Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Judger III
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Shin Noah
5
Before civilization collapsed, people would half-jokingly say things like this.
“Ugh, come on. What kind of verdict is that?”
“We’d be better off just leaving it all to AI!”
Of course, the other half of that statement contained a serious truth: an artificial intelligence made of steel and code would surely be more impartial than Homo sapiens, who were always tangled up in various interests.
Now that AI judges had made their nationwide debut, one might think people could cheer, “Wow! The era of law where verdicts are absolutely unbiased!”
Naturally, though, the world didn’t turn that simply.
[Verdict. The defendant is sentenced to life imprisonment.]
“What?”
“He killed someone, but no death penalty?”
“Why on earth can’t we just kill the criminal?”
People were baffled.
Since no update patches had been applied after civilization’s fall, the AI judge’s verdicts inevitably tasted bland to modern humanity, who had adapted to the apocalypse.
[Verdict. The defendant is sentenced to three months’ imprisonment.]
“What?”
“He dared to touch someone else’s property, but still no death penalty?”
“Why on earth can’t we just kill the criminal?”
From the start, the “imprisonment” sentences handed down by the AI judge were outdated relics from a bygone era.
Prisons? Where would you even find one of those?
Building walls sturdy enough not to collapse, installing iron bars, and even feeding, housing, and keeping prisoners alive? Did guards’ salaries fall free from the sky?
Yes. The AI judge was impartial.
But it was like the impartiality of a god—utterly useless unless it descended into reality.
“Hold on. Isn’t three months in prison about the same as one pinky finger?”
“Oh…….”
Thus, inevitably, a professional class was needed to “interpret” the “word of God.”
The role once played by shamans in ancient times and priests in the Middle Ages was now taken up by guild leaders—or their most trusted aides.
A guild leader who had achieved enough to claim an entire city could rightly be seen as the human closest to the god within that city.
“As expected of the Guild Leader. So what about six months in prison?”
“Hmm, that’s cutting off a forefinger. Of course, if the victim prefers, a toe works too.”
“What about one year in prison, Guild Leader?”
“From there, you could lop off a hand or a foot. Ah! But we don’t want to ruin their labor potential, so 50-50…… Like, three fingers from the perpetrator and two from their family, totaling five fingers as punishment.”
“Oh…….”
“As expected of the Guild Leader.”
If prisons were antiques, then guilt-by-association was the hot item every trendy guild wanted.
“What if they run out of fingers and toes?”
“Then kill them. Fuck. They were given 20 life points, and if they still can’t play the game, they just don’t fit it.”
“You’re right.”
“Exactly. Plus, if no friends or family step up to lose a finger in place of the criminal, no one’s gonna grieve if you kill them anyway. Just wipe them all out.”
“Ah…….”
The above is an edited, reader-friendly patchwork of statements from some guild leader in Incheon.
Interpretations by each city’s “shamans” varied wildly. While some cities, like Incheon, neatly equated all life stats to fingers and toes, others interpreted six months’ imprisonment as six months’ slavery, turning the perpetrator into the victim’s slave.
But precisely because of this, guild leaders gladly embraced the AI judge.
“Not bad at all.”
Dang Seo-rin lightly tapped the AI judge’s head.
“It’s much easier for a guild leader to say they’re just adding their interpretation to a judgment already made by someone perfectly impartial, rather than claiming they decided it all themselves—”
“Hmm.”
“The verdict itself isn’t wrong. It’s just lacking in how it applies to reality—that is, in the interpretation. So even if a small mistake happens, it doesn’t tarnish the guild leader’s face as much. Ah. Maybe this is why ancient rulers were also priests.”
Her words carried extra weight, befitting the guild leader ruling the Korean Peninsula’s top city.
In truth, Dang Seo-rin had merely tossed the AI judge to the general populace and never used it for her own judgments.
This wasn’t solely because she saw bearing even unnecessary responsibilities as a mark of leadership.
Dang Seo-rin was a self-proclaimed grand witch and a sorceress whose rule over Busan was…… unique. If one had to describe it, extremely “witch-like.” In the Busan she governed, a separate system called the “witch trial” operated.
But since today’s episode protagonist isn’t from the Dang family, we’ll cover that next time.
Truth be told, I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic or serious about introducing the AI judge either. I was just surprised by No Do-ha’s quirky idea.
As I already pointed out above, the AI judge’s verdicts were nothing but empty quotes from Confucius or Mencius, far removed from reality.
I, the Undertaker, had ambitions. One day, I aimed to create a legal system truly fitting for the apocalypse. From my perspective, the AI judge was just a clever invention—a defective product far below a regressor’s standards.
Yet it was precisely this flaw—“being too detached from reality”—that appealed not just to guild leaders but to ordinary people as well.
“Why not sentence them to death?”
[Response commencing. In modern legal studies and jurisprudence, discussions on the death penalty can be examined from various perspectives. The most compelling argument is that the government can never decide on citizens’ right to life. Citizens cede certain rights to the government via the social contract, but regarding the dignity of life, only the citizen themselves retains exclusive rights. The government is an artificial construct closer to a program, unable to independently judge matters not inputted to it.]
“Hmm…… In other words?”
[Lowering explanation’s intellectual level by 2 stages. Response changed. The government isn’t perfect. Incompetent judges, malicious evidence tampering, or forces plotting judicial murder for political gain can lead to errors anytime. Thus, it’s wiser to preemptively block the irreversible erasure of life itself.]
“Oh…… In other words?”
[Lowering explanation’s intellectual level by 6 stages. Response changed. Let’s just value life.]
Indeed, the AI judge refused to enforce the death penalty, just as it claimed.
“A serial killer who butchered two-year-old children for no reason.”
[Death penalty may be declared, but not executed in practice.]
“A spy and terrorist who bombed a public facility, killing three thousand people!”
[Death penalty may be declared, but not executed in practice.]
“Hitler!”
[Death penalty may be declared, but not executed in practice.]
“Fuck, not even this? Really?”
As things unfolded this way, Busan citizens (Dang Seo-rin had placed the judge NPC in the central square to toy with the common folk) were left dumbfounded. Just how far did it have to go to issue a death sentence?
“…This is ridiculous. You could just slit their throat and be done with it, but they’re going to all this trouble to avoid killing?”
“Hmm. But thinking about it, that’s how it felt before the world turned to shit. Even scumbags who deserved death just rotted in prison eating slop.”
“Yeah. That’s right. Back in the old days.”
“How did things change like this?”
“…….”
“…….”
The apocalypse’s survivors all missed the past.
They had charged forward without a moment to look back, and now, hearing the AI judge’s verdicts, the few who survived realized how far they had fled.
Yes. The world had changed. And they had changed too.
With just a brief pause to breathe, fully exterminating the Void and rebuilding civilization seemed a distant dream. Everyone in this era knew they were in humanity’s twilight years, deathbed imminent.
Nostalgia for a homeland they could never return to.
That’s why, in their rare free time (when miracles granted such luxury), people gathered in guild buildings to watch “pre-apocalypse movies” on large TVs.
It didn’t matter how boring the film was.
“Wow, the asphalt roads are so clean!”
“Cars are driving around!”
“Crazy. They drink coffee like it’s water.”
“Why not kill the guy after a shoulder bash?”
For them, footage from the old era was a means to briefly recall humanity’s glorious past.
You could tell from their posture watching TV. They didn’t sit neatly in rows, staring straight ahead. They huddled together, cracking peanut shells, sneaking side glances, and chattering loudly about the “rare treasures” on screen.
“Hot water comes right out at home? Bottled water with just a button? Wow…….”
“But why do they all look so dissatisfied? It’s paradise.”
“Always bellyaching. They need their scalps peeled off by monsters to wise up. Hey, this won’t crack. Pass the hammer.”
That was roughly the modern self-portrait.
Thus, the AI judge’s “unrealistic verdicts” started as mere toys but gradually took on a different hue over time.
[Verdict. Defendant B shall compensate Plaintiff A with 1 million won.]
“Fine? Hold on, I’ll prepare it within a week.”
“Huh?”
Some people began accepting the AI’s verdicts as is.
In this world, money was less currency and more talisman. A charm reminding them of their days as members of civilized society.
Amassing 1 million won worth of such talismans was incredibly difficult.
Yet one citizen scraped together 50,000-won notes, 10,000-won notes, 5,000-won notes, 1,000-won notes—whatever they could find—and truly handed 1 million won to the defendant.
“Now we’re even?”
“Y-Yeah…….”
“Good. Sorry for disrupting your business. Consider us square.”
Shockingly, the apology from this citizen was accepted.
Money that held no meaning beyond its talismanic value, impossible to exchange for goods—completely stripped of economic worth—was recognized as atonement for wrongdoing.
From this coincidental incident, more and more citizens began voluntarily following the AI’s verdicts.
Of course, for serious injuries or life-threatening cases, people didn’t rely on the AI judge.
But for minor disputes—not worth killing over—people willingly submitted to the “verdicts of the distant past,” the justice from when the world was still intact.
“Here’s 3 million won.”
“Let’s get along from now on. Sort of.”
Even the newest bills, over ten years old and crumpled from heavy use, were exchanged with utmost care.
From afar, it looked less like law enforcement and more like a religious rite.
A ritual to reaffirm and certify to each other that they once belonged to a world long perished.
Proof of shared membership in the same society.
What to call it? In typical apocalypse tales, currency instantly became trash upon collapse, but reality diverged quite a bit.
“…I really didn’t see this coming.”
I felt psychologically punched for a moment.
Not a bad feeling, though. Even in a ruined world, it confirmed most people still lived with nostalgia.
Even after the 109th regression, I kept the “AI judges” around.
Even if useless judicially, if they helped remind people of their “humanity” in this era, that held its own meaning, didn’t it?
“Judge.”
[Yes.]
“There’s this infinite regressor who abandons his comrades to fool around alone with his wife, shirking his duties like some old fart. Thanks to him, the lone comrade’s busting their ass trying to save the world. What verdict fits such a shameless regressor?”
[Verdict. Not guilty.]
“…….”
Humanity my ass.
AI just didn’t get the human heart.
- Judger. End.