Proof of the Demon Lord's Innocence - Chapter 4

“Just what is this guy?”

Trias’s first impression of Freya Blossom wasn’t flattering.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this.” Freya said, his tone light and casual, as they were old friends. Trias could understand people who weren’t great with formalities, but somehow they could be a little more respect in a situation like this.

Freya’s posture only added to Trias’s irritation. The lawyer sat with his legs spread wide, elbows propped on the table, and his chin resting in his hands. It was lazy and disrespectful, especially in such serious matter like this. Anyone else in Trias’s position would’ve been mad.

“What do you want? If you’re here to gawk, just leave. I’m in a foul mood as it is.”

Trias felt a twinge of regret for the flicker of hope he’d felt when Freya’s red hair first came in. He hated that he’d let himself be so easily swayed by appearances. His parents had always taught him better than to judge a book by its cover.

His mood was as bad as he said, maybe worse. Being falsely accused and thrown in prison wasn’t exactly conducive to good spirits, but more than that, a slow-burning rage simmered beneath the surface. He was angry at the injustice. It was no wonder no one wanted to defend him, Demon Lord or not.

Freya didn’t seem fazed by Trias’s hostility, or he was just really good at pretending not to notice. Instead, he got straight to the point, his words blunt and disarmingly confident. “Let me be your lawyer. You’re innocent, right?”

Two thoughts hit Trias immediately. First, surprise. In a world where a Demon Lord’s arrest was practically a guilty verdict in itself, someone, a lawyer, no less, was willing to suggest otherwise. Second, suspicion and annoyance. Was this a joke? A cruel trick to raise his hopes just to crush them? He wasn’t naive enough to trust words so easily, and he certainly wasn’t desperate enough to grab onto empty promises.

“I refuse. I cannot entrust my fate to some stranger who seems to enjoy mocking people.” Trias said firmly, his tone cold.

Clinging to life wasn’t his priority. What mattered to him was his pride and his commitment to the truth. He didn’t trust lawyers, even peculiar ones with reputations as “noble thieves”.

“Mocking you? Me?” Freya asked, sounding genuinely perplexed.

“If not, why would you involve yourself in a case with a guaranteed guilty verdict?” Trias shot back. “And even if you are serious, incompetence won’t help me. I’m not desperate enough to rely on someone who lacks the skill or the will to fight for me”.

Freya tilted his head, his sharp gaze meeting Trias’s without flinching. “I see.”

Trias couldn’t believe the words coming out of Freya’s mouth or his motives.

“Just what is this guy?” he thought again.

Despite his earlier dismissal, Freya’s confident smile hadn’t wavered. It was irritatingly persistent, much like the man himself.

“So,” Freya said, leaning forward slightly, “I just need to show you what I can do, right?”

“What?” Trias frowned, unsure whether to be more annoyed or intrigued by the casual claimed.

Freya didn’t wait for permission to continue. “Cops favor physically strong Jobs because they need to handle tough situations. But detectives and lawyers? They rely on sharp minds and smooth talkers, Thieves, Scholars, or Mages. Especially Mages, because we can sense magic traces. That’s key in uncovering evidence others Mister. In a way, lawyers and detectives aren’t all that different. We’re both after the truth.”

Trias found himself focusing on Freya. He didn’t want to, but the young man’s words carried an odd mix of arrogance and intrigue. The Demon Lord Job, Trias knew, came with a natural affinity for magic. He’d spent his life honing his ability to sense and evaluate magical strength. It didn’t take long for him to assess Freya.

“You’re a Mage, not a Summoner or a Black Mage. You’re a White Mage.” Trias said, narrowing his eyes.

“Heh, you can tell? Impressive.” Freya smirked.

“It’s simple, Mages have significantly more magic power than most Jobs. Summoners track magic but can’t sync well with human magic—a poor fit for a lawyer. Black Mages specialize in offensive spells, so they tend to concentrate their magic in their hands, especially their dominant one. You don’t show that habit. By elimination, you’re a White Mage. And you don’t have the calluses of a Magic Swordsman, either.” Trias replied.

“Interesting.” Freya chuckled.

Trias felt like he was being played, but he knew Freya wouldn’t leave unless he was convinced. He might as well play along, adding a little provocation of his own.

“Now it’s my turn. I did some basic research before coming here. I mean, your case is all over the news. Hard to miss. So, this is what I figured out after meeting you today.”

Freya pointed at Trias’s forehead through the glass, his gaze sharp.

“You’re a Demon Lord, but your parents accepted you. You were raised in a relatively wealthy household, taught proper manners, and developed strong magical aptitude, leaning toward Black Mage. You’re incredibly proud and willing to die to protect that pride. Yet, you still want to clear your name. And… you’re a bookworm who follows the news religiously.”

“How do you know all that?” Trias blinked, stunned by how much Freya had deduced.

“It’s all in your attitude.” Freya grinned.

“Go on” Trias said, curiously.

“Your survival at birth is the first clue. Demon Lord babies are usually killed by fearful parents. That you’re alive means your parents loved and accepted you. Then there’s how you reacted when I walked in. Your first thought was, “Who’s this arrogant j*rk?” That tells me you were raised in an environment where etiquette mattered. But you looked away right after, a sign of regret, like you felt ashamed. That guilt means you loved and respected your parents deeply.”

Freya’s deductions were absolutely precise. He lived up his reputation as the Rebel of Justice.

“Continue,” Trias said, his interested.

“The magic affinity is obvious, right? I saw what you saw.”

“Indeed. Possible if you’re a White Mage.”

“We’ve never met, but you knew about me. The news is the likely source. Unless I’m a published author, which I’m not. You maintain your innocence, meaning you value pride over life. You called this a “case with a guaranteed guilty verdict.” You’ll likely be executed if you don’t confess, yet you haven’t. You’re not the type to beg for mercy. That’s why you tried to dismiss me, a non-court-appointed lawyer offering to defend you, something you should be desperate for. My attitude made you distrust me. You’d rather die proclaiming your innocence than rely on someone you don’t trust. That’s the kind of resolve you have.”
“Yet, I wanted to meet you.”
“That’s where the conflict lies. You met me, but tried to dismiss me. You said, “If you’re here to gawk, leave!” because you didn’t think I was here to gawk. You were disappointed. You haven’t completely given up on clearing your name. You won’t beg for your life, but you won’t give up hope either. That’s my analysis of Trias Marigold. How do i do?”

Trias couldn’t deny Freya’s sharpness, though the lawyer’s cocky attitude still grated on him.

Freya straightened his posture, his expression softening for the first time.

“I want to defend you because I think you’re innocent. My gut feeling’s never been wrong in cases like this. And…” He hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “I’m tired of the same old story. Demon Lord arrested, automatically guilty. Hero righteous, happily ever after. It’s all so… shallow. Everyone deserves a chance of happiness. Don’t you think?”

It was a cheesy line, but sincere.

Freya stood, shoulders squared, his fiery red hair catching the light.

“Please, let me be your lawyer!”

Clever move. Trias could see that Freya’s dramatic plea was carefully crafted to leave him with no real option to say no.

He sighed, a reluctant flicker of hope piercing the darkness. “Fine. Do as you like.”

Freya’s grin returned, and for the first time, Trias wondered if this unusual man might actually stand a chance.