The air in the **Court of the Beyond** was thick—thick with quiet, thick with power, thick with something Michael couldn't quite put his finger on. The grand courtroom went on forever, it seemed, as if space itself was warped to accommodate the otherworldly spectators lurking in the shadows. Runes pulsed on the dark walls, glowing in rich blues and silver, bathing the pillars that marched up the sides of the colossal hall.
In the center itself, there sat **Justice Arin**, with fog swirling around him. The man had a heavy aura of authority that was difficult to define, not quite revealed but not quite concealed either. It was a weight on Michael's chest to be there, but he still frowned as he rubbed his forehead.
"Okay, okay, let's back it up a bit," Michael spoke, his voice strange in the vast space. "One moment I'm having one too many and I'm acting like a complete idiot, and before I know it, I'm on what seems to be the **last level of a space role-playing game.**
Justice Arin's gold eyes blazed through the fog. "Your coming here was not by chance, Michael Yoon."
Michael folded his arms. "Yeah, because being pulled through a glowing portal and waking up in a courtroom full of floating eyeballs and dark figures really does sound like a normal Tuesday night."
A soft, gentle hum of conversation drifted through the courtroom. Some of the odd creatures watching him had tilted their heads and possessed uninterpretable faces. He thought he was watching something with wings talking to something with a horn.
Justice Arin didn't move. "This court needs a lawyer. A voice of reason. A defender of those who cannot defend themselves in life after death."
Michael snorted in derision harshly, not impressed at all. "And you're saying **I'm** that guy? Look, I like the space kidnapping and all, but I think you've got the wrong guy."
"The court never gets it wrong."
Michael snorted. "Yeah? Well, I do. Lots of them. Often. And although this whole arrangement is **fantastic**, I don't do charity work." He folded his arms. "Tell me—what's the **pay**?"
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Some of the ghostly apparitions in the crowd were shocked at his temerity. Others observed with discreet amusement.
Then, to Michael's surprise, **Justice Arin laughed.**
The sound was neither fully human nor inhuman—low and resonant, a whisper between planes. "You are bold, Michael Yoon. I expected no less."
Michael grinned. "And you can count on less than that if you're hoping I'm doing it for nothing."
Justice Arin leaned forward slightly. "For every case you win, you'll be given **more money than you can imagine**. Money, power, knowledge—anything you want."
Michael's grin faded. **More money than he ever imagined?**
For the first time in his life, he felt a knot in his gut. He had spent years scraping by on minimal funds, seeing other attorneys—the ones with the good contacts and excellent reputation—build their success. While he drank to erase his failures, knowing he was intelligent and competent, but just **unlucky** enough never to arrive.
He moved his jaw, considering the offer. "What if I lose?"
Justice Arin's bright eyes dulled a little. "Then you will stay here. Forever."
Michael sighed. "A good punishment, I suppose." He rubbed his face and shook his head. "Alright, let's see it. What's my first case?"
Here, the fog surrounding the throne shifted. A chill ran through the courtroom, and before anyone knew it, a new presence stood **beside Michael**—a ghostly form that shifted from solid to transparent.
Eliza Moon.
She was young—likely in her mid-twenties—dressed in flowing robes that shone faintly, as if they were made of silver moonlight. Her black hair fell long down her shoulders, and her pale, mournful face showed quiet dignity. Ghostly energy chains hung loose on her wrists, glowing softly with a light blue color.
Michael blinked. "Oh, wonderful. A ghost client. Lovely."
Eliza lifted her chin and whispered firmly. "I am innocent."
Justice Arin addressed them, their voice heavy. "Eliza Moon stands charged with **haunting the Sacred Temple of Yusei**, driving the priests mad, and desecrating holy ground. The charges include that she has cursed the temple, muttering blasphemies under the cover of darkness and destroying the minds of those who dwell within its hallowed halls."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "And you want **me** to prove that she **didn't**?
Eliza folded her hands into fists. "I solemnly swear on my honor, I never did such a thing! I would **never** desecrate holy ground."
Michael watched her intently. He had defended dishonest clients before, but there was something in the tone of her words—the utter confidence, the desperation—that halted him.
Justice Arin told him, "You must learn the truth and present your side. If you do it well, Eliza will be exonerated of any fault."
Michael massaged his temples once more and exhaled slowly. "Let me see if I understand this. I'm representing a ghost in a special court of supernatural affairs for a charge of property damage?"
Justice Arin nodded once. "Correct."
Michael stood before Eliza. "Are you **certain** you did not do it?"
Her eyes burned with rage. "I am guilty of nothing but dying unjustly."
Michael sighed. "Of course you were."
He glanced at Justice Arin and thought quickly. "What if I say no?"
"You can't say no," Arin said bluntly.
Michael stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"When you came into this court, you became part of what is happening here. You have to try this case."
Michael let out a long, exhausted breath. "It's unbelievable. Just **unbelievable**." He glared at Eliza, his hips planted on his hands. "Okay, **fine**. I'll represent you. But if I find out you're lying, ghost or not, I'm **dropping you faster than my old landlord dropped my deposit.**"
Eliza's gaze grew soft in thankfulness. "I promise, I won't let you down."
Michael exhaled. "Yeah, well, don't make promises you can't keep. **I** am the attorney here."
Justice Arin held up a hand, and the fog surrounding the throne shifted once more. "Then it is settled. Your first case begins at dawn."
The courtroom shook ever so slightly, and the symbols on the walls started to glow as a supernatural energy filled the room.
Michael drew a breath, his hand adjusting his jacket. "Great. First night working, and I'm already in **deep cosmic bullshit.**"
Justice Arin's bright eyes pierced him. "May you prove yourself worthy, Michael Yoon." Michael chuckled. "Friend, I was born to prove people wrong." With the courtroom growing dark, Michael had a crushing feeling that his life—his **real** life—was only now beginning.