The courtroom was dense with tension. Every eye in the room was focused on the chilling images of Cha Minjeong's battered body, projected on the screen. The once-beautiful woman had been reduced to a mere shadow of herself, her face swollen and bruised from months of abuse at the hands of her boyfriend, Moon Jeongjun. The gasps from the gallery were sharp, but the silence that followed was even more deafening.

Bitna, seated at the judge's bench, kept her face neutral. As the judge, she had the power to sway the outcome, but she did not reveal the slightest emotion as the prosecutor called for a strict sentence. Yet, when she spoke, her voice rang out, final and cold.

"Moon Jeongjun is fined. This court is adjourned."

The room erupted into chaos. Murmurs, cries of disbelief, and outraged voices filled the space. A fine? A man who had brutalized a woman to this extent was only to pay a fine? It was absurd. It was injustice.

Daon's hand slammed into the armrest of his chair, his fists clenching as rage pulsed through him.

"This is wrong!" he shouted, standing abruptly.

"He deserves prison time—he deserves much worse! How can you—"

Bitna's gaze cut to him with surgical precision. Her eyes were sharp, devoid of any emotion. "Your opinion is noted," she said flatly, cutting him off with an icy calmness that matched her words.

"However, the law is not always about fairness. It's about what is needed to maintain control."

Daon's eyes narrowed, seething. How could she be so indifferent? How could she dismiss the suffering of an innocent woman so easily? But before he could respond, Bitna stood, signaling the end of the trial.

Outside the courtroom, Daon was still brimming with anger. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his mind still reeling from the injustice. He paced back and forth, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent hall.

Then, the door creaked open, and a figure appeared—Aera.

She stood in the doorway, her presence immediately filling the room. Aera was not someone Daon had seen before. Tall, slender, with a grace that was almost unnerving. She carried herself with an air of authority, her posture straight and unyielding. But it wasn't just her presence that was striking—it was the coldness in her eyes, the emptiness that flickered in her gaze.

Her eyes met Daon's, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to fade. There was no sympathy in her expression, no curiosity. Just cold, hard calculation. It was like she was reading him, judging him, and finding him lacking.

"What are you staring at?" Daon snapped, not bothering to hide his irritation. He was in no mood for games.

Aera didn't flinch. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a slight, almost mocking smile.

"I'm not staring," she said, her voice light, almost playful.

"I'm observing. There's a difference."

Daon's eyes flickered with confusion. "Observing?" he repeated, his fists still clenched.

"What, exactly, are you observing?"

Aera took a step closer to him, her heels clicking against the floor, each sound resonating with an eerie finality. "You're angry. That's obvious," she said, her voice like silk, smooth and deliberate.

"But you don't understand, do you? This... this trial was never about Minjeong. It was about control. About maintaining balance. The law is just a tool to keep things in line."

Daon blinked, taken aback. "You... think this is about balance?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"You think that man deserves to walk free because of some idea of balance?"

Aera's smile widened, a touch of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"You're predictable. So... righteous. So willing to fight for what's right, even if it's not your battle. But you'll never win. Because in the end, people like Jeongjun don't get punished by laws or courts. They get punished by something far more... permanent."

A chill ran down Daon's spine. He was starting to realize that Aera wasn't just an ordinary person. She didn't speak like anyone he knew. There was an edge to her words, an unsettling certainty. It was as though she knew something that he didn't, something that made her look at the world differently.

"What are you talking about?" Daon's voice had lost its edge, now laced with confusion.

Aera's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curling in a wry smile. "You wouldn't understand. Not yet."

Before Daon could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. It was Bitna—justitia herself—stepping into the hallway. She had been watching the exchange from a distance, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked from Daon to Aera, taking in their tense interaction.

"Everything all right here?" Bitna's voice was smooth, deceptively calm.

Daon turned to her, his frustration spilling over. "This whole thing—what just happened in there—it's wrong. You know it. He should be locked up, not let go with a fine."

Bitna met his gaze, her expression as impassive as ever.

"The law is not about what is fair" she said simply, as though explaining a child's lesson.

"It's about control. Maintaining order. If you understood that, maybe you'd see that this was the only choice."

Daon's jaw clenched. "I don't care about your rules. People like Jeongjun—" He glanced toward Aera, who still watched him with that unsettling gaze.

"They don't deserve to be free."

Aera stepped forward, her voice cutting in with a soft laugh. "Justice isn't always about what people deserve. Sometimes, it's about what they fear. And trust me, Jeongjun is going to learn that very soon."

Bitna's gaze shifted to Aera, a slight tension in the air between them. But then, just as quickly, she returned her attention to Daon.

"I think you should leave. It's clear you're not in a state to see reason." She gave him a cold smile, one that held no warmth.

"If you're still interested in justice, I suggest you stop looking for it in places that can't provide it." Daon glared at her, but said nothing. Instead, he turned sharply and left, the door closing behind him with a thud.

Aera watched him go, then turned her eyes back to Bitna.

"What's his deal?"

Bitna's lips curled into a small, amused smile.

"He's someone who thinks he can change the world. A hopeless dreamer."

Aera raised an eyebrow. "How boring."

As the silence fell between them, Bitna's expression shifted—just the tiniest hint of something darker in her gaze.

"Don't underestimate him. He might surprise you."

Aera smirked, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I'm counting on it."