682 | Teru Mikami

The heavy oak doors of the courtroom shut with a dull, echoing thud. Outside, the autumn rain beat relentlessly against the high glass windows of the Ministry of Justice, but inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly still.Teru Mikami walked down the marble corridor, his leather briefcase gripped tightly in his right hand. His steps were measured, perfectly timed to the steady rhythm he maintained every single day. To the rest of the world, he was the model prosecutor—flawless, unyielding, and utterly dedicated to the letter of the law. His dark suit was immaculate, without a single wrinkle, and his silver-rimmed glasses sat perfectly straight on the bridge of his nose.But behind the calm, intellectual facade, a cold, righteous anger was simmering.Just moments ago, a notorious criminal had walked free on a technicality—a loophole exploited by a corrupt defense attorney. Mikami had watched the man smile as he left the courtroom. A parasite. A cancer on society, Teru thought, his jaw tightening slightly. The human legal system was weak. It was flawed, slow, and bound by pathetic bureaucracy that allowed evil to slip through the cracks.Human laws cannot fix a rotting world, Mikami thought, adjusting his glasses as he turned a corner into a quieter, dimly lit wing of the building.