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After the day’s hearing, Manfred von Karma closed his briefcase and made his way to the courtroom exit.
All things considered, he was doing well. The police had finally come through with the autopsy, and between the cause of death and the time listed on the report, it should have been obvious to anyone of reasonable intellect that Jeffrey Master was the only one who could have committed this murder. The witnesses he had summoned had performed their prescribed roles perfectly, hardly even flinching when that worthless defense attorney pressed them for details.
Still, despite Manfred’s best efforts, the defense had managed to drag the trial out for several months already. Manfred was no stranger to longer trials (though if you asked him, a single session should be more than enough to present a perfect case), but it was rare for any of his trials to last longer than two weeks, rarer still a month. This Gregory Edgeworth was, annoyingly enough, proving to be his toughest opponent yet.
Defense attorneys were like bugs, Manfred always maintained. Needless things. To be crushed. He never bothered to remember any beyond the cases he’d decimated, the tears of defeat he’d relished at the end of every perfect victory. But if defense attorneys were bugs, Edgeworth was a cockroach, always lingering, always escaping from under his heel. Lingering, as he always did, on the edges of Manfred’s consciousness, the laugh-lined smile just visible behind his coat collar stoking the deepest contempt Manfred had ever felt.
And yet, refusing to leave him be…
Without consciously willing it, Manfred’s feet carried him to the door of the defendant lobby. He lifted his cane as he approached the door, ignoring the pain that flashed through his body as he took those last few steps— as satisfying as it was to watch the pathetic fools he was surrounded by straighten up in fright at the sound of his cane, he was doing reconnaissance, and to that end, he would need to be somewhat stealthy. He would have to catch his enemy in a moment of weakness to see what he looked like without his defenses raised.
With the door ajar, Manfred watched from the other side as Edgeworth stepped into the room, bending down as a smaller silver-haired figure ran up to greet him.
“Father!” the boy chirped, squeezing Edgeworth around the middle.
Edgeworth’s arms settled around the boy as he pulled him close. “Hello, Miles.”
“You were amazing today,” the boy gushed, with a spark in his eyes that Manfred could see even from the doorway, even from Edgeworth’s other side. “Your cross-examination was brilliant. And calling in the coroner! If you just had a little more time to question her, I’m certain you’ll be able to save Mr. Master.”
Manfred barely held back a scoff. Summoning Dr. Young to testify had been one of Edgeworth’s more effective stalling tactics. The time she spent hobbling to the witness stand at the ripe old age of forty-two was time enough for Edgeworth to prepare a line of questioning for her, and that time, as far as Manfred was concerned, was the difference between a conviction now and the trial being endlessly protracted.
Such matters as true justice, however, were of little concern to the boy in Edgeworth’s arms who continued to spew his sickening praise. “One day, I want to be a defense attorney just like you.”
“I know,” Edgeworth said, his voice softer than Manfred had ever heard it. “But not for a while, okay? Studying hard is important, but having fun is important too.”
“I am having fun,” the boy protested, pulling out something small and made of red plastic. “See this? It’s the Signal Red from Larry’s keychain set. He and Phoenix and I spend every recess together. I have friends now, Father, just like you always wanted me to.”
Manfred turned up his nose in revulsion. Friends. Some of his professional associates threw the word around, but none of them were worthy of being called his friends, not any more than the boys he had attended school with. He had never been especially close with any of his classmates, the common rabble never able to match his academic performance, and he had refused to be dragged down to their level— a lesson he had tried and failed to pass on. His firstborn daughter had formed some unwise friendships, the girls in her class poisoning her mind with frivolities and dragging her down from her rightful place as a von Karma, and because of those friends, she had disowned the family the very minute she turned eighteen. It had been over a year now since Manfred had last heard from her.
Edgeworth smiled, his approval of this childish behavior revolting. “Presenting evidence to support your argument. You’re going to make a great lawyer one day.”
The red plastic trinket dangled from the boy’s hand, and Manfred didn’t think he had ever hated an object more. This was what passed for evidence in Edgeworth’s mind? Manfred barely held back a contemptuous scoff.
Unaware of Manfred’s contempt, Edgeworth got to his feet and ruffled his son’s hair, a gesture he had witnessed from afar on occasion but never understood— even a hair out of place could ruin a perfect image, and ruffling the hair scattered it entirely. “Since you’re on spring break, what do you say we invite Phoenix and Larry for a sleepover sometime?”
The boy lit up, a broad smile spreading across his face. “That sounds wonderful! I’ll call them as soon as we get home.”
Father and son continued talking in annoyingly cheerful voices that faded away as they took their leave, and even though Manfred had no reason to, he continued to linger by the open door to the defendant lobby, his blood boiling with rage.
He stared for longer than he cared to remember at where Gregory Edgeworth had just been, the enemy’s silhouette burned into his retinas. Edgeworth had many different smiles— the one he forced when he and Manfred encountered each other while investigating, the grimace when Manfred’s arguments caught him off guard, the small look of determination he wore in court. But the expression that crossed Edgeworth’s face when greeting his son was rather unlike any of the others. The creases around his mouth deepened, the corners of his eyes wrinkled, and even the tone of his voice was a far cry from anything Manfred had heard from him before. This cockroach of a defense attorney, the most stubborn opponent Manfred had ever faced, had another side, one he had never seen before.
If Manfred had to say, it reminded him of how his wife had been when their first child was born. While she hadn’t been heartless or cruel before, she hadn’t exactly been soft or affectionate either, which was fine by him. Their marriage had served a single purpose, one for which affection was not necessary. Still, in those first few years, his wife’s manner around the infant was one he had never seen before nor imagined her capable of. Come to think of it, that was likely why their first child had been a failure— spoiled by her mother, she had been incapable of furthering the von Karma legacy. Yes, that was surely it. If there were any silver lining to his widower status, it meant that Franziska would not be spoiled in the same manner.
Against his will, an image flickered across his mind: Edgeworth turning that same smile toward his nearly two-year-old daughter, stroking her hair and telling her the same nonsense he told the boy, giving Manfred his usual pained grimace— or worse yet, the same smile he showed the children, letting down his coat collar, the laugh lines of his genuine smile lighting within Manfred an uncontrollable blaze—
With great effort, Manfred finally peeled himself away from the doorway and made his way to the elevator. His work for the day was not yet done. He had several other cases to review and his perfect record had thus far remained intact— he could not allow this worthless defense attorney to take up any more space in his mind. These… feelings he had burdened Manfred with served no useful purpose. They were a curse that he would do anything to be rid of.
Once the elevator arrived, he stepped inside and resolutely pressed the button for the parking garage, imagining a scenario where the boy was impressed with him instead.