6. The Reversal Opening Ceremony (18)
6. The Reversal Opening Ceremony (18)
Three charges were brought in this case.
Threatening and assaulting the performer Yvonne.
Murdering the performer Antoine.
Abducting, imprisoning, exploiting, and murdering three minors.
—Abducting and imprisoning minors? Exploitation?
—When they just said "serial killer," it was this vague, abstract evil...
—Hearing it spelled out like this is... I don't know if the Viscountess stepping in was a good idea anymore.
[Circus Troupe Fame has decreased by 2.]
[Current Circus Troupe Fame: 13]
The moment the exact charges were read aloud, the gazes fixed on Wonderstein darkened once more.
It was only thanks to Anais having already managed public sentiment and guided the case to trial that the damage stopped here. Had she not intervened, the quest might well have registered a failure the instant the judge finished reading the list.
The spectators on the defendant's side recovered their composure quickly enough.
Whatever happened next, they had no choice but to trust the Viscountess and watch the trial unfold.
Baron Dosville clicked his tongue, disappointed that the crowd's reaction had cooled so quickly. By his original design, public opinion ought to have flipped the moment the charges were announced.
"Prosecutor, please summarize the case."
"Yes."
Baron Dosville strode to the center of the stage. He composed himself and began his account.
"This case stretches back a decade."
His rhetorical skill lived up to its reputation. He painted the events so vividly you would think he had been present for every one of them.
Strange accidents that interrupted rehearsals.
Rumors of a Ghost glimpsed throughout the cabaret building.
Young women who vanished, one every two or three years.
A threatening letter and an assault aimed at the lead actress.
A murder committed in the middle of a performance.
At last, the secret underground chamber uncovered.
And inside it, the bodies of all the missing girls.
His somber, portentous delivery amplified the tragedy and horror to the fullest. Even those already familiar with the case found their fury toward the culprit boiling up as they listened.
"But here is what I find remarkable."
He drove the narrative to a peak of dread—then changed direction. He turned his sights on the people of the cabaret.
He emphasized just how abysmally the theater had handled the affair.
The owner's hasty conclusion that "she probably eloped with some fellow."
The director's callous obstinacy in pushing ahead with the show even after a performer was attacked.
The proprietor's cold-blooded decision to quietly sweep the whole matter under the rug.
He cherry-picked every point the theater could not easily explain away and turned them into a blistering indictment.
His clever rhetoric piled up a mountain of negative emotion against the criminal, then deftly deflected it all onto the cabaret's own people. It worked beautifully.
Condemnation of the Rose Windmill Cabaret erupted from the prosecutor's gallery. From the defendant's gallery, too, came reproachful murmurs—why had they handled things that way and created this disaster?
Anais kept a composed little smile fixed on her face despite Baron Dosville's verbal assault, but her composure was a mask. She had already grasped why he was attacking the Rose Windmill people in particular.
If those people kept being publicly blamed, they would start thinking one thing:
—The Ghost did it... He's the villain. So why are we the ones taking the blame?
Anger at being treated unfairly. That anger would naturally be redirected at the man currently seated as the suspect—Wonderstein.
Baron Dosville's move was meant to wound Marquis Mustang's honor and, at the same time, drive a wedge between him and Anais.
"I find it incomprehensible that the Rose Windmill people are seated in the defendant's gallery! The murdered girls—weren't they your own people? Tsk, tsk. So eager to bury your own scandal... Goodness, I'm embarrassed for you in front of our foreign guests."
He pressed a hand to his brow and shook his head theatrically. The faces of the Rose Windmill contingent curdled. In a stroke, they had been cast as self-serving little people with no loyalty to their colleagues.
With a few words, he had reshuffled the entire alignment of the room. He was, as ever, a formidable opponent.
—It is strange, when you think about it. The victims were all from the Windmill, weren't they? Why are they siding with the culprit?
—Marquis Mustang is going too far. So his honor matters more than uncovering the truth?
—I'm not sure sitting over here was the right call...
A rift opened among the defendant's spectators. Baron Dosville allowed himself a look of smug satisfaction.
As the commotion grew, the judge swung his gavel.
Bang. Bang.
"Order! Order! This is a court! And Prosecutor, I must ask you to refrain from remarks not pertinent to the case."
"My apologies. When I think of those victims rotting in that cold cellar, their behavior fills me with such indignation..."
"Prosecutor!"
"...I shall leave it there, then."
Baron Dosville heaved a deep, wounded sigh, like a man truly anguished and outraged, and retreated.
[Circus Troupe Fame has decreased by 3.]
[Current Circus Troupe Fame: 10]
Public opinion had swung. The gaze the audience directed at the court grew noticeably colder.
The prosecutor's side, digging for the truth on behalf of the victims. The defendant's side, scrambling to cover things up. In the space of a few minutes, the scales of justice had tipped the other way.
Anais's ploy to reframe the trial as a political scheme had failed. Nor could she attempt it again. Baron Dosville would seize on it instantly and hurl accusations like:
—Four people are dead!
—Instead of uncovering the truth, you criticize the other side for filing charges?!
—Is this what the Marquis Mustang and Viscountess Bergson stand for? Protecting your own reputations above all else?
The political skirmish had reached an equilibrium. Now only the clean, open contest of law remained.
Anais rapidly condensed the facts in her mind. Baron Dosville's narrative had been loaded with emotional elements meant to incite. She stripped those out, distilling the testimony down to a dry summary of verified facts, and committed that to memory.
[Character List]
—Anais Bergson (20): A charming defense attorney graced with both beauty and talent. That is, me.
—Frank Wonderstein (27): The man who cured my illness. I confessed; he turned me down.
—Ella (16): Deputy leader of the circus troupe. On the day of the incident, she served as a stage stand-in.
—Ghost (??): A strange figure who passes through walls. Lived in the cabaret basement and exploited the missing girls.
—Yvonne (19): The cabaret's lead singer. Received threats and was attacked by the Ghost.
—Antoine (42): The cabaret's lead actor. Killed when a light fixture fell from the ceiling.
—Sabo (22): A non-commissioned officer in the Mounted Police. Lead investigator on the Ghost case.
—Baron Dosville (29): Prosecutor for the case. Possesses exceptional rhetorical skill.
"Then let us begin the examination. Will the first witness please take the stand."
A neatly dressed middle-aged man emerged from among the Rose Windmill group. He was the manager who had overseen Hall 1 on the day of the incident.
His breathing was heavy; all the eyes trained on him clearly weighed on him. He had always been a safety-first man. He had been told this whole matter would be wrapped up with nothing more than a written statement at the police station—he'd never imagined he'd end up standing in a place like this.
After a swift self-introduction, Baron Dosville moved straight into his questioning.
"Please describe the events surrounding the death of the actor Antoine."
The manager gave a flat, matter-of-fact account of that day. A dull day in the dull life of a dull man—until the moment a murder turned it all riveting.
Baron Dosville let him speak without interruption, then stopped him at one particular point.
"One moment! So, at the time of the incident, there was no entry by any outsider—is that correct?"
"It is."
"What about the secret passage? It was discovered later, was it not? Could that not provide access to the cabaret?"
"We have confirmed that the passage leading into the performance hall connects to the 'step seats' used by our staff. Anyone entering that way must pass through that area. But the step seats are constantly busy with staff going back and forth. It would be impossible for someone to pass through unnoticed."
"Ah, I see. Then the culprit must have been someone inside the hall. Was anyone absent from their place when the incident occurred?"
"Every staff member has corroborated each other's alibis. The audience all remained in their seats. With a single exception."
At this, Baron Dosville behaved like a schoolboy who had just found the slip of paper with the first-place prize at a treasure hunt. He brandished a document high above his head and slapped it with emphasis, sweeping his gaze around the gallery.
"And who is this exception?"
"That man there."
The manager pointed at Wonderstein.
The crowd buzzed, trading murmurs and re-examining the testimony among themselves.
No sign of an outsider entering. No other route to reach the ceiling. The culprit had to be someone inside. And only one person had been absent from his place.
"Well, the conclusion arrives rather swiftly, doesn't it. As to who the culprit is?"
He spread his arms toward the prosecutor's side of the gallery. The spectators, convinced victory was theirs, shouted with relish.
—He's the murderer! That bastard's the murderer!
—The moment an unregistered person was named the suspect, this trial was already over!
—Kill him! Execute him!
—Filthy scum!
—Confess your crimes!
Amid the uproar, Wonderstein did not flinch. He kept a quiet smile fixed on Anais.
But the calm was only skin-deep. Inside, he was burning.
[Circus Troupe Fame has decreased by 7.]
[Current Circus Troupe Fame: 3]
With only 3 Fame remaining, he could not afford to speak a single word. If Baron Dosville accused him of shamelessly attempting to make excuses, his Fame could drop to zero.
He had to trust Anais here. He needed her to spot it—the "contradiction" buried in Baron Dosville's argument.
"Is there really any need to hear further testimony? Your Honor, I urge you to deliver your verdict at once."
The judge's brow furrowed at Baron Dosville's bluster. He knew perfectly well—as did the baron—that this much testimony alone was nowhere near enough to produce a ruling.
Yet the baron had thrown that out anyway, purely to draw cheers from the gallery. The judge disliked that.
Maintaining a composed demeanor, the judge addressed Anais.
"...We must hear the defense's view first. Counsel, do you wish to cross-examine this witness?"
"Is there really anything to cross-examine? The witness has stated nothing but plain, unmistakable facts..."
A smirk curled across Baron Dosville's face. He knew as well as anyone that this level of testimony wouldn't secure a conviction.
But this summary trial was, at its core, a political performance. A headline in tomorrow's paper reading, "The Sole Suspect: That Man Defended by Viscountess Bergson!"—that was more than enough.
Anais was quite certain tomorrow's paper would carry no such headline. She rose from her seat with a confident smile.
"The Baron's argument contains a contradiction."
At her words, Baron Dosville let out a derisive laugh.
"This is preposterous, Viscountess. Do you have a witness who contradicts what this manager has stated? Ha. Of course you don't. The police have already completed their entire investigation. No sign of outside entry. The defendant is the only person who was not at his place. There is no error in my argument. What grounds do you have for claiming my conclusion—that the defendant is the sole suspect—is a contradiction? Let's hear it."