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Kristoph Gavin was not afraid to admit that he was an evil man. He always had been and always would be. He had confessed as much already, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that enough in a court of law? Evidence is everything, and a confession is pretty damning evidence, if he did say so himself. But they wanted more from him. They wanted reasons. They wanted justification for his crimes. They wanted an excuse to forgive him. For as long as he lived, however, he would not give up his motivations. After all, it was the only part of him left secret now. To give an explanation would be to give up his soul- not that he had one, really, but it was the thought that counted.
Kristoph Gavin had known he was evil for a while now. He was honestly astounded that so many had missed the signs for so long. Wasn’t it obvious in everything he did? The way he walked, and talked, and spoke, and breathed, and lived? Surely, they should have seen it coming. Yet they all seemed surprised when they uncovered the beast that was hiding in plain sight. The monster that stared at him through the mirror. The devil dancing in human skin. It waltzed his body around, whispering lies into other’s ears, telling his brain to rip, and tear, and stab, and kill. It was the source of all bad things. Why hadn’t anyone been able to see it? He had no choice but to admire it of course- it was such a perfect, dazzling being, though perhaps it would be better if he could properly disguise it. Other people were hiding their own inner demons, after all, and they were capable of concealing them. But no, he was cursed to be puppeteered around proudly by that arrogant bastard. That beautiful, wretched bastard that he was. He despised it. He hated it. He detested it. He loathed it. Most of all, though, he loved it. It was his, after all.
Kristoph Gavin knew that people looked down at him for being evil. All those hypocrites that had come to visit him, acting all high-and-mighty over the fact that they had, so far, avoided the urge to kill, as though they were any better than him. They were practically rubbing their superiority in his face at this point. How obnoxious. His own oblivious echo of a brother had even come sauntering in at one point, a pitiful look plaguing his face, asking why he had done it, over and over again. Was he trying to infuriate him? It seemed purposeful at this point. And, to make matters worse, he kept coming back. Why couldn’t that good-for-nothing waste of space just leave him alone? He would have preferred if he just pretended that he didn’t have a brother, rather than keep bothering him about it. He was doing that quite easily himself, most of the time. But no, Klavier wasn’t even capable of doing that properly. Typical. He didn’t know why he still felt affection for him, after all this time. Was something so worthless even deserving of love? Was anyone? Of course not. But that didn’t stop his cold, bitter heart from feeling. He wished he could make it stop.
Kristoph Gavin may have been an evil man, but wasn’t everyone, in the end? He was no worse than anyone else he ever had the displeasure of meeting, that was certain. Was everyone just too much of a coward to admit that they were just like him? That they would have done exactly as he had, if given the chance? Phoenix Wright, for instance. If he had been rejected instead, if he had been the one to lose, surely he would have also resorted to murder. It was only logical, after all. It made sense. Who wouldn’t have made the same mistakes he had? It was almost laughable that, of all the things, a single game of cards had determined which of them would have committed the crime. That was all that it took. It was the difference between a hero and a villain. But really, would it have changed anything, in the end? Would it really have altered either of their stories? Of course it wouldn’t. That cheat would probably find a way to blame it all on him anyway. So, it hadn’t mattered at all, really. All of it was meaningless. Nothing they did mattered. That wouldn’t stop him from hating that man any more than he did right now, however.
Kristoph Gavin knew that people were capable of forgiving evil. That, as long as a person apologised, their crimes would be dismissed. As long as they hadn’t actually killed anyone, since apparently murder is the worst crime that could ever be committed, it’s all completely fine. The current Chief Prosecutor had done so much wrong, had caused lifetimes of pain, but the only one punishing him was himself. He had gotten away with everything he had done with barely a slap on the wrist. Even the most stubborn of fools held no grudge against him. It was ridiculous. How was the legacy of the Demon Prosecutor so easily forgotten? So many innocents put in jail. So many dead as a result of his actions. But because he hadn’t done any of it with his own two hands, it was alright. Maybe the reason Miles Edgeworth could so easily choose death for himself, was because he had already condemned others to the same fate. Maybe it was his way of righting all of his wrongs. Or maybe it was just his way of getting off easily.
Kristoph Gavin knew that it was his destiny to be evil. He knew that no matter what, it was always going to end this way. Even if he had been closer to his shallow little brother, even if he had truly appreciated him despite their differences, he still would have used him in the end. Even if he had won that card game, even if he had switched places with that despicable Phoenix Wright, he still would have killed for his own gain, or else been framed for it. Even if he had tried gaining sympathy, even if he tried doing as the Demon Prosecutor had once done before, he would still have been found guilty of his crimes. Nothing he could have done would have changed this fact. He knew that all of this was his fate.
Which meant that none of it was his fault.