Chapter 61: The True Craftsman

“Evidence collected without following due legal process cannot be admitted as evidence.”

I read the new provision aloud in a clear, resonant voice.

It wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking.

Just the product of wringing out my memories.

No matter how good I was at memorizing things, I wasn’t at the level of devouring the entire Korean criminal code.

So the order was a complete mess.

The exclusion of illegally obtained evidence was originally Article 308-2 of the Criminal Procedure Act back home, but here it was simply Article 14.

What’s the big deal? As long as it works properly wherever it is.

Scratch! Scratch!

Every time I opened my mouth, the sound of quills dancing across paper rang out like an orchestra.

It was because nearly fifty newly appointed administrators were frantically transcribing everything.

Heh! Auto-farming really is the best.

If I had tried to revise the entire code myself, it would have taken an enormous amount of time.

My arms would have been worked to death, too.

And then the administrators would have had to copy it all separately.

There weren’t even basic printing presses here.

Should I make metal movable type?

Vargas, the Sorcerer of Nermeia, could mass-produce extremely precise engravings.

He could probably handle tiny typefaces without issue.

At this rate, I wondered if typewriters might appear before metal type.

Of course, that would require mechanical engineering first…

“Damn, there’s a filthy amount of work to do.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, sorry. That was just me talking to myself. Where were we?”

“Ex officio investigation.”

“I’ll continue. The court may, when it deems necessary, conduct evidence investigation on its own authority…”

After running this auto-farming session for about two weeks, the end was finally in sight.

The first code to separate criminal procedure from substantive criminal law had been completed.

On top of that, sentencing guidelines had now been established.

It placed some restrictions on judicial discretion.

But it wasn’t unreasonable.

It simply prevented excessively lenient sentences for serious crimes or overly harsh ones for minor offenses.

This should be enough.

In the past, such things had been commonplace.

Those with connections to the court or noble status always received light punishments.

Pay a few coins in fines, and you could get away with anything.

But commoners were different.

If the victim was a noble, even trivial matters could lead to execution or imprisonment.

Sometimes fines and victim compensation were piled on top of that.

Of course I wouldn’t hand down judgments like that.

But what about the other judges?

To resist external pressure, they needed at least a minimal excuse.

The sentencing guidelines say there’s nothing I can do.

I’ve already been as lenient as possible.

They could say that while imposing a heavy sentence.

Then even judges without strong backing could deliver proper rulings.

It would certainly have a positive effect.

“Good. We’ll promulgate it immediately and apply it… No, we can’t.”

Why not?

Because there were no judges to handle trials.

In Delriat, I was practically the only one.

There had been predecessors, but most of them weren’t exactly human.

This is driving me insane. How can a territory have nothing functioning properly?

I’d have to pull some from the newly recruited administrators.

I’d carefully observe and pluck out anyone with a strong sense of justice.

Of course, until then, I’d have to handle every trial myself.

Fortunately, there hadn’t been many lawsuits lately.

Times were too turbulent; everyone was lying low.

But I couldn’t stop holding trials altogether.

People live their lives, and disputes inevitably arise.

“We will now begin the trial for the inheritance and property division dispute regarding the Kuroso Brick Factory.”

This time, it wasn’t a criminal case but a civil one.

The owner of the brick factory had died, and his two sons were fighting over who should get more.

In fact, inheritance trials were quite rare in both the Empire and Delriat.

Because once the court got involved, things ended quickly.

The reason for this phenomenon was simple.

The side that bribed more would get a favorable mediation.

What a world, where bribery was considered natural!

Naturally, the new code explicitly laid out terrifying punishments for bribery.

Departments for internal court oversight and external agencies were planned for the future.

Of course, since that future hadn’t arrived yet, I was bombarded with all sorts of gifts.

How did I know what the case was about before entering the courtroom?

The stuffy old imperial procedures don’t apply here.

Delriat operated solely under the code I’d created.

I’d built in grounds to examine every detail of a case.

Because of that, the gift offensive was even more intense.

Everyone knew I would be the one presiding.

Naturally, I returned or confiscated every single one for the treasury.

After I rejected them all, they eventually started sending valuable items anonymously.

Why send bribes when even the sender was unknown?

Probably something like: Take a look at the item first, and if you want it, get in touch.

The plaintiff and defendant sat side by side at a distance.

I glared sharply at them.

The atmosphere instantly turned ice-cold.

Who wouldn’t shrink under the glare of Delriat’s highest authority?

“Before we begin the trial, I have something to say. Plaintiff, defendant.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Caught off guard by being addressed directly, the two men answered in startled voices.

I maintained a solemn expression and continued without pause.

“How much lobbying do you plan to do? It won’t change the outcome of the trial.”

“This is separate from the current lawsuit, but bribery will be punished separately. So stop delivering valuables to the court. For people who claim to be morally superior, isn’t this rather petty?”

Nobles claimed they were fundamentally different from commoners.

Mentally and morally superior beings.

That was the definition of nobility in this world.

I had just poked right at that claim.

The nobles seated in the gallery flushed red in unison.

Some turned their heads away, while others simply left the courtroom.

Embarrassment, shame, and likely resentment toward me.

So what? It’s all true.

People who claim to be better than everyone else, scattering bribes just to get a bigger inheritance?

Pathetic beyond words.

I quickly flipped through the documents.

I’d already reviewed most of them yesterday, so I was familiar with the contents.

But a few new details had been added since early morning.

The defendant allegedly committed theft to reduce the inheritance share?

It was an accusation that the second son had stolen from his father’s estate.

Of course, there was no evidence yet—just a claim raised by the eldest son.

It would be nice if responsibility were clearly established.

That would make judgment easy.

Of all things, inheritance. I’m weak on civil law.

Civil cases resolve disputes between individuals according to the law.

No matter the outcome, someone would always be dissatisfied.

In this case, the side receiving less would resent me.

Unless I delivered a verdict that both sides—and everyone else—could accept.

But that’s not up to me.

I would simply judge based on evidence and facts alone.

I looked to the right and proceeded with the trial.

“Plaintiff’s side, present your argument.”

“Yes! The late Ryuker Bandro, former owner of the brick factory, intended to leave the factory to his eldest son, Jansen Bandro.”

But as soon as they began, the defendant’s lawyer shot up from his seat.

“Objection!”

I never thought I’d hear that line in real life, not just in movies or dramas.

I was momentarily stunned, but I nodded anyway.

“State your objection.”

“Ryuker Bandro intended to leave the factory to his second son, Asen Bandro. The plaintiff has never worked a single day at the brick factory!”

“What nonsense is this? Jansen Bandro was a devoted son. In Delriat, where primogeniture is common, that’s unthinkable.”

The plaintiff’s lawyer countered with a smug smile.

You’re not supposed to get emotional in reasoning or trials.

It’s like how you crash and burn in Mafia games if you do.

Still, the man’s attitude rubbed me the wrong way.

He acted as if he’d already claimed victory.

Of course, he was perfectly polite when speaking to me.

That’s what makes him even more unlikeable. Calm down. Personal feelings have no place in a trial.

I steadied myself with superhuman self-control.

Meanwhile, the verbal sparring between the lawyers continued.

There was nothing more to hear anyway.

They were just busy slandering and undermining each other.

Bang! Bang!

“Order.”

I struck the gavel, and the bickering finally stopped.

I turned immediately to the defendant’s lawyer.

“I will not sustain the objection. We haven’t even reached the evidence admission stage; this is merely opening argument. Plaintiff’s lawyer.”

“Yes!”

“Continue your argument.”

“Understood.”

The unlikeable lawyer droned on with his claims.

Naturally, the defendant’s side was given their turn as well.

The content wasn’t anything special.

The eldest and second son argued over who had worked harder.

Since the owner died suddenly without a will, this mess had arisen.

Then the only option was to find something in the testimony.

Soon, employees from the brick factory appeared as witnesses.

But contradictory stories poured out at the same time.

“Jansen practically lived at the factory.”

“What are you talking about? Asen is the true successor. He was always by the owner’s side.”

My head started throbbing.

Even the system showed nothing unusual.

If this were a criminal trial, half of them would be lying.

But these people aren’t villains. They’re just making opposing claims because their positions differ.

If good and evil were clearly divided, I could deliver a clean verdict no matter how complicated the civil case.

Just catch the bad guy’s crime.

But right now, there was only the suspicion of theft by the second son.

No evidence at all.

Then the answer narrowed to one.

Isn’t it about identifying the real craftsman?

What was the most important thing in a brick factory?

Obviously, producing superior products.

I stood from my seat and threw off the cumbersome judicial robe.

Gasps of confusion erupted from all sides.

“W-What? Your Honor?”

“Why are you suddenly…”

A presiding judge removing his robe mid-trial?

They had likely never witnessed such a sight.

I gazed calmly across the room and spoke.

“Arguing here won’t lead to a conclusion.”

“Then how exactly do you intend to rule?”

“You’ll prove it. Who the true…”

“Successor is?”

“No. Craftsman. As far as I know, Ryuker Bandro baked bricks for many years. It’s written in the submitted documents too. He took great pride in it.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then it’s simple. Make them yourselves. Right in front of me.”

In that instant, the expressions of the plaintiff and defendant diverged sharply.

I had suddenly realized the identity of the true craftsman.