Damn, I recarneted As A Judge in Fantasy World

Soon, the gallery began to murmur.

"Ugh! This is it."

"At first, I thought it was just another case of nonpayment of wages. But when the judge investigated, new facts came to light?"

"That's strange. Doesn't that mean the prosecutor made a mistake in indicting?"

"It's your first time. You can't help but be confused."

"Oh, I admit that."

Attorney Ernest Calhoun's face flushed at the murmuring crowd.

Because there wasn't a single word they said that was wrong, he appeared embarrassed, as if incompetent.

'It's not that person's fault,' Abel thought, observing him.

Landon continued to speak with an honest attitude. For the sake of his reputation, Viscount Grantham had hidden the fact that he'd given goods in lieu of wages.

It was a situation that would cloud anyone's judgment.

As Abel left the courtroom, he called over to Attorney Calhoun.

"Let's talk for a moment."

"Yes? Yes, Your Honor."

They walked down the empty hallway, where an awkward atmosphere hung in the air. Since it was their first conversation, it couldn't be helped.

"Looking at the court documents, it seems like you did a pretty good job investigating. You even bookmarked the main points in the ledger," Abel said.

"You're too complimentary, Your Majesty," Calhoun replied, though his expression remained dark.

Abel noted the young man didn't realize he was simply offering encouragement. While he genuinely intended to support a junior blaming himself, Abel's words were not empty.

"Really. You did everything else well. You even seemed good at cross-examining witnesses."

"Thank you."

"It's difficult to discern the essence of an incident."

"But, Your Honor, you saw it through in one fell swoop."

"I'm just watching from afar, so I can see it. When something happens right in front of you, your field of vision inevitably narrows. Just keep moving forward silently. You'll see the light someday."

Attorney Ernest Calhoun looked as if he'd just realized something. After a moment, he clenched his fists and answered with determination.

"I will become a great lawyer like Your Honor."

"Uh uh… Yes, that, that's right."

"Thank you!"

Ernest Calhoun bowed at a 90-degree angle and turned around, running away.

Abel watched, slightly dazed. 'I didn't mean to inspire such enthusiasm.' He'd simply wanted to prevent him from becoming discouraged. Yet, somehow, his words had a stronger effect than he'd intended.

"Well, what can I say? If you're passionate, that's good." Abel smiled, a sense of relief filling him as he returned to his office. Another painful trial resolved.

But then, just as he relaxed, a sudden commotion erupted around him.

"Now, just a moment! Your Honor!"

"Oh no! This won't do!"

A man suddenly burst through the courtroom doors, rushing out and collapsing face-first in front of him. Embarrassed court reporters hurried over, but they struggled to lift him.

'Who is this person?' Abel wondered.

It was Landon, who had just been convicted of embezzlement. Though clearly an ordinary person, he appeared so desperate that he resisted even knights skilled in Aura.

"What is happening? Why are you doing this?" Abel asked.

"Your Honor! Even if I'm guilty, three years for stealing a few gold coins is too much!"

"Why do you think so?"

"Shouldn't this be judged as simple theft, not embezzlement?"

Landon seemed like a rather clever man. Although some of the free folk were educated, few were as astute as him. Perhaps that's why the Earl of Grantham had hired him as an employee.

"Mr. Landon, as an employee at the general store, didn't you also manage the safe?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that where you keep other people's property? If you embezzle money from there, it's punished severely. This is called a status crime. Do you understand?"

Knowing he could reason, Abel assumed he would understand. Yet Landon persisted.

"But could you reduce the sentence a little? I heard that the judge's discretion strongly influences sentencing."

"Originally, we were planning on a sentence of about 10 years. However, because the damage was minimal, we significantly reduced it."

"Could I ask one more thing?"

"No matter what you say, the sentence won't change. So just turn around… No, should someone under arrest be walking around like this?"

Abel shifted his gaze to the court reporters, prompting a flustered explanation.

"Because he resisted so fiercely, we hesitated to use force, fearing he might get hurt. Somehow, things ended up like this."

"What's the protocol for handling cases like this?"

"Use force."

"Follow it."

"Yes!"

The courtroom knights seized Landon with firm hands, dragging him away despite his protests.

He kept shouting something, but Abel didn't look back. 'If it's only three years, you got off easy. Come back when you've learned your lesson.' Imperial prisons weren't designed for reform, yet who knows? It might yield positive results.

"What a challenging trial," Abel muttered, shaking his head. From dealing with an inexperienced prosecutor to an embezzler in denial, none of it had been easy. Exhausted, Abel trudged along, suddenly remembering something.

"Oh, right. There are no more trials today?"

The thought refreshed him, and he felt a sudden surge of energy. Taking off his robe and grabbing his papers, he hurried out of the court, just as Uncle Brandon arrived with a carriage.

"Oh my! You're out earlier than scheduled."

"Yes, I guess I walked faster because I'm in a good mood."

"Shall we leave right away?"

"Yes, let's."

Abel quickly climbed into the passenger seat, only for a shadow to approach from afar and swiftly close in on him. The figure that appeared before him was Cordell McNeil, his escort knight.

"Why are you coming from that direction? Aren't you supposed to be doing your job properly?"

"You were in court, right? There's no reason to hover. Besides, what happened here is known to everyone."

Abel raised an eyebrow, questioning the value of his "guard." Shaking his head, he settled into the seat, knowing that dealing with Cordell could get infuriating.

Then, Cordell suddenly asked an odd question.

"Your Highness, Duke Shuguri."

"Yes?"

"My back hurts. Should I use a hot compress? Or a cold compress?"

Curious, Abel inquired, "How did you get hurt?"

Cordell sighed, "I got a bit twisted during a dance battle at the party. So many pretty people. I couldn't pass up the chance."

"… …"

Abel fell silent. While he had spent the day in court, his escort knight had apparently been off enjoying a party.

"I've got some great medicine for your back. Would you like to try it?"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Oh! Really?"

"Sure."

Cordell McNeil approached with a hopeful grin.

Abel reached into his robe, saying quietly, "I think what Sir McNeil truly needs is a beating with a stick."

***

As Abel settled back into his carriage, Cordell's smirk lingered in his mind. His escort knight certainly had a way of handling his duties—or perhaps, evading them.

Abel glanced out of the window, wondering if Cordell's easygoing attitude would ever change. Maybe one day he'd learn that his responsibilities didn't end the moment the courtroom doors closed.

"Sir McNeill might actually be a worse headache than any criminal," Abel murmured to himself, his lips curving into a faint smile.

The thought of his loyal, if unconventional, knight actually listening to his warnings was almost amusing.

The carriage rolled through the winding city streets as he reviewed the day's events in his mind.

Between instructing Prosecutor Calhoun on the finer points of courtroom decorum and dismissing Landon's frantic pleas, Abel's mind was weighed down by the complexities of justice.

Today was one of those days when his position as a judge felt less like a duty and more like a burden. But even with all that, he knew his role was necessary, balancing on the thin line between justice and mercy.

The carriage took a turn, and Abel could see the expansive stretch of evening skyline.

From this vantage point, the city lights glittered like stars, stretching out into the distance. A rare sense of calm washed over him. It was moments like these that reminded him why he did what he did—to protect and serve a city that was both beautiful and flawed.

Uncle Brandon cleared his throat, jolting Abel out of his thoughts. "You seem deep in reflection tonight, Your Honor," he said, guiding the reins with a steady hand.

Abel's smile faded slightly as he replied, "Every trial feels like a reflection, Uncle. Today was no different. I saw glimpses of what could have been—if Landon hadn't chosen a dishonest path, if Ernest Calhoun hadn't doubted himself. But then again, we can't change who people choose to be."

Uncle Brandon nodded knowingly. "It's true. You see the best and worst of people every day. That has to weigh on you."

"It does," Abel admitted. "But it also reminds me to keep striving for that balance, even if it's exhausting."

The carriage finally arrived at his estate, and Abel stepped out with a tired sigh. Uncle Brandon, ever-watchful, handed him a lantern, casting a soft glow over the darkened grounds.

"Get some rest, Your Highness," Uncle Brandon advised. "Tomorrow brings another day, and who knows what it'll hold?"

Abel nodded. As he walked up the steps to his home, he could hear Cordell calling after him from somewhere in the distance.

"Your Honor! Do you have that remedy you mentioned for my back?"

His voice echoed through the quiet night, an ever-present reminder that his day, it seemed, was far from over.

With a resigned smile, Abel opened the door and called back, "I'll see what I can do, Sir McNeill. But remember, some remedies hurt before they heal."