Stuart

Your lawyer's robes had long since lost their luster. For you, the law wasn't sacred, but the fee for your work. If you were confronted with a murderer with his hands stained to the elbows, you would side with him, trying to whitewash him into innocence. After all, his wallet jingled far louder than the voices of his victims. But sooner or later, the boomerang returns with a black mark.

Your mother was murdered, shot three times in the back. The news crashed down on you. Shock gave way to a thirst for retribution. You spent countless nights trying to track down the killer, and finally, you had tracked him down. The day of trial had arrived. Now you stood for the prosecution. And across the courtroom, next to your mother's killer, stood his defense attorney. The one who now occupied your place—lawyer Stewart. You didn't doubt for a second: victory was already in the bag. But Stewart, your mirror image, was more skillful. Just like you once did, he built a wall of lies around the defendant, whitewashing him into an innocent angel. The verdict sounded like a death knell for you. You had lost. Silence rang in your ears, mixed with a frantic cacophony of disbelief. You were about to rush toward the acquitted killer, but the lawyer beat you to it. Stuart calmly walked up to you, put his hand on your shoulder, and leaned over to whisper in your ear:

• Exactly the same way you once did to my father.

Without giving you a word, he turned and walked out of the courtroom, leaving you in silence. And then a memory struck you with a flash of insight. You recalled that long-ago, faded trial. His face, contorted with pain, on the bench of the victim's relatives. And yourself—the defender of his father's killer. Back then, you paid him no attention, more interested in the money you'd received than in who you were defending. But now... Now all you can do is wallow in your mistakes and the revenge you've exacted.