Damian's smirk didn't waver.
If anything, it deepened.
I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression neutral as he adjusted his stance, exuding confidence.
"Mr. Leviathan," he said smoothly, "are you familiar with the individuals known as Mr. Dome, Mr. Lust, Mr. Fade, and Mr. Anvil?"
Not outwardly. But internally, every alarm in my head rang at once.
I didn't recognize those names.
Mr. Dome. The imposter from the trial I had been a juror for. The man who had stolen the Masked Syndicate's name to cover his own crimes.
I met Damian's gaze, forcing calm into my voice. "I have heard of Mr. Dome," I admitted. "But we are not affiliated. As for the others, I have no knowledge of them."
Damian turned toward the Lie Detector.
The man—stoic, unreadable—nodded slightly. "He speaks the truth."
A small flicker of relief settled in my chest.
If I had no knowledge of them, how could I be responsible for their crimes?
Not in frustration. Not in defeat.
Like I had given him exactly what he wanted.
And then, Damian began speaking.
He spoke in a slow, deliberate tone—like a man weaving a story, shaping the room's perception with each word.
"These individuals," he started, "have used the Masked Syndicate's name to commit crimes. They have engaged in fraud, deception, and in some cases, outright violence."
I already knew where this was going.
I took a sharp breath and slammed my hands against the stand. "Objection! Relevance."
The judge glanced at me, considering.
"Overruled," he said firmly. "There is a clear connection between these individuals and the Masked Syndicate."
Damian gave me a mockingly grateful nod. "Thank you, Your Honor."
He turned back to me.
His words came sharper now.
"These criminals," he continued, "used your organization's name to commit fraud. They claimed to be something they weren't. They manipulated their supposed 'ranks' to deceive others, to convince them that they were something far more capable than what was seen on their official records."
He was framing this perfectly.
He wasn't accusing us of those crimes.
But he was implying that we had created the circumstances that allowed them to happen.
He locked eyes with me.
"Do you deny these claims, Mr. Leviathan?"
I knew what he was doing.
If I said yes, I'd be outright lying—because I couldn't deny that corrupt individuals had abused the Masked Syndicate's name.
And if I said no, I'd be admitting some level of guilt.
"No," I said, my voice even. "I do not deny it."
I had no other choice.
Damian let that answer settle over the courtroom.
The jury sat a little straighter.
The audience leaned forward slightly.
He had just planted the seed of doubt.
He had framed the Masked Syndicate as a dangerous, uncontrolled entity. One that enabled criminals, whether we were aware of it or not.
And I had no way of disproving it.
"No further questions, Your Honor."
The weight of the courtroom pressed down on me as I stood from the witness stand.
I moved stiffly back to the defense table, my thoughts racing.
I had lost that exchange.
And worse—Damian had set up something that I couldn't easily dismantle.
He had taken advantage of the Masked Syndicate's secrecy, of the very nature that made us untouchable, and turned it into a weakness.
We had no official records. No clear way of proving who was or wasn't a member.
Any criminal could claim to be one of us.
And the public would believe it.
I sat down, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
I needed a way to break this argument.
I scanned my skill list mentally.
I had two lawyer skills I hadn't used yet.
Closing Statement (Lv. 3).
Corruption Identification (Lv. 3).
Neither of those would help me right now.
That left Persuasive Argumentation (Lv. 5).
I tapped my fingers against the table, considering.
My gaze flickered up toward the judge.
Slowly—deliberately—I stood.
"Your Honor," I said, my voice calm. "I would like to motion to dismiss."
The entire courtroom froze.
The jury blinked in surprise.
The audience murmured.
Even Damian's expression cracked for just a moment—his confidence faltering as he processed what I had just said.
The judge narrowed his eyes. "Explain yourself, Mr. Leviathan."
I took a slow breath.
And then, with complete confidence, I spoke.
"This case is about the alleged crimes of Mr. Fox, Mr. Dust, and Mr. Angel," I stated. "The accusations revolve around them hiding their rank, their skills, and potentially engaging in acts of terrorism."
I let that settle for a moment.
"But the prosecution has introduced an entirely different set of individuals—Mr. Dome, Mr. Lust, Mr. Fade, and Mr. Anvil—who are not my clients, who are not affiliated with us, and whose actions should have no impact on this trial."
Damian's hands clenched.
"This is no different than blaming a CEO because a criminal wore their brand while committing a crime," I continued. "Or holding an innocent person responsible simply because a fraudster pretended to be them."
I stood up from my seat while gesturing my hand slightly towards Damian
"If the prosecution truly believes that my clients are guilty of these crimes, then they should present actual evidence linking them to these acts. Instead, they are relying on guilt by association—an association that does not exist."
"The actions of imposters are not evidence against my clients. They are not legally connected. They are not responsible for their crimes."
"And for that reason, Your Honor, I motion to dismiss these accusations as irrelevant to the case."
A long, heavy silence.
One side of the audience looked relieved.
Another looked uncertain.
And some—those who had already made up their minds about the Masked Syndicate—looked furious.
The judge steepled his fingers, mulling over my words. Then—after a long pause—Bang.
Damian's head snapped toward the judge.
"Y-Your Honor, you're surely jesting," he said, his tone less composed than usual with his fingers digging into his palms. "There is a clear connection—"
"Drop it, Mr. Voss," the judge said, his voice firm.
Damian's jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue—but then, with a slow exhale, he forced himself to nod. "...Understood."
I let myself sink back into my chair, breathing out slowly.
That had been too close.
The judge leaned forward.
"That concludes today's proceedings. The court is adjourned until tomorrow."
A mixture of reactions spread through the room.
And some—like Damian—looked beyond frustrated.
The first day was over.
And I had made it out alive.
But this was just the beginning.