When he stood up, there was no fear on his face—only a deep, exhausted weariness.
"My name is Han Cheng. I'm thirty-four. Office worker."
He spoke quickly, as if lingering too long would pull him back into a place he'd spent years trying to escape.
"What I did was wrong. But I don't regret it."
There was no defiance in his tone—just truth, unflinching and raw.
"I transferred to a private high school in my junior year. On day one, I was singled out.
They didn't like strangers. Outsiders."
"It started with name-calling. Then public shaming. Then—well. You can guess."
He paused. "Teachers knew. Parents knew. Nobody did anything."
"I endured for ten months. In those ten months, they apologized thirty-seven times."
"Written apologies. Public confessions. Formal statements read in class. But each time they 'repented,' what followed was worse."
"Then came graduation."
Han Cheng laughed, but it was the laugh of someone who forgot how.
"I didn't retaliate. I went to college. Got a job. Lived a 'normal' life. At least from the outside."
"Then last year, I saw one of them again—at a subway station. He had a kid. Around seven years old. About the age I was."
"I didn't plan anything. I just… followed him. Sent anonymous letters. Messages. Nothing violent."
"He got paranoid. His wife reported a stalker. He named me. I admitted it."
Shen Yan watched him, then asked quietly, "Do you regret it?"
Han Cheng shook his head. "I shouldn't have followed him. I accept that. But what I regret… is never fighting back when it mattered."
"Do you know what I really wanted to say to them?"
Shen Yan nodded.
"I wanted to say: 'I forgive you.' I really do."
"But I can't forgive a world that treats apologies as exit tickets."
The courtroom was silent. The kind of silence that echoes louder than any scream.
---
[Shen Yan's Memory Journal: Entry 06]
> "In middle school, someone stole my lunch."
I went home hungry. My mom scolded me for forgetting my lunch card.
I didn't explain. I just listened. Back then, I didn't know words could weigh so much.
Now I know—sometimes, silence is violence too.
---
Then the system voice came:
> "Defendant No. ③: Han Cheng.
Does his behavior constitute an Unforgivable Moral Crime?
Judge Shen Yan, state your verdict."
Shen Yan closed his eyes.
He saw thirty-seven apologies. He heard the unspoken truth—anger is not the enemy. Apathy is.
"I can't say what he did was right," Shen Yan finally said, "But I won't say he should've stayed silent forever."