The beams hung like guillotines, freezing the air with a cold, surgical precision.
Shen Yan stood in the heart of the courtroom, unarmed — yet wielding the most dangerous weapon of all: a choice.
He stepped forward, toward the first defendant.
[Subject ①]: Female, 32, kindergarten teacher.
Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes. Her lips trembled as she spoke, her voice a hush of disbelief.
"I didn't do anything. I'm a teacher. I just… teach kids. Why am I here?"
Shen Yan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at her face — not looking for guilt, but for fracture.
"You ever hated a child?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked, taken aback.
"Of course not. They're just… kids. Angels."
"You cried earlier," he said softly. "When you looked at Subject ③. There was rage in your eyes."
Her head lowered. Silence.
Shen Yan said nothing more. He moved on.
[Subject ②]: Male, 47, ex-priest. Removed from the church due to an affair.
"Do you think you deserved your exile?" Shen Yan asked.
The man chuckled, a hollow sound like leaves rustling over a grave.
"I used to believe in God. But on the darkest nights, I found no one listening to my confessions."
"Do you regret it?"
"Every day," he murmured. "But… I also know this: if given another chance, I'd still choose her."
Shen Yan flinched. It was honest. Perhaps too honest. Sometimes, deep regrets bloom into deeper sins — when one refuses to let go of what poisoned them.
He moved through Subject ③, ④… until he stopped at Subject ⑦.
[Subject ⑦]: Male, 21, silent, emotionally numb.
"What's your name?" Shen Yan asked.
"No name."
"You refuse to identify?"
"No point," he replied coldly. "You're not looking for a person. You're looking for a sacrifice."
Shen Yan frowned.
This one was different. He didn't beg. Didn't plead. He didn't want to be saved.
"What happened to you?" Shen asked.
The man's eyes lifted. They were empty.
"When I was eight, the police raided our house. Said my father was a murderer. He wasn't. No one listened."
Shen Yan's chest tightened.
For a brief second, he saw himself — ten years old, standing on the other side of that story.
——
[Flashback: Shen Yan's Memory]
"My dad didn't kill anyone!"
Shen Yan's voice cracked with grief.
Across the glass wall of the prison visitation room, his father looked skeletal, almost ghostly.
"Listen to me," his father said quietly. "This world doesn't care about truth. It only cares about verdicts."
"Then I'll grow up and believe the truth."
"No," his father whispered. "Grow up… and survive."
Shen Yan didn't understand then.
But he would. Years later, he'd learn:
To survive means you must choose.
And every choice… betrays something.
——
Back in the courtroom, Shen Yan's voice came out rough:
"Do you want me to choose you?"
Subject ⑦ tilted his head.
"You're already choosing. You just want a reason to sleep at night."
A mechanical chime echoed.
[Time remaining: 1 hour 46 minutes]
There were still more souls to interrogate. Still more questions without answers. But Shen Yan now knew:
This wasn't a trial of the twelve.
It was a trial of himself.