THE COURT – ANOTHER COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DEBT

"Are you Rosweld White?"

Rosweld hid the book in his hand inside his robe and replied, "Yes. Who are you?"

A man with straight, shoulder-length hair, narrow green eyes, a clean-shaven pointed chin, wearing light armor and a cloak, responded, "I am Daniel Kemeny, one of the knights of the Supreme Court. I am assigned to escort you safely to the city where the trial will be held."

Yura protested internally.

"There was nothing about this in Rosweld's notes! How could he be foolish enough to leave out something this important?"

Maintaining a calm demeanor, Rosweld asked, "May I know what the case is about?"

Daniel answered, "Debt. A lawsuit has been filed against you upon the complaint of Madam Olivia, the owner of the brothel called 'Warm Breaths,' for failing to make any monthly payments on the promissory note you signed. Please come willingly before we resort to force."

Raising his hands to chest level, Rosweld said, "Relax, relax! I have no intention of resisting. I just want to stop by my house before we go."

Daniel placed his hand on Rosweld's shoulder. "I will take you to the city."

Rosweld sighed. "Alright, let's go then."

Daniel took a twenty-sided, palm-sized turquoise-colored stone from the pouch on his left hip. Each face of the stone bore a different symbol, and it emitted a light so bright that it shone like a star even in broad daylight.

Holding the stone in his right hand, Daniel firmly grasped Rosweld's shoulder with his left.

"Please close your eyes."

Without hesitation, Rosweld did as he was told, and a wave of warmth enveloped his body. It felt like a furnace was burning right in front of him, causing him to break into a sweat. However, as soon as the air around him cooled, a command followed.

"You may open your eyes."

When Rosweld opened his eyes, there was no cheerful city nor dazzling streets before him. The people walked with their heads down, their cheeks sunken from hunger, and the stench of sewage wafted from the alleyways.

Daniel began walking. "Follow me."

As Rosweld followed the knight, he continued observing his surroundings while engaging in an internal dialogue.

"If food is such a severe issue here, why does this body I've taken over feel so well-nourished, as if it has never suffered from hunger? Could there be some kind of mystical magic at play where I stayed? Or is my food coming from another source? No, that's impossible. I've spent a few days in this body, yet I've never felt the slightest hunger or thirst. Even after overworking myself and fainting once, I woke up completely fine. This body… is definitely not normal."

As Rosweld White followed Knight Daniel through the filth-ridden streets filled with starving and exhausted people, he found himself standing before a building completely detached from the city's poverty. This massive structure, adorned with precious stones on its columns, had a golden door accessible via a short flight of stairs. A red carpet stretched from the entrance to the street, and its towering peak was designed to resemble a king's crown. Every inch of it sparkled, exuding an air of immense wealth.

Knight Daniel grabbed both handles of the grand door and pushed forward. As the heavy doors slowly opened, a refreshing yet distinctly pleasant spring fragrance hit Rosweld's face.

Daniel stepped aside without the slightest courtesy and simply said, "Enter."

Rosweld stepped inside. The doors shut behind him, and directly in front of him sat the judge at the bench—a portly man with flabby arms, a powdered wig on his head, and a different ring on each of his plump fingers. Rosweld took his place, and to his right, the jury members could be seen: some picking their noses, some absent, and others staring into the distance.

The judge struck his gavel firmly once against the bench.

"Defendant Rosweld White, are you aware that you have been summoned to court on charges of failing to pay your debt?"

Rosweld replied, "I was not aware until Knight Daniel informed me."

The judge continued, "Is it true that you signed a promissory note?"

"I don't remember, Your Honor."

The judge glanced at the paper before him, reading the list of questions, and Yuma suddenly had a realization.

"This courtroom atmosphere is quite strange. The person filing the complaint isn't here, nor is their lawyer. Moreover, I don't even have a lawyer. Could it be…"

Yuma internally burst into laughter, rubbing his hands together.

"Perfect. I can establish the first-ever law firm in history here. But there's a major problem—I don't know the laws of this world. Ugh! I really need a lot of books."

The judge said, "A promissory note, allegedly signed by the accused, has been submitted by the plaintiff. Did you sign such a note?"

"As far as I remember, no."

The judge grumbled as he glanced at the questions before him, then fixed his gaze on the defendant, Rosweld White.

"Can you prove that this signature does not belong to you?"

Without losing his composure, Rosweld replied with a question, "Has the plaintiff proven that the signature belongs to me?"

The judge rubbed his temple with his left hand, grumbled once again, and struck his gavel against the bench. "Ruling."

Rosweld was taken aback by the judge's reaction and found himself at a loss for words. His heart pounded with anxiety.

"W-what? He's not going to make a decision based on just a few questions, is he? I hope he's not that foolish."

"Due to the insufficiency of the presented evidence and the lack of a thorough investigation, the trial is postponed for three days. In the meantime, the defendant, Rosweld White, will be tried without detention."

Yuma smirked to himself.

"Well, I suppose that's something. He could have just declared me guilty on the spot. But it seems like he's trying to do his job properly. Still, the rings on his fingers and this courthouse… How do they stay so wealthy in the midst of all this poverty? Whatever, that's a problem for another time. Now that I have a whole three days, I should go talk to the woman who claims I owe her. Maybe we can reach an agreement."

The moment Rosweld stepped out of the courtroom, a muscular woman was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well?"

With his hands in his pockets and a smug grin, Rosweld asked, "Weren't you supposed to be doing your job? Why are you so curious about me?"

The woman sighed. "Fine, let's just pretend I didn't ask," she said and fell silent.

"Great. Then, would you mind telling me where the brothel is?"

Her fists clenched, and her expression twisted in disgust.

"Are you serious?"

Rosweld sighed dramatically. "Ah! The owner of the brothel, 'Warm Breaths,' is the one suing me. I'm going there to talk to her. That's why I'm asking. So, where is it?"

The woman puffed out her chest. "That's not my job."

"Well, fine then... I'll just ask the local merchants. Like that waiter standing at the entrance of that restaurant, for instance."

The moment he took a step toward the restaurant, something grabbed him by the nape, lifting his feet off the ground. The woman twisted his body toward her without releasing her grip, her gaze burning with anger.

"I'll take you there myself," she said. "At least try to act with some dignity for your family's sake. Cover your face with your robe."

Rosweld immediately did as he was told and raised a thumbs-up to signal his readiness. The muscular woman started walking.