Tartaglia stood wide-eyed and bewildered at the defendant's stand, as if trapped in the middle of an absurd and surreal dream.
Seated on the solemn and majestic judge's bench was Neuvillette. He gently raised his cane and tapped it against the desk—neither too heavy nor too light. A crisp sound echoed through the courtroom.
"It seems I must repeat my question once more, Mr. Tartaglia."
Neuvillette's voice was deep and penetrating, like a frigid wind sweeping across the entire courtroom.
"Regarding the accusation of being the culprit in the 'serial missing girls case,' are you willing to accept the charge?" His gaze was sharp, fixed tightly on Tartaglia, watching for even the slightest change in his expression.
Tartaglia blinked in momentary confusion, then pointed at himself in disbelief.
"You mean to say… a nineteen-year-old like me somehow committed a crime in Fontaine twenty years ago?"
His voice was laced with genuine confusion and incomprehension.
Neuvillette paused, clearly not expecting such a response.
Tartaglia scratched his head and went on, "Honestly, your country's legal procedures are a complete mystery to me. And I really can't figure out why someone would go out of their way to slap such a ridiculous charge on me out of nowhere."
Then, as if something clicked, his eyes lit up.
"However, I did hear that anyone accused has the right to challenge the charges through trial by combat. So if I accept the accusation, does that mean I can have a full-blown, no-holds-barred duel with Clorinde, the Champion Duelist?"
At that, the corners of his mouth curled upward, revealing an excited grin.
"I won't lie—someone like me, who lives for the thrill of battle, has absolutely no reason to refuse!"
Neuvillette slowly lowered his slit-pupiled eyes, a trace of helplessness and concern in his expression.
"Sigh… It seems there's a fundamental communication gap between us, making progress painfully difficult."
"Allow me to reiterate: the core purpose of this trial is to identify the true culprit behind the 'serial missing girls case'…"
Before he could finish, a voice suddenly interrupted him.
"Stop! He's not the culprit!"
Navia dashed onto the stage like a bolt of lightning, her swift figure drawing every pair of eyes like a predator entering the arena.
Neuvillette turned toward her, a flicker of complex emotion in his gaze.
"Miss Navia, this is the second time you've interrupted court proceedings so impulsively."
He spoke calmly, yet his tone carried an undeniable authority.
"Given that you previously submitted a key witness, I tolerated your last intrusion. But you must understand—this is in direct violation of courtroom procedure."
"By all rights, I could charge you with contempt of court."
Navia's face darkened, but she didn't back down. She shot back defiantly:
"Do you honestly believe I have even a shred of respect for the farce unfolding in this place?"
"But that's beside the point. I'm not here to argue with you."
"What I am here to do—is name the true culprit behind the missing girls case."
"If my accusation holds, then this Mr. Tartaglia is innocent, isn't he?"
Tartaglia blinked.
"Oh? Someone barging in to clear my name? How interesting. I was getting bored with all this legal jargon anyway, so… thanks, I guess."
"So does that mean I'm off the hook for now, Your Honor?"
Neuvillette paused in thought.
"…You may take a seat in the audience for now. But that does not mean you're no longer a suspect."
He then turned to Navia.
"Well then, Miss Navia. Who do you accuse?"
Navia crossed her arms.
"It's…"
"It's the president of the Confrerie of Cabriere—Marcel!"
A ripple of whispers spread through the gallery.
"Huh? What organization is that? Never heard of it."
"I know, I know. Isn't that one of the Spina Di Rosula's sister organizations?"
"Ohhh—is this a brotherhood-betrayal kind of story?!"
Neuvillette struck his cane once more.
"Silence!"
"Let me remind you, Miss Navia—an accusation is a grave matter. It means you accept the consequences of your claim."
"If the accusation cannot be proven, you may be charged with slander, depending on the outcome. Even so—do you still wish to proceed?"
Navia answered with complete confidence.
"Yes."
Neuvillette gave a slight nod.
"Then I declare the accusation valid. Miss Navia, please take your position along with your representatives."
In the back rows of the gallery, Furina poked Shajin.
"Hey, Shajin. Wasn't your colleague the one just accused?"
Shajin was gleefully enjoying the spectacle.
"Yup~"
Furina blinked.
"And you're not going to help him?"
Shajin waved her hand dismissively.
"Meh~ Watching the show's more fun."
Furina: "..."
Then Shajin seemed to remember something.
She gave a little wave, and a small cake materialized in her hand. She offered it to Furina.
"This is a new flavor. Try it, Fufu~"
Furina's eyes sparkled.
"You really do have your moments, you rascal."
She picked up the tiny fork and took a bite.
Pfft!
She immediately spat it out.
"What in the Archons' name is this?! This is not what cake is supposed to taste like!!"
Shajin couldn't help but laugh.
"If I remember right… it's Qingxin-flavored~"
"It's custom made. I have a friend who loves that taste."
Furina covered her face.
"You monster! Who in their right mind would like that flavor?!"
…
ACHOO!
Cloud Retainer glanced sideways at Shenhe, who was still chewing a piece of Qingxin.
"Shenhe, did you catch a cold?"
Shenhe rubbed her nose and shook her head.
"No. This feeling… using Shajin's words… it's like someone's badmouthing me behind my back?"
…
Marcel was brought to the defendant's stand, and the trial officially began.
With irrefutable evidence in hand, Navia easily secured a successful prosecution.
Thus, the mystery that had haunted Fontaine for years was finally solved.
Neuvillette's cane struck the floor with a sharp, resounding crack.
"Mr. Marcel. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Marcel clenched his fists and shouted in rage toward the entire courtroom.
"You think… you think I wanted this?!"
_
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