The capital's central court building was a massive stone hall built to judge criminals from across the continent.
Today, the room was unusually loud.
A gang called Sanctuary had recently been captured.
Hundreds of people connected to the organization were being processed for trial.
The judges were exhausted.
There were too many criminals.
Too many cases.
They had begun rushing through the hearings.
"Next prisoner," one judge said impatiently.
Chains clattered as guards pushed the next defendant forward.
The room suddenly went silent.
Everyone in the courtroom turned.
Gasps spread across the hall.
The woman standing in chains looked nothing like the criminals before her.
She was beautiful.
Not ordinary beauty.
Her figure was slender and elegant. Her skin looked smooth and pale under the court lights.
Even with prison clothes and shackles, she looked almost like a noble lady.
Some stared, strangely drawn to her smooth, bare skin, so smooth it almost looked fragile.
Others felt a quiet unease crawl up their spine.
Skin without fur…
It didn't look natural.It looked wrong.
Some whispered.
Her eyes.
No fear.
No anger.
No hope.
Just quiet.
The head judge frowned.
"State the charges."
The prosecutor stepped forward.
"Illegal prostitution and cooperation with the criminal organization Sanctuary."
Murmurs spread again.
The judge looked at the woman carefully.
"What a waste," he muttered.
Just as he raised his hand to continue—
"Objection."
The word echoed through the courtroom.
A thin man stepped forward from the side benches.
He wore a worn suit that looked too big for his frail frame.
His glasses slid slightly down his nose.
The judge looked annoyed.
"Why does a Sanctuary criminal have a lawyer?"
The man bowed politely.
"She is not a member of Sanctuary."
The judge raised an eyebrow.
"Then why represent her?"
"I volunteered."
The prosecutor laughed mockingly.
"She was registered as Murk nine years ago."
The lawyer shook his head slowly.
"That record is incorrect."
The courtroom fell quiet.
The judge leaned forward.
"Explain."
The lawyer took a deep breath.
"I have spent years searching for evidence that this race still exists."
He pointed toward the woman.
"She is a human."
The entire courtroom erupted.
"Impossible!"
"Humans are extinct!"
The prosecutor slammed his desk.
"Her civil record clearly lists her as Murk!"
The lawyer nodded calmly.
"Yes."
"But the slave trader who sold her has now confirmed otherwise."
Silence fell again.
"She was sold as a human child."
The lawyer continued.
"Observe her body carefully."
"No fur."
"No scales."
"No racial traits."
"In fact… she shows none of the defects common to Murk."
His voice trembled slightly.
"By order of the High Races, we must study this woman as a human subject. Even if the probability is only one percent, it is still our duty to pursue it."
The judges exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally the head judge spoke.
"…Execution request denied."
The hammer struck.
After the Trial
The courtroom slowly emptied.
The woman stood quietly near the exit.
The thin lawyer approached her.
Relief filled his face.
"We did it."
He smiled nervously.
"You're free now."
He hesitated for a moment.
"From now on… you should have a proper name."
He adjusted his glasses.
"Your former owner called you Aria, didn't he?"
The woman remained silent.
For someone who had lived most of her life as property, a name had never meant much.
But the man smiled gently.
"Aria."
"It's a beautiful name."
Aria remained quiet.
Inside her mind, a faint thought appeared.
Then what now…?
I have nothing.
Her eyes lowered slightly.
My child.
A memory surfaced.
A tiny hand gripping her finger.
A newborn baby wrapped in cloth.
At that moment, Aria's thoughts returned to her daughter.
She saw the memory again—the moment they took her away.
Her tiny hand, so fragile it seemed it could break from the gentlest touch, was still clutching Aria's finger as they pulled her away.
I will find her. No matter what.
"Aria… I promise."
The lawyer's voice trembled, as if he was barely holding something back.
For the first time, Aria looked directly at him.
His gaze was lowered toward the ground, and the horns on his head—shaped like a crown—made him appear as though he were kneeling before her.
Aria didn't know what to do.
She simply stood there, helpless.
For the first time in her life, Aria felt genuine concern for someone she had just met.
A faint emotion flickered inside her empty eyes.
Hope.
Or perhaps something even more fragile than hope.