The walk from the basement holding cells to Courtroom 302 felt like marching to my own execution.
My cheap leather shoes scuffed against the polished marble floor of the Seoul Central District Court. The air conditioning was blasted on high, chilling the nervous sweat that clung to my back, but I couldn't stop wiping my damp palms on my trousers.
In the upper right corner of my vision, the blue translucent text remained fixed, a cruel, glowing tombstone.
[Victory Probability: 0%]
I had the truth. Lee Ji-Won was guilty. In any normal scenario, a swift guilty plea for a nineteen-year-old first-time major offender facing extreme poverty would open the door for a suspended sentence. I could throw her on the mercy of the court, cite the threatening text message from her landlord, and get her community service.
So why did the system still say zero?
I pushed through the heavy, oak double doors of Courtroom 302. The scent of lemon floor wax and old, dusty paper hit the back of my throat. It was a standard district courtroom: stark, intimidating, and devoid of any natural light. Rows of empty wooden benches filled the gallery behind the railing.
I took my seat at the defense table. The wood felt cold and hard under my fingertips. I opened my battered briefcase and pulled out my meager file. A single police report. Three blurry CCTV photos.
A sharp, rhythmic clicking echoed from the prosecutor's table across the aisle.
Prosecutor Han Seo-Young sat perfectly upright, casually flipping through a thick stack of pristine, color-coded files. Her burgundy suit looked flawless under the harsh fluorescent lights. She didn't look up when I sat down. She didn't need to. She emanated an aura of absolute control.
The heavy side door near the judge's bench clicked open. Two bailiffs walked in, leading Lee Ji-Won.
The metallic clink of her handcuffs sounded violently loud in the quiet room. She looked even smaller than she had in the interrogation room. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes glued to the floor tiles. The oversized green detention uniform swallowed her. When she sat down next to me, I could smell the bitter tang of her unwashed hair and the sharp scent of raw fear.
She didn't look at me. Her hands shook uncontrollably in her lap.
"All rise," the court clerk droned, his voice flat and bored.
Judge Yoo Sung-Min walked in. He was a man in his late fifties with thinning grey hair, heavy jowls, and a permanent frown etched deeply into his face. He moved slowly, settling into his high-backed leather chair with a heavy sigh that amplified through his microphone.
The moment the judge sat down, my vision flared. The blue panel expanded over the bench.
[Judge Bias Analysis Complete]
[Name: Yoo Sung-Min]
[Profile: Strict constructionist. Zero tolerance for repeat offenders. Highly susceptible to prosecution framing.]
[Initial Sympathy Level: 12%]
My stomach plummeted. Twelve percent. We hadn't even started, and he already hated us.
"Case number 2026-CR-409. State versus Lee Ji-Won," Judge Yoo muttered, adjusting his thin metal-rimmed glasses. "Charge is petty theft. Are both parties ready?"
"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Han Seo-Young said. Her voice was smooth, confident, and projected perfectly across the room.
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and stood up. My knees felt hollow. "The defense is ready, Your Honor."
"Proceed."
I took a deep breath. My chest ached. I had to end this quickly, before Han could start weaving her narrative.
"Your Honor," I started, trying to inject a steady resonance into my voice. "After consulting with my client, the defense wishes to enter a change of plea. We plead guilty to the charge of petty theft."
A low murmur rippled from the clerk's desk. Beside me, Ji-Won let out a shaky breath, her head dropping even lower.
Judge Yoo raised a single, bushy eyebrow. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. "A guilty plea. Very well. Proceed to sentencing recommendations."
"Your Honor, we ask the court for extreme leniency and a suspended sentence," I said quickly, gripping the edges of the podium. "The defendant is only nineteen. She has no adult criminal record. She committed this act under severe financial duress. Two hours prior to the incident, her landlord threatened to forcibly evict her onto the street if she did not produce five hundred thousand won. The exact amount taken. She acted out of desperate survival, not malice. Jail time would only destroy a young life that can still be rehabilitated."
The blue text in my eye flickered.
[Debate Mode Activated]
[Speech Clarity +15%]
[Judge Approval +3%]
[Audience Sympathy Rising]
A tiny spark of hope ignited in my chest. Three percent wasn't much, but it was movement. The logic was sound. I was appealing to his humanity.
"Is that so, Attorney Jin?"
Han Seo-Young stood up. She didn't walk to the podium. She simply stepped out from behind her desk, moving into the open space of the floor. She looked relaxed. Too relaxed.
"The prosecution strongly objects to any form of leniency," Han stated, her voice slicing through the heavy air like a scalpel. "The defense paints a touching picture of a desperate child. But the facts paint the picture of a calculating, habitual criminal."
She picked up a single sheet of paper.
"The defendant has two juvenile convictions for shoplifting. She knows the system. She wore an oversized, unidentifiable hoodie to obscure her face. She waited until the exact moment the convenience store clerk turned his back to stock cigarettes. This wasn't a crime of panic, Your Honor. This was a premeditated strike."
[Opponent Argument Active]
[Judge Approval -8%]