By Zephyria 
“I thought we were on the same page…”
The way he let the end of the sentence linger strangely made me frown.
“On the same page? You and I?”
I spat back irritably a beat later.
“Why on earth would I be on the same page as you?”
As I spoke, I blatantly scanned his entire body before locking my gaze on his face. Then, I deliberately let out a short, scoffing breath. My attitude was one of clear ridicule, as if asking where he had gotten such a preposterous idea.
Specifically, toward Nathaniel Miller.
The distance between us was only a couple of steps. If Nathaniel reached out, strangling me would be a simple matter. And this time, there would be no one to help me.
Knowing this, I neither regretted the provocation nor had any intention of stopping. Rather, I was on the verge of boiling over with a desire to turn that man inside out. I wanted to distort that mask-like, cold face. The reckless impulse to leave even a tiny scratch on the mood of this brazen, shameless man—who tried to sleep with me as if nothing had happened after abandoning the trial and fleeing—was merely a burst of bravado brought on by being completely drunk.
“Hmm,” a short sigh escaped Nathaniel’s lips. After letting out a breath that was impossible to tell if it was a sigh or something else, he tilted his head to one side and spoke. His voice sounded as if it were laced with a hint of laughter, pretending to be pitying.
“I thought the war between us was over, but seeing your attitude, it seems that is not the case.”
I was about to say that negotiations were still pending. But in that moment, something suddenly flashed through my mind.
…Why didn’t I think of that?
It was entirely possible. Now that I thought about it, it didn’t add up that the victim’s mother, who had so desperately begged for a trial, would simply give up just upon hearing the name Miller. If so, there could only be one reason.
With a stiff expression, I glared at the man and spoke.
“How does it feel? To get the result you want by threatening the victims.”
When I provoked him with maximum sarcasm, Nathaniel’s eyes seemed surprised for a split second. However, it was truly only a flash, and he soon regained his usual composure, throwing the question back at me.
“What are you talking about? All of a sudden.”
He acted as if he had no idea, but I didn’t back down and spoke again.
“To give up on a trial simply by hearing the name Miller—anyone who believes that is absurdly naive.”
Actually, I had been that way too. The reason I only just thought of it was that the emptiness and bewilderment of the trial vanishing overnight had occupied my mind first. If this man hadn’t appeared now, would I have ever realized it?
…Not that it would change anything.
As I bit my lip in frustration, the man spoke.
“Are you saying I threatened Smith? Why would I?”
After a very brief pause, Nathaniel added.
“Because I was afraid I’d lose to you?”
He raised his empty hand to his mouth, as if trying to hide a burst of laughter. That reaction disgusted me. I had clearly hoped to insult him and make him angry, but instead, Nathaniel Miller found the situation amusing. My fingertips grew cold, and I repeatedly clenched and unclenched my fists. I lifted my head and glared at his exhaustingly delicate face. Then, Nathaniel Miller lowered his hand and apologized to me.
“My apologies, it’s just that this is the first time I’ve heard such a funny joke.”
His face was filled with blatant amusement. Facing that expression of clear ridicule and mockery, I didn’t back down and spat out harshly:
“If that’s not it, then why go out of your way to give up the trial? We had clear witnesses, evidence, and motives; we had everything. You must have known you had no chance of winning. That’s why you persuaded Mrs. Smith to drop the trial, isn’t it?”
The last part was purely my own speculation. But given the man’s current attitude, I was almost certain. Would he deny it again, claiming he knew nothing? While I waited with an unpleasant feeling, he spoke with a face that remained calm, unlike my high tension.
“I was being considerate of you, so that you wouldn’t be humiliated.”
I momentarily doubted my ears at the man’s slow-drifting voice. But it didn’t end there. Suddenly, Nathaniel took a stride forward. Planting his cane on the ground and moving his other foot, he became so close in just one step that our noses almost touched. The moment I instinctively took a step back, Nathaniel Miller leaned his head down. A thick, sweet scent suddenly spread. Just as I felt my senses growing hazy, a low voice seeped into my ear like a whisper.
“If you wanted a trial that badly, you should have crawled into my bed.”
As I froze in place, he muttered in a voice laced with laughter.
“If you had dropped your pathetic little game of playing prosecutor and just spread your legs beneath me, I would have happily lost any number of trials for you.”
At those words, a fuse snapped in my head. Thwack—a resounding sound echoed. The loud noise that momentarily shook the quiet night air brought a flicker of guilt, but more than that, it brought an immense sense of relief. The sound of my fist striking Nathaniel Miller’s jaw was as refreshing as a scream shouted at the top of one’s lungs in a vast plain. Even though the opponent didn’t even fall backward, and his face only turned slightly to the side.
Nathaniel Miller’s reaction came a bit late. First, he moved his eyes to look down at me, and then he slowly turned his head back. Watching him slowly stroke his lower jaw with one hand, as if he couldn’t believe he had been hit, I muttered through clenched teeth.
“You piece of shit, go fuck some other hole.”
Ptooey—I spat on the ground as if telling him to look, then threw out one last word.
“Trash.”
That was what I had wanted to say to him all along. I felt much better now that I had finally let it out. I didn’t think about what would happen afterward. Of course I didn’t; I was drunk. Completely, right up to the top of my head.
“…Ha.”
A sigh of disbelief escaped Nathaniel’s lips. A red mark remained on his smooth, white skin. It might bruise by tomorrow. Thinking that made me feel that he got what he deserved. The infuriating smile he had shown until now was gone, and a deep frown was etched between his brows. Seeing his expression, which didn’t hide his irritation, I thought for the first time that this man was actually human.
…Or so I thought.
“…Gasp?”
There was no time to even scream. In the sudden turn of events, all I could do was swallow my breath in surprise. Grabbing my neck with one hand, Nathaniel easily lifted me up. I was choked off, and though I strained on my tiptoes, they only grazed the ground; I couldn’t find any footing.
“Chrissy Jin.”
Nathaniel Miller whispered in a voice so low and sunken that I had never heard it before. As I struggled desperately with my whole body to pry away the hand gripping my windpipe, he—holding my neck with just one hand—muttered in a voice that showed no sign of shaking.