After Nujah and Naraka left, the silence in Mitra's cell grew heavier by the second.
He sat against the cold stone wall, already restless.
The stillness was unbearable. His energy was low, time felt frozen — and even though he wanted to escape, he never once considered it.
Then, suddenly, the cell door creaked open.
A soldier stepped in, unrolled a scroll, and read aloud:
> "Is Mitra, son of Nujah, present?"
Mitra blinked, confused.
"…Yes?" he answered cautiously.
> "You have a delivery. Seven packages, all sent by Nujah."
The soldier entered and placed seven boxes on the ground, arranged from largest to smallest.
Before leaving, he added bluntly:
> "He said: 'Instead of sulking, let him work. Improve himself. Nobody likes someone who sits around doing nothing.'"
Mitra squinted slightly, a mix of offense and sadness crossing his face.
"…Understood. You can go."
Once the door closed, Mitra looked down at the boxes.
On top of them all was a single note, scrawled in familiar handwriting:
> "Open each one in time — and in order.
With love,
Big Bear."
A small smile broke through Mitra's tired expression.
He reached for the first box.
Inside was a thick book.
Bold letters on the cover read:
> "Who Is Guilty?"
Flipping it open, he found simplified, gamified trial records — all from Shiora's history.
They were written as if for puzzles, cases to solve. Not too complex, but enough to keep the mind busy.
For the next three days, Mitra did nothing else but solve them — one after the other.
He didn't even touch the other boxes.
Then… he reached the final page.
---
📘 Final Trial – Who Is Guilty?
Case File:
Two strangers visited an old woman living alone on a mountain slope — on different days.
To both of them, the old woman offered the same thing: hot soup and dry bread.
The first guest told stories, finished his food, and thanked her before leaving.
The second guest also ate, but when he saw her asleep, he stole her valuables. Before leaving, he placed a single red rose on the table — a gift the first guest had brought earlier.
When the woman woke up, her home was empty — except for that single rose.
In court, both men denied knowing each other. Both claimed to be innocent.
Question:
Who is guilty — and why?
---
Mitra stared at the question, eyebrows furrowed.
At first, he suspected the second guest — but then something tugged at his mind.
What if… the first guest had set a trap?
Planted the rose… to frame the other?
Then — a voice behind him whispered:
> "You're thinking the right way."
Mitra yelped and fell off the bench like a startled cat.
"Could you at least knock first!?" he snapped.
Nujah was already grinning, arms crossed.
> "If surprising my own daughter is a crime, then call me guiltier than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," he laughed.
Mitra scowled, but part of her couldn't help smiling.
"I saw that smirk," Nujah teased.
"You're not fooling anyone."
"I wasn't smiling," she muttered, turning her face.
In a flash, Nujah swept her into a hug and spun her gently.
"Put me down!" she shouted.
"I'm serious!"
He eventually let her go, and Mitra stumbled a little, dizzy but unharmed.
Nujah plopped down on the cot and picked up the book, flipping through it carefully.
> "So… you solved them all?"
Mitra sat beside him. "All except the last one."
"Why not?" he asked, not accusing — just curious.
Mitra's eyes dropped. "You know why."
"That's not a reason," Nujah replied firmly.
He turned to face her and said:
> "You get one question. One real reward — for getting all those trials right.
So make it count."
Mitra's crimson eyes flickered like stars as she went deep into thought.
---