„Domain Expansion.“

The air fractures with silent precision. Black seams slice reality apart as the Domain unfolds. In an instant, the courtroom forms, a sealed, circular space of oppressive silence.

Two podiums stand across from one another, surrounded by suspended guillotines. Their blades hang motionless, yet heavy with implied threat. Paper envelopes drift through the still air like ash, scattering across the cold floor. There are no walls, no sky, only judgment.

Hiromi Higuruma stands at the prosecutor’s podium, still and composed, holding a single sealed envelope in one hand. His expression is unreadable, distant, tired, and disinterested.

Behind him, Judgeman looms on the elevated judge’s bench. Massive, blind and silent. The shikigami floats with rigid impatience, its sewn-shut eyes twitching faintly. The scales in its hands shift ever so slightly, as if weighing something not yet said.

Hiromi speaks without urgency. His voice is flat, almost bored, yet every word is exact.

“Welcome to my Domain. Violence is meaningless here. Only your words hold weight.”

He glances at the envelope in his hand, but doesn’t open it.

“Judgeman has submitted evidence. I haven’t read it. You won’t see it. One statement. That’s all you get.”

His gaze meets the defendant’s podium, void of judgment, yet full of consequence.

“How do you plead? Guilty, not guilty… or silent?”