering.

But I immediately shot a sharp glare at defendant Bassett.

“The children’s memory differs from yours.”

“Th-that’s…!”

“Of course, you coached them beforehand. Couldn’t match fire or water exactly.”

The hall was enveloped in shock.

Completely different from the testimony.

“Everything he’s said so far is a lie?”

“Wait, then… those kids might not even be his real children?”

The gallery filled with murmurs.

The shock was that great.

Everyone had understood and pitied defendant Bassett’s circumstances.

Thus, the theft case concluded lightly.

Legally, it was simple anyway.

Only judgment on leniency remained.

But I had no intention of ending here.

It still stinks.

Even with his lies exposed, Bassett’s expression remained relatively calm.

Face pale white, but gradually regaining composure.

Honestly, no heavy sentence for stealing a few sacks of flour.

He probably thought a few years inside, then out.

But I felt that wouldn’t do.

I tossed out the lingering suspicious question.

“One more thing. That fire—did you start it?”

“Huh?”

Bassett’s eyes, regaining calm, shook greatly.

He hadn’t expected such a question out of nowhere.

This was a flour theft trial.

What did Picant village’s fire have to do with it?

But I had full right and reason to ask.

The suspicion budding in my chest had already borne fruit.

“Why so flustered? Like someone who really started a fire.”

“N-No, th-that’s impossible. I-I know nothing… I’m just a victim.”

Answering with voice only adds suspicion. Explain properly why you fled there.

“To stop shaking. Right now.”

I looked down at Bassett with a stern face.

In Korea, even confession wouldn’t matter.

Constitution and criminal procedure law stated it.

No punishment if confession is sole evidence.

But here, no such thing.

To live, he had to give reasonable explanation somehow.

Of course, no high expectations.

Him starting the fire was mere suspicion—no evidence.

Just poked because it stank.

But right then.

The girl, silent until now, slyly raised her hand.

I waved to quiet the hall, then asked directly.

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“Helen.”

“If you have something to say, go ahead. But be honest.”

“Yes, I don’t lie.”

“Good. Speak freely.”

Soon, Helen pointed at Bassett.

With a cold expression unimaginable for a six-year-old.

“That man started the fire. And before that, he stabbed our mom with a knife.”

“You saw it?”

“Yes, on my way to the outhouse. That’s why I got dragged here.”

The full story was revealed by a six-year-old.

Adults tend to dismiss children.

They wouldn’t understand at that age.

What would a kid know even if they saw?

Like that.

But children are human too, and at five or six, have sufficient cognition.

Enough to know the meaning of death.

I raised the gavel with a deeply twisted expression.

“For murder, arson, and theft—causing great harm to the community—defendant Bassett is sentenced to sixty years imprisonment.”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Death was too merciful for such a bastard.

He should rot in hell, dying in agony.