Damn, I recarneted As A Judge in Fantasy World

I was in a state of deep distress.

The situation with the character named Basset was unsettling, to say the least. I had come here intending to take things lightly, but now my mind was swirling with complications.

'He thought I could just let this slide? That's absurd.'

If so, how could the word "evil" even be justified?

Initially, I was confused, but as time passed, my confusion turned into anger.

It was true that Basset was a homeless vagabond, but did poverty always equate to goodness? Absolutely not.

In any society, good and evil coexist. Moreover, human morality is often shaped by circumstances and environment.

'Let's not jump to conclusions.'

Everyone has a little devil inside their heart, and there might have been extenuating circumstances.

What if Basset had stolen out of fear, perhaps threatened to do so? I glanced at the prosecutor, who continued his questioning.

He wasn't a figure of remarkable growth like Corbin Sears, but he was a seasoned veteran in his field.

"At least don't conduct your investigation sloppily...'

"That's all," he said.

Huh? It's over already?

It seemed like only a few words had been exchanged, but the questioning was already finished. I was so surprised that I just blinked.

'I know you want to wrap this up quickly, but this is a bit much.'

Shouldn't there at least be some semblance of thoroughness? I quickly summoned the inspector's information window.

**[Personal Information]**

**Name:** Johnny Duckworth

**Status:** Viscount

**Position:** General Inspector

**Relationship:** ——

**Status:** Boredom from long public service, loss of interest in trivial trials. Sharp, sharp angles.

**Overall Ability:** C

'Look at this guy. A Runak?'

I had thought he was a veteran, but he turned out to be a salaryman with no enthusiasm.

If you approach court with a mindset of quitting at any time, how can you expect proper results?

He just asked some formal questions and ended it. I sighed inwardly and looked at the defendant again. A pitiful sight, looking up with tears in her eyes.

'Wow! Look at this level of realism. It's worthy of an Oscar Award.'

Perhaps because the skill was so ingrained in him, Basset's acting was at an incredible level.

It was so impressive that even the coldest of hearts would feel sympathy. That's why people sent petitions. Plus, he was receiving voluntary, free legal representation.

This world had no public defender system.

"The defendant's two children had already been starving for three days at that time. As a father, he had to do whatever it took," the lawyer concluded, and sighs erupted from the audience.

It seemed they were intent on maximizing public sympathy. In fact, it was a very suitable strategy.

Because I had a reputation as a judge who was friendly to the common people, some even called me a saint.

'But what can I do? I have my own interests.'

Of course, I couldn't fully see through people's minds, but being able to read even fragments of their thoughts was a tremendous advantage.

Isn't it the same now? I could infer the defendant's intentions just from a few words. I waited until the murmurs died down and then spoke slowly.

"Defendant."

"Ugh! Yes, Your Honor."

"As a father, it breaks my heart to hear that your children were starving."

"I'm sorry. Even under those circumstances, I shouldn't have stolen the item…"

"Of course, but there is something called leniency."

"That would mean a lot. What about the children? How are they now?"

Concerned eyes turned toward the defendant. The scrutiny must have been quite burdensome, but the answers flowed smoothly as if rehearsed.

"They're okay. They're doing well, thanks to your help."

"It looks like you don't have a home. Where are you staying?"

"It's a government office building on the outskirts of the city."

It was common for vagrants to stay in unusual accommodations, but it was rare for a couple with two children.

At this point, another sigh rippled through the courtroom. Even those who lived without sympathy seemed moved. I continued asking questions, ignoring the reactions of the audience.

"That's a poor environment. How old are the children?"

"Seven and six years old."

"How did you end up on the street?"

"My wife passed away when our house caught fire. I couldn't work properly afterward, so I was kicked out of the land we were farming."

"How long has it been?"

"A little over a year."

"Where was the burned house?"

"Uh… It was in the Barony of Relbrandt."

"To be more precise."

"It was a small village on a hill north of the territory. It was called Picant."

The defendant hesitated for a moment before naming a place.

At that very moment, I smiled meaningfully. It was because he mentioned a very familiar area. It seems he chose a distant place on purpose, thinking I wouldn't be able to check it.

"Very well. Court reporter."

"Yes, Your Honor." Explore stories at m,v l'e-m|p| y r

"Quickly call the head of the correctional headquarters. I will summon him as a witness."

"Yes!"

This time, there was no need to send an inspector as we had done when requesting cooperation from the church.

Baron Relbrandt would respond to my summons immediately. As expected, the witness arrived shortly thereafter.

"Was there a fire in the village of Picant a year ago?" I asked.

"Yes, twenty houses were completely burned down. It was such a significant incident that I remember it vividly."

At that time, Baron Relbrandt had not yet been replaced by his doppelgänger, so I received a straightforward answer. I nodded and continued my questioning.

"Were there any survivors? The defendant mentioned a man and two children."

"No. No one escaped at that time. The fire broke out suddenly in the early morning."

It would be impossible to conduct a census in a distant, rural territory, but if there had been survivors, they would have certainly remained in Baron Relbrandt's memory.

It had been quite a shocking incident. I narrowed my eyes at the defendant.

"I see. You survived that hell, so why didn't you ask for help?"

…

A terrible silence fell over the courtroom.

Defendant Basset said nothing.

Even his outstanding acting skills were of no use now. I had hit the nail on the head. I was going to drive the point home.

"You said your children were in the residence hall? Court reporter, bring them here immediately."

"Yes!"

The court reporter's voice boomed with authority.

Unlike when I had summoned Baron Relbrandt, his gaze was sharp, as if he were ready to sever Basset's head right then and there.

After quite some time, the court reporter returned, accompanied by a pair of siblings who looked as if they had been through a lot.