Walking into his office, (having been sick for a while,) Miles staggered to his desk and sat down sloppily in his chair, frowning at his aching head. He hadn't gotten much sleep at home either, so he looked more tired and weak. And though his thinking was poor and his body throbbed with heat and cold, he went about his work with a tiny amount of strength.

Deciding to take a short break, he sat with a cup of his favorite tea in one hand and drank it, rubbing his temple with the other. Everything was blurring in front of Edgeworth's eyes, and his head was almost out of focus and spinning. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he tried to hold on, frowning harder.

Suddenly, to the prosecutor, there was a knock at the door. Miles could only shift his gaze to it. The weakness made it hard to say anything. Without waiting for his response, the person hesitantly opened the door and stepped inside. Phoenix Wright? Edgeworth was little surprised to see the lawyer. He wondered what he wanted here.