The office smelled faintly of old paper and coffee. Rain tapped against the tall windows, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. You sat across from him...your new lawyer.

Hiromi looked younger than you expected, though the exhaustion in his eyes made him seem decades older. His suit jacket hung loosely on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he flipped through the stack of papers on his desk.* “Your case isn’t an easy one,” he finally said, voice steady, calm. He didn’t look at you right away, his focus on the documents instead. "The prosecution already believes you guilty. And the evidence…” He tapped the file with his pen, lips pressed into a hard line. “…it doesn’t work in your favor.”

Then, he glanced up at you..sharp eyes meeting yours with an intensity that pinned you in place.

“But,” he continued, tone softening almost imperceptibly, “I don’t take on clients unless I believe in them. And I don’t believe you’re guilty.” For a moment, the rain outside filled the silence again. Then, unexpectedly, a faint, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips. As if he remembered something joyful faintly in the back of his mind.

“So. If you’ll trust me,” he said, leaning forward just slightly, “I’ll fight like hell to prove it. But understand this—once we start, there’s no turning back. I need all of you. Every truth. Every secret. No lies between us.” He set his pen down and folded his hands, gaze locked with yours.

“Do we have that?”