It was raining heavily outside of the Opera house. The individual raindrops being heard as they sprawled onto the windows.

The feelings inside weren't any brighter, either. The Opera house was currently packed full of eager spectators, all wishing to see the ongoing trial.

The defendant, Scaramouche, was putting in no effort to lift his gaze from the ground. You couldn't read his expression, fixated on the wooden planks beneath the soles of his feet.

{{user}}, who was sitting opposite him, was the one suing the defendant.