Aldric Benedict didn't sleep that night.
How could he?
How does someone breathe normally after hearing a voice that felt like it slithered into the room rather than through the phone?
"…you have another case. You'll solve it. Or your family dies."
The caller never raised his voice. He didn't need to.
Aldric had stared at the ceiling for hours afterward, heart punching his ribs, the glow of the new apartment's digital clock washing dull red across the room. His mother slept in the next bedroom—finally comfortable, finally medicated, finally calm for the first time in years. His father was resting too, wrapped in the warmth of proper treatment instead of a rickety bed.
And Aldric…
Aldric sat alone on the edge of his mattress, elbows on his knees, staring at the wooden floor, feeling the weight of his new life collapse onto him.
He had wanted change.
He had wanted money.
He had wanted the Law School's mysterious promise of "opportunity."
But not this.
Not this.
Dawn crept into the apartment like a shy stranger, soft light filtering through thin curtains. Aldric stood, legs stiff, and changed into a simple white shirt and black trousers. His new student ID—number 0271—hung cold against his chest. He didn't even remember putting it on.
A notification pinged on his phone.
LAW SCHOOL TRIBUNAL – CASE MATERIALS AVAILABLE.
Client: Rowan Hale.
Charges: Attempted murder, weapon possession, unlawful intent.
Courtroom: 366.
Time: 3:00 p.m.
Aldric froze.
Rowan Hale?
That name. He'd heard it whispered around the city—barely whispers, really. More like pieces of rumor that broke apart whenever you tried to grab them. A young man from the Grey Docks. A troublemaker. A ghost in police files—arrested twice, charged zero times.
And now attempted murder.
Aldric's heart slowed. Then quickened. Then slowed again.
He washed his face, grabbed the folder the school had delivered, and rushed to the bus stop. His hands trembled with each step.
He didn't know whether he was walking toward a courtroom
or into someone's trap.
The building loomed in the distance like it had grown overnight—those same three concentric circles carved into the stone façade. The symbol on the envelope. The symbol from the phone call. The symbol that had always felt… wrong.
Students filed in like regular students do—laughing, chatting, waking up slowly. Except the ones here didn't feel like students. Their eyes were too sharp. Their posture too straight. Their conversations too restrained, like they all knew they were playing a part.
Aldric felt the hairs rise on his arms.
He walked through the front hall, ID tapping against his chest, as his shoes echoed against the polished floor. On the far end, a tall clerk stood waiting for him.
"Mr. Benedict," the clerk said. "Your client is already in holding. Court begins at three. You may review your documents in the east wing."
Aldric nodded and clutched the folder.
"Also," the clerk added, voice lowering, "real observers will be attending today. Including outside counsel. Behave accordingly."
Aldric's chest tightened.
Real people.
Real lawyers.
This time, failure wasn't just a poor grade. Someone out there clearly planned to make this… personal.
The east wing was quieter—long hallways, private desks, tinted windows. Aldric sat down and opened the folder.
Inside:
Police snapshots, but blurred as if someone smeared the ink while printing. A time stamp that didn't match the reported hour. A description of the alleged weapon, but no photograph. Witness statements—all anonymous, all eerily similar, all typed in the same font.
It was sloppy.
Suspicious.
Too curated.
"Someone wants him framed," Aldric whispered.
He didn't know how he knew. He just did. There were patterns—forced patterns—that only appeared when someone fabricated evidence.
But why give him this case?
Why threaten him over it?
A soft knock broke the silence.
A woman in a navy suit stepped into the room, heels barely making sound. Her hair was pinned, her glasses low, her expression unreadable.
Ms. Varo.
She didn't speak at first. Only looked at him—looked through him.
"You received your next assignment," she finally said.
"Yes."
"And you understand that walking away is not an option."
Aldric swallowed. "I understand."
"You look tired."
"I didn't sleep."
"That's normal."
She paused. "Get used to it."
Aldric clenched his jaw.
"Do you know anything about this case?" he asked.
Ms. Varo's lips twitched, almost forming a smile—but one of pity, not happiness.
"You'll learn," she said softly, "that the school provides exactly the amount of information it wants a student to have… and never more. Everything else, Mr. Benedict, you must claw out yourself."
He shivered.
"Courtroom 366," she reminded him. "Three o'clock sharp."
Then she left without another word.
Courtroom 366 was tucked deep in the underground levels—far below the student chambers, far below the administrative floors, far below the lecture halls. The deeper Aldric walked, the colder the building felt.
His footsteps echoed down the stairwell.
Then suddenly… voices.
Buzzing. Murmuring.
He stepped into the waiting foyer and froze.
People—actual citizens—were here. Parents, reporters, strangers wearing nervous expressions. They all wore those visitor badges. Their eyes darted around like they felt something was wrong but could not articulate it.
Aldric forced himself to breathe.
Then his gaze caught the opposing counsel.
A tall man in a charcoal suit stood with his hands in his pockets, hair neat, expression cold enough to frost glass. His blue tie was folded perfectly. His presence screamed authority.
"Jonathan Redd," someone whispered behind Aldric. "One of the youngest prosecutors in the city. They say he's never lost a case."
Perfect. Exactly what Aldric needed.
A prodigy vs a student who hadn't slept and didn't understand why he was here.
Jonathan Redd turned—eyes sharp, observant—and studied Aldric like he was dissecting him with a glance.
"You must be the student."
His voice was smooth, calm, annoyingly steady.
"Aldric Benedict, correct?"
Aldric nodded stiffly. "Yes."
Redd smirked—not cruelly, but confidently.
A predator recognizing the rookie in the forest.
"I've heard about you," Redd said. "The Law School speaks highly of its… newer recruits."
Aldric didn't like the way he said "recruits."
"Good luck," Redd added. "You'll need it. Courtroom 366 isn't forgiving."
Then he walked past without another word.
Aldric's chest tightened.
His breathing grew uneven.
But he forced himself to straighten. Forced his feet to move.
The courtroom doors opened.
Courtroom 366 was circular—unlike any courtroom Aldric had ever seen. The judge's bench was elevated to a towering height. The spectators' seats wrapped around the chamber like an amphitheater. The center stage was small, intimate, blindingly lit.
Aldric stepped inside.
Every whisper stopped.
Every eye locked onto him.
He saw Ms. Varo in the crowd—front row, hands folded elegantly in her lap, watching him with the stillness of a statue.
He inhaled slowly.
Play your role.
Or your family will suffer.
He stepped to the defense table and opened the folder. The pages looked even stranger under the white lights.
Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Rowan Hale was escorted in moments later—thin, sharp-eyed, bruised around the temple. He looked at Aldric, and Aldric instantly saw it:
He's scared.
Not of Aldric.
Not of the trial.
But of whoever put him here.
The judge entered. The gavel struck.
"Case 366-A," the judge called. "The City vs. Rowan Hale. Defense, are you prepared?"
Aldric rose.
He wasn't prepared.
He wasn't trained.
He wasn't even supposed to be here.
But he had no choice.
"Yes, Your Honor," he said, voice steady despite his shaking hands.
The opposing counsel stood.
"Prosecution ready," Jonathan Redd announced.
The judge nodded. "Opening statements will begin shortly."
Aldric skimmed the documents again. His palms sweated. His nerves screamed.
And then—
His phone buzzed silently in his pocket.
He froze.
Slowly, he reached inside and checked it under the table.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
His blood went cold.
The phone vibrated again, and this time he lifted it to his ear without letting anyone see.
A whisper seeped through the speaker.
"Do not disappoint me."
Aldric's heart slammed against his ribs.
"This case, Aldric… you will win it."
He swallowed hard.
"Wh–who are you?" he whispered.
A quiet chuckle slithered from the other end.
"Someone who sees everything."
Aldric's breath hitched.
"Someone who decides what happens to those you care about."
Aldric's stomach twisted.
The voice lowered, colder than ice.
"Now be a good boy… and fight for your client."
Click.
The call ended.
Aldric stared at the ground, breath trembling, fingers numb.
Jonathan Redd stood opposite him, calm. Confident. Ready.
Ms. Varo watched him.
The spectators leaned forward.
The judge lifted his gavel.
Aldric Benedict had never felt more trapped.
And yet—
When he lifted his head, something in him hardened.
The fear didn't vanish.
But it sharpened.
And in that moment, he understood something:
Someone wanted him to break.
Someone wanted to see how far he'd go.
Fine.
If they wanted a show…
He would give them one.
The judge raised the gavel—
Aldric stood.