Draksan's Plea
“Nonsense, my friend. To the man about to become director? Haven’t you heard the news?”
“I have. Your inauguration is in a week, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Will you come?”
I studied Justin for a moment.
“I’ll decide after I hear what you have to say today.”
“Fair enough.”
Justin fiddled with the coffee grinder.
“Care for a cup?”
“No, thank you.”
He clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“If you won’t drink, I can’t force you.”
“Then please explain. What do you mean by asking me to hide the fact that Draksan is my patient?”
“You treated him, so you must know what happened to him.”
“If you mean the incident… you’re referring to the Beast Tamer case.”
“Exactly.”
Draksan’s wife had been murdered.
It happened on the day he left to hunt beasts in the Demon Realm at the kingdom’s request.
The culprit—Hadler—broke into their home while Draksan was away, bringing one of the beasts he had tamed.
He killed Draksan’s wife. According to the autopsy… he had her eaten alive.
The coroners agreed it was less an act of murder and more one of torture.
Their daughter survived, but fell into a coma. The shock of watching her mother die in such a horrific way had stolen her consciousness.
Without a miracle, she would never wake again.
“One of our investigators, Naikle, caught the bastard.”
The culprit was apprehended by the Public Safety Bureau soon after. He was a mage. The investigation revealed he was a serial killer who had already murdered four others, all targeting barbarians and their families.
His motive was “cleansing.” Hadler believed that killing barbarians—the supposed cancer of society—would purify the world. That was why Draksan’s family had been targeted.
Because Draksan was a barbarian.
After his arrest, Hadler earned the nickname “Beast Tamer.” Some called him the “Barbarian Slayer” instead.
The court sentenced him to life imprisonment.
The problem was that it was life imprisonment, not death.
The killer was still alive.
His wife had died in agony. His daughter remained in a coma. Yet the man who caused it all lived on, eating the kingdom’s food, perfectly healthy… and even eligible for parole someday.
Draksan couldn’t accept that.
—I never should have gone on that hunt. What kind of hunter am I if I can’t even protect my own family…
—I should have killed him. Before he reached prison! Even in the courtroom, I could have thrown my axe and ended him. Why did I hesitate? Why?
I still remembered those words from the early days when Draksan first came to the office. He had been drowning in regret and self-blame, slowly losing his mind.
“That was when his intermittent explosive disorder began. He started visiting our office after that.”
“Intermittent explosive disorder… the condition where someone can’t control their anger?”
“Yes. This assault is deeply connected to that illness. Draksan isn’t the kind of man who would beat people senseless while in his right mind.”
“Not many people beat others while in their right mind. Especially these days.”
“Is that why you called me here? To tell me this?”
Justin looked at me and straightened his posture. He took a sip of coffee, then let out a long breath.
“I saw you participate in that military trial the other day. The famous fire mage from the kingdom… what was his name again?”
“Berian.”
“Right. Berian. I was curious, so I looked into the full context of his case. He killed quite a few people, yet he only received exile.”
“There was a reason for that verdict—”
“Of course. I’m sure there were circumstances I don’t know about. Berian is a powerful mage, and the Demon Realm Defense Force is short on personnel. Especially mages.”
Justin had guessed the hidden details with surprising accuracy.
“So instead of locking him up for treason, it was better to send him to the Demon Realm Defense Force. It benefited everyone.”
“……”
“What caught my attention about that verdict was the justification. No matter how mutually beneficial it was, without proper justification, such a sentence couldn’t have been handed down.”
Justin took another sip, then pointed at me with his cup.
“You provided that justification. More precisely, the conversations and counseling records between you and Berian became an excellent justification.”
I didn’t respond. I understood exactly where he was going.
“This time, Draksan assaulted three of our fine investigators. One of them suffered injuries so severe that returning to duty will be difficult. Normally, he’d deserve over twenty years, but if you lend your support, we could reduce it to three years, eighteen months, or even a suspended sentence.”
“That’s…”
“It’s possible. After all, he’s the hero who saved Sawhin Village.”
He was right.
Draksan had beaten three investigators, but he had also saved Sawhin Village. The kingdom always needed powerful hunters to slay beasts. Just as Berian had escaped execution through exile, Draksan could receive similar leniency—if we wove together his tragic past as a victim of the Beast Tamer and his intermittent explosive disorder.
Justin turned to face me. His eyes shone with an intensity that somehow looked both terrifying and strangely weary.
“I don’t want you to do that. Please.”
“But—”
I steadied my breath.
“Draksan’s assault was committed while he lost control due to his intermittent explosive disorder. You know that as well as I do. We can’t hide it.”
Justin lowered his gaze, lost in thought. It seemed he was choosing his words carefully.
“Listen carefully, Counselor Kain. I know full well that Draksan lost control because of his disorder and committed assault.”
“Then why are you saying this?”
“Because I know. That’s exactly why he needs to stay in prison. If we release someone who can’t control their anger back into society, what do you think will happen? And he’s a barbarian, no less.”
I let my displeasure show.
“What does being a barbarian have to do with anything?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m saying we shouldn’t ignore the differences between races.”
“It was proven over fifty years ago that barbarians are no different from ordinary humans! What differences are you talking about?”
Originally, barbarians had been treated as a completely separate race, like elves and humans. But through advances in magical engineering and various incidents, it had been established that barbarians were simply larger and stronger humans—nothing more. Their unique mana signatures, once thought to be racial markers, were identical to those of humans.
These days, the term “barbarian” was rarely used at all. They were simply called “humans.”
Only those who insisted on drawing distinctions still used “barbarian race.”
It was just like how, in my previous life, Black people had been treated as little more than animals until years of resistance finally earned them recognition as a race.
“It’s true that there are personality differences between ordinary humans and barbarians. It’s also true that many barbarians struggle to control their anger. That’s hard to dismiss as mere coincidence, don’t you think?”
“That’s… merely a minor genetic difference.”
I rubbed my eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion. After taking a deep breath, I continued.
“I acknowledge there are differences. But Draksan is remarkably gentle for a barbarian. He developed intermittent explosive disorder after a severe trauma, but it can be treated. Given enough time.”
“I know he’s more reasonable than most barbarians. That’s why he came to you for treatment.”
“Then why—!”
“This isn’t about whether it can be treated or not.”
Justin cut me off sharply.
“What I’m saying is that we can’t set a precedent.”
“A precedent? What do you mean?”
“To reduce Draksan’s sentence, we’d have to bring up his mental illness. We’d also have to explain his tragic story in detail.”
If we wanted leniency, that would likely be necessary. Draksan’s heartbreaking past could sway the public and the jury.
“The problem comes after. Everyone has a story. And mental illness has no clear, objective standard. If we start granting reduced sentences based on tragic stories and mental illness, criminals will exploit it later.”
“As you know, I have the ability to detect lies. I can distinguish between those who genuinely have a mental illness and those who are trying to exploit one for a reduced sentence.”
“You’re not the only doctor in the world.”
“I’m the only one in the Kingdom of Lumentea who deals with mental health.”
“For now. But what if someone else opens a counseling office?”
I fell silent. I couldn’t ignore that possibility.
Justin’s eyes gleamed as he pressed on.
“What if some quack with nothing but a medical license opens an office just like yours and starts handing out get-out-of-jail-free cards to criminals? What then?”
“Surely that wouldn’t—”
“Can you guarantee it won’t happen?”
There was no guarantee.
In fact, it was far more likely. Humans had always been clever at finding and exploiting loopholes in laws and systems—both in my previous life and this one.
“It’s too dangerous. Releasing someone who can’t control their anger back into society, granting reduced sentences based on tragic stories and mental illness… We can’t set these precedents. Once we do, there’s no going back.”
I suddenly thought of my previous life, where reduced sentences for mental illness had been commonplace. Had there been no side effects?
No—there had been far too many. Countless people who committed serious crimes pretended to have mental illnesses to receive leniency, and in the process, those who truly needed help suffered.
“Counselor Kain, please listen to me.”
I felt sorry for Draksan. He had lost his family and been unable to take revenge with his own hands. His grief had turned into uncontrollable rage, and that rage had driven him slowly insane.
His life was already hell. Did we really have to lock him away in prison? Did we have to make him suffer even more?
But…
Justin’s words were persuasive too. If we set this precedent, someone would surely exploit it. And even I couldn’t guarantee what might happen if Draksan were released back into society.
My head throbbed.
* * *
I went to the detention center where Draksan was being held. I hadn’t applied for a visit in advance, but thanks to Justin’s consideration, I was able to see him without waiting.
When I met him, his hands and feet were bound, and he wore something resembling a collar—likely an electrified restraint created through magical means.
They must have put it on him to prevent escape.
If Draksan decided to run, stopping him wouldn’t be easy.
Just as Justin had said, he was a “barbarian,” after all.
“Counselor.”
Draksan’s voice was calm as he called out to me.
His eyes were dark, perhaps from tears, but the gaze he fixed on me was steady.
He looks like he’s made some kind of decision…
But it didn’t feel like a positive one.
As if to confirm my suspicion, Draksan spoke with a resolute expression.
“Counselor, I’ve thought about this for a long time before making my decision.”
“Yes. Please tell me.”
“I want you to let me go to prison.”
What was he saying?