176 Knowing Me, Knowing You
A/N: Missed you guys! Hope you enjoy this lengthier read to make up for my absence – and prepare for crossover characters from this chapter onward! 😊
“Life can be so good if you let it. But you must trade with life. You give something and you get something, then you give something of yourself again and you receive something again. Life goes bad when people try to take from it without giving. Then they came away empty-handed, and they grab harder and more often, growing more disappointed and disillusioned each time. Most of us know ourselves from our limited experiences in familiar situations that involve rules, laws, policies, and pressures that constrain us. We go to work, to school, on vacation, to parties; we pay the bills and taxes, day in and year out.
But what happens when we are exposed to totally new and unfamiliar settings where our regular habits don’t suffice? The old version of you might not work as expected when the ground rules change. We need to learn that sometimes, change, even unexpected change, can be a good thing.
We need to learn that sometimes, change, even unexpected change, can be a good thing. It is only when we openly embrace, not fight, new vicissitudes in our lives, that we may be fortunate enough to experience what the French call “Trouvaille.”
Trouvaille is defined as a serendipitous, lucky encounter with something wonderful.
It is based on the essential belief that every choice you make, each decision you take, comes from the script of your fate.”
Maya Fey and Franziska Von Karma?
Strand Palace Hotel
Sacred Café London
July 20, 2026
Completely caught off guard, the seated patron jolted in her chair at the unforeseen appearance of the perspiring, wild-eyed, ebony-haired female before her, who was now heavily supporting her arms against the table of the outdoor café. Her full lips parted in an astonished gasp, one well-manicured hand flying to the front of her chest, which was covered by a fetching white floral jumpsuit.
“The cruel hide-and-seek game you’ve been playing with me ends today, right here, right now!” Maya panted, staring accusingly into the acquainted visage of the supposed friend who’d been avoiding her for so long. “Don’t even think of trying to run away from me this time, Franziska Von Karma!”
Unfortunately for the completely winded psychic, her dramatic proclamation was completely nullified as she attempted to suck in another wheezing breath to break into another tirade, only to end up sounding like a whistling tea kettle.
“Holla, die Waldfee!” The wide-brimmed sun-hat wearer’s cadence rose with alarm, as the village leader appeared ready to collapse from exertion. “Are you all right? Please, take a seat before you pass out!”
The poor, panting diviner leaned over and braced her hands against her thighs. She was utterly spent from the irregular and impromptu physical activity of sprinting across the street in high heels on what was already promising to be a blisteringly hot summer day, despite only being just after nine o’clock in the morning!
Concern was etched across the European Frau’s mein as she hastily poured some water from the frosty pitcher on the table into an untouched tumbler, then pressed it against the new arrival’s sweaty palm.
“Drink this!” She commanded, her German accent palpable as she forcibly rose from her chair and pressed a hand against the visitor’s shoulder, forcing the Master to sit down into the unoccupied seat beside her and shoving the water glass forward. “Meine Güte! It is already 26° in this record-breaking heatwave London is having, yet you foolishly came running over here? And in those pumps, nevertheless?! Are you mad?”
Maya didn’t answer, as she was too busy chugging the icy liquid down her parched, burning throat, draining the entire contents of the proffered glass in one gulp before setting it back down and eyeing her friend with a grateful but determined expression.
“Thanks, I really needed that! But of course, I darted over here! I had to! I couldn’t just let you get away again – not after dodging me all this time!”
“Again?” The beauty slid her dark shades partially down her pert nose, so the spirit medium could deduce the genuine bewilderment in those well-known gray eyes. “I am afraid I have no idea what you are going on about!”
“Cheese and rice!” Now it was Maya’s turn to be perplexed and gawking. “Are you seriously going to play dumb about the fact that you’ve been deliberately ignoring all my calls and messages for this past year, Franziska?!”
“Franziska? Ach du grüne Neune! Apologies, but I am afraid there has been some sort of mistake…” The woman began just as Pearl rushed up to their table and skidded to a stop, having caught the tail end of her cousin’s sentence.
“Who are you?” The teenage spirit medium gawked at the mysterious figure in the oversized sunhat. “You’re not the mean whipping lady!”
Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright
The Old Bailey
AKA
The Central Criminal Court of England and Wales
July 20, 2026
At times like this, the great differences between Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth were visibly tangible, as the dignified prosecutor, despite being equally taken aback at the unanticipated voice behind them in the lobby was at least able to maintain his composure – unlike his slack-jawed counterpart!
“It’s been a long time, but welcome back to England, Mr. Wright.” Beneath jade-colored fringe, a mystical twinkle flickered in the familiar cerulean eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Miles stared at the androgynous, smiling mien, and sternly reminded himself that this was real life and not a Pokémon game! Ergo, it would be most impudent to blurt out the 64 million-dollar question in his mind: “Are you a boy or a girl?”
Instead, he curbed his tongue and politely awaited the introduction which would dissipate the enigma surrounding the sex of the slim figure clad in brown breeches and a matching vest over with a white, long-sleeved dress shirt. Whoever the person was, despite knowing the legal eagle’s name, they were nevertheless a total stranger to him, yet undoubtedly knew Phoenix well enough. The small, heart-shaped face was peering up at the spiky-haired man expectantly.
The pianist closed his mouth hurriedly and offered his hand to their arrival.
“Stone the crows, I haven’t heard from you for yonks, Mr. Wright!” The ex-defense attorney’s hand was shaken up and down vigorously, as though pumping for water. “You’re looking even more fit than you did back then!”
“Jean Greyerl!” The spiky-haired man’s surprise was still evident. “You’re just about the last person I thought I’d ever see again!”
Miles groaned inwardly.
Jean. Naturally, the person’s name had to be an undeniable gender-neutral one! It may as well have been Jamie or Robin!
“Wright!” He hissed in the other man’s ear, unable to quell his curiosity for another minute. “Be this a lass or a lad in our midst?”
“Um, it depends on who’s asking?” Phoenix muttered back out of the side of his mouth, flashing Jean a sickly grin and hoping they weren’t overheard. “Or what day it is!”
Oblivious to this exchange, the dubious chap extended a hand to Miles, who shook it tentatively.
“Good day to you, Jean,” he said politely. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
“Believe me when I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Edgeworth.” A coquettish smirk played Jean’s lips as the small hand lingered purposely on the lawyer’s. “Truly, I am chuffed to bits to see the both of you at last! The good Professor kindly informed me that Mr. Wright would be accompanied by the world-famous prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth this morning, so I was able to ascertain your identity by process of elimination. However… Sir Layton failed to mention just how cracking that English accent of yours was!”
He can deepen said inflection on a whim, depending on who’s around, Phoenix longed to add but wisely kept mum. Verily, I’d dare say he’s turning even more British with every passing second!
The barrister felt his face grow warm at the blatant admiration as their new acquaintance’s tone took on a flirty inflection.
“The good knight also didn’t let on just how dishy you were, either! Tee hee!”
Jean tittered as a blush swept over the magenta-suited man’s cheeks, and made no move to release his hand.
Miles discreetly struggled to free his palm from the determined clasp of the odd boy/girl, who was now batting their lashes at him.
Blast it! Why is it maddening persons or those of evasive gender keep having designs on me, or else force me to be seeing them starkers, like in the harrowing Armstrong plane photo?! I’m having a sickening sense of déjà vu identical to when I met that wriggling pink pudding puff, as I still have no idea what this bleeding Jean is! Jean! Just like that ridiculous Jean Armstrong! A pox on that name!
Mercifully, as though sensing his discomfort, Phoenix swept in to rescue him.
“What brings you to the British courts, Jean?” He asked congenially. “Last time I saw you in Labyrinthia, was after I’d gotten you exonerated from the trial. Barnham told me you’d returned to the late Newton Belduke’s house to continue your duties tending your former master’s home.”
Jean finally released the flustered chess lover’s hand, all attention now directed on her old friend as she nonchalantly freed her long hair from its hidden ponytail. Heavy, sea-colored waves came tumbling free, mercifully ending all further speculation about her gender. The former accused witch was blessedly unaware of the slate-haired man’s sigh of relief at this revelation of femininity, knowing he was still batting 1000 in creating frothing desire amongst the female masses!
“Well it turns out there’s not much of an occupation in tending to the abandoned estate of a late alchemist, since Eve started up a cat sanctuary and had no desire to resume living in a place of such painful memories,” she explained. “Labyrinthia is still the hunky-dory dorp you recall… steeped in the annals of history! And it is still a residence for most of the locals you met. However, having no master means there’s nobody to serve. I came to London to pursue the path of legal scholar, right after Espella’s father sacked me.”
“Sweet merciful crap! That debauched old lecher did what? Sacked you?!” The DILF’s mouth hung open in horrified disbelief. “How could he do that?! Were you even legal at the time?! What is the age of consent in this country, anyway?!”
Miles eyed his gormless friend disbelievingly, questioning how someone so thick had ever managed to defeat him – or anyone! – in a court of law!
“Crikey, Wright! Stop being such a buggering dimwitted pillock! The young lady isn’t implying that Cantabella shagged her when she says he sacked her! It means he fired her!”
“Nice one, Mr. Edgeworth! Indeed, the dashing barrister is correct,” Jean giggled, winking at Miles. “No beds were involved with the proverbial sacks! Mayor Cantabella merely gave me my formal pink slip, to make me officially redundant so I could pursue greener pastures on the mainland.”
“Oh, is that what it translates into?” Phoenix grinned sheepishly at the amused young lady and scratched the back of his neck. “Whoops! I guess I’m still trying to get au fait with the lingo barrier between countries! I mean, England is like another world compared to America for me! Even though we’re both speaking English, at times it feels like we aren’t talking the same language! Heh, heh.”
Miles sighed disgustedly and shook his head, but said nothing.
“I trust you found the alchemy notes Sir Layton sent you last year to be helpful, Mr. Wright?” Jean prodded hopefully. “Due to my prior alchemy knowledge from my time with Sir Belduke, the good Professor put me on the job of having a butchers at the tablets he found in the French catacombs whilst digging into your daughter’s history, then getting sorted all the ancient scribe translations.”
“Were you the one who clarified all that information for us?” Phoenix beamed and warmly squeezed her shoulder in gratitude. “Jean, I can’t thank you enough for that! Trucy was over the moon with the revelations about her ancestry and knowing she descends from a long line of alchemists! I was almost jealous, really. I’d love to know more about my own roots, but as I have no living family anymore, that’s unlikely to happen.”
“Sod’s law. I am very sorry to hear that. It’s nice to know where you came from, so you can have a better idea of where you’re going,” the hoyden commiserated. “Although there are some times it can’t be helped, I suppose.”
She tilted her head and gave the men a sunny smile.
“Any road, that’s enough of me waffling on! Sir Layton disclosed that you folks are here to gen up on our court systems, and I am to lead you to one of our exciting trials in session, so let’s chivvy along! You’ll have to leave your mobiles with me, of course, before entering the courtroom, as they aren’t allowed.”
“Court’s not too far into session, is it?” Miles couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed. “I hope we didn’t miss anything important getting here at nearly noon.”
Phoenix swallowed back a scathing retort, barely refraining from reminding his companion that had he not insisted on prolonging their initial, boring-as-hell tour at The Royal Courts of Justice, they could have been at the Old Bailey much earlier!
“Cases are open to the public from 10 in the morning, but there’s been lunch break since then, so I reckon you didn’t miss too much,” Jean informed them as she began leading the way to the courtrooms. “It’s a world-famous courthouse that we are presently in, gentleman. Its presence is prominent in a few bits of pop culture. As a young court reporter, Dickens was a regular at the Old Bailey, and the tales he heard sometimes inspired his own fiction. In A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, the Old Bailey is the courthouse named in the novel where Charles Darnay is put on trial for treason.”
Ever the bibliophile, Miles nodded, impressed with this bit of literary trivia, while Phoenix just surveyed the legal scholar blankly. Stifling an amused grin, Jean further elaborated.
“The Central Criminal Court of England and Wales is also prominent in mainstream cinema as well. At the beginning of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, Joshamee Gibbs is tried in the Old Bailey, and Jack Sparrow disguises himself as Justice Smith.”
“Now you’re talking my language!” Phoenix crowed ebulliently. “Maya has the biggest crush on Johnny Depp, even though she denies it, so I’ve had to sit through every single one of those swashbuckling films!”
“Far be it for your chav self to know a reference to actual literature, Wright.” Miles’s tone was haughtier than usual. “Would it truly be such a beastly experience for you to pick up a bloody book and become more erudite every once in a while?”
Phoenix glowered at the sanctimonious, wannabe Englishman, whose patronizing nose was so high in the air at this point, it was amazing one could still see his eyes!
“I’ll stop being a pillbox or whatever it was you called me if you quit it with the snobbish, condescending Anglophile spiel and speak normal English!”
“I am speaking English! The Queen’s English, you blasted, benighted Yank!”
“I see you’ve conveniently forgotten you’re a born American too, you holier-than-thou, pretentious prig! So as they say here in England – belt up!”
Dissolving into gales of laughter at their non-stop sparring, the legal scholar escorted them down a long hallway and continued regaling them with information. This time, the poker champ did not find the material boring in the least, for he was very interested in anything pertaining to criminal law.
Plus, Jean’s effervescent speech is so much more lilting to the ear than Edgeworth’s endless monologues, made even more insufferably monotonous with his new euphuistic accent, which is even more British than blood pudding!
“In England and Wales jury trials are used for criminal cases, requiring 12 jurors (between the ages of 18 and 75), though the trial may continue with as few as 9. The right to a jury trial has been enshrined in English law since Magna Carta in 1215, and is most common in serious cases, but the defendant can insist on a jury trial for most criminal cases. That being said, on 18 June 2009 the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Judge, sitting in the Court of Appeal, made English legal history by ruling that a criminal trial in the Crown Court could take place without a jury, under the provisions of the Criminal Justice Act 2003.”
Jean escorted the men along, peppering their ears with more trivia en route.
“There are two parts to the building, old and new. The entrance to the public gallery for the old part is on Newgate Street. This building contains the two most important courts: Court One and Court Two. Court One has witnessed some of the most notorious defendants in British criminal history. The trial of Ian Huntley, who was jailed for the murder of two 10-year-old schoolgirls in Soham, Cambridgeshire, was held in this court. The Kray Twins and The Yorkshire Ripper also appeared in Court One. However, because the court is old, has small seats, and does not have much legroom, especially for the Jury, judges often move to the more modern courts in the new building, which is more comfortable. Court Two is the high-security court, and terrorist trials and the like often take place here. That’s where I am taking you gents right now.”
“Do only the judges have to wear those frilly white wigs, or do the lawyers have to wear those, too?” Phoenix asked Jean while Miles marveled at some of the magnificent ten-foot-high paintings of legendary legal men and women adorning the hallway walls.
“Barristers and judges alike are required to wear the wigs, along with the robes, as well. Like many uniforms, wigs are an emblem of anonymity, an attempt to distance the wearer from personal involvement, and a way to visually draw on the supremacy of the law. Wigs are so much a part of British criminal courts that if a barrister doesn’t wear a wig, it’s seen as an insult to the court.”
The lass twittered at the card shark’s expression, which conveyed he’d been thinking that exact thought!
“Yes, we all know the blasted things are ugly as sin, and make them all look like they’re wearing a dead sheep on their bonces!”
Both men chuckled slightly at this inescapable truth as she went on.
“Barristers must wear a wig slightly frizzed at the crown, with horizontal curls on the sides and back. In addition, there are two long strips of hair that hang down below the hairline on the neck and sport a looped curl at each end. Different types of lawyers, though, have distinctions in the style of wig. A judge’s wig is similar but more ornate. It’s a full wig, from a slightly frizzed top that transitions into tight horizontal curls that range several inches below the shoulders. Most wigs are made of white horse hair, but as a wig tends to yellow with age, it takes on a coveted patina that conveys experience.”
“You see that, Edgeworth?” Phoenix teased his comrade. “Your hair isn’t prematurely grey … it’s a coveted patina that conveys all your many years of logical legal expertise and experience!”
Miles shot his friend a baleful glare.
“You’ve got some bloody cheek, Wright!”
Noting that the magenta-clad legist appeared downright murderous right then, the snickering Jean hurriedly stepped in between them before the ex-lawyer fell victim to the scenario where the prosecutor would become a homicide defendant in this very courthouse!
“Mr. Wright, stop taking the mickey with your distinguished silver fox of a mate!” She chastised playfully, winking at the lawyer again. “For the record, methinks Mr. Edgeworth is quite tidy with that dashing mane of his!”
Miles cursed the heat resurfacing in his cheeks once again and attempted to hide it by abruptly turning his back to his friends to study a particularly eye-catching set of paintings as Jean continued to lecture about judicial wigs.
“Horsehair may not seem like a particularly precious material, but pair specialty hair with an age-old craft of styling, sewing, and gluing, and the resulting wigs aren’t cheap. A judge’s full-length wig can cost more than $3,000, while the shorter ones worn by barristers cost more than $500.”
Phoenix let out a long whistle. “That’s pretty steep alright!”
They approached a couple of beautifully detailed paintings, positioned side-by-side, just before the entrance to courtroom number two, and Jean beamed as she noted how the Americans were enthralled with the first portrait of the two oils.
It showed a strapping man with aristocratic bearing, who appeared to be in his mid-30s. He was dressed in shiny, knee-high, black boots, worn over snowy breaches that matched his elbow-length gloves and cravat. The regal ensemble was flanked by a deep, forest-green cape. Gold tassels hung from the shoulders on his matching, high-collared doublet and vest beneath, and a white sash with a red lining hung across his broad chest. Attractive but aloof in appearance, he had classic, patrician features, and the imposing male’s piercing, frosty blue-grey eyes seemed to be staring down at the trio with unmistakable disapproval. His metal-grey hair was combed back from his forehead, which bore a faint X-shaped scar, save for two, sharp-looking fringes that sat on either side of his forehead into stubborn locks, grazing along artfully groomed, and deeply furrowed eyebrows. In one gloved hand, the man held a rapier, a skinny, Musketeer-style sword, while in the other was a gold-rimmed goblet filled with ruby liquid.
“Who the heck is this vampire holding the glass of blood?” The hobo inquired with a mock shudder. “Edgeworth, am I the only one getting the creepy reminder of Manfred Von Karma?!”
While Miles couldn’t refute the eerie resemblance to his late mentor, he was much too reticent to say such gauche things aloud, and merely nodded his silent agreement.
“This was would one of Britain’s most legendary prosecutors during the early 20th century, Sir Barok van Zieks. While you’re not the first to make the bloodsucker comparison, Mr. Wright, I assure you the chalice in his hand was filled with red wine and not any kind of actual sanguine fluid.”
The mirth was evident in Jean’s voice at Phoenix’s unabashed observation.
“That being said, the poor man did suffer from an accursed reputation as a Bringer of Death! He was known as the “Death God of the Old Bailey”, because all defendants he’d prosecuted would supposedly wind up dying in some way or another, regardless of their innocence or guilt. This “curse” eventually led to a five-year leave of absence. Upon his return, he prosecuted trials again opposite a young, equally legendary defense attorney – England’s first-ever exchange lawyer – named Ryūnosuke Naruhodō. He sailed over during Japan’s Meiji period and began his long legal career at the tail end of the Victorian period, which continued and went well past the following Edwardian era. That’s him in the painting next to said Nosferatu, alongside his wife and former legal assistant, Susato Mikotoba.”
“Barmy! A defense attorney who fell in love with then married his legal assistant,” Miles remarked wryly, crossing his arms over his chest and arching a brow at the pianist, who simply shrugged in response. “Who could ever fathom such a thing…”
Just then, Phoenix’s phone rang, and he stepped away from the other two in an attempt to be discreet, leaving Jean and the prosecutor to study the second portrait of the two foreigners who’d left their mark in the British legal system.
In sharp contrast to the cold realism of the slightly ominous prosecutor, this portrait was full of warmth, vibrancy, and life. Even if Jean hadn’t disclosed the man and woman were a couple, it still would have been as clear as day. The love between them was irrefutably visible to all who regarded the splendid artwork of the pair. They seemed to be in their 20s, although it was impossible to decipher their ages, as both bore the typical countenance and diminutive statures of eternal Asian youthfulness.
With a loving expression, Ryūnosuke was slightly leaning down towards the petite Susato, whose dainty fingertips rested against his forearm, while gazing tenderly at his spouse, who was staring up at him with equal adoration. The gifted artist had somehow managed to capture their miens at an angle that didn’t just limit them to profile view, so both of their faces and bodies were showcased to spectacular effect, and in vivid detail, right down the exquisite sakura floral ring on the lady’s left ring finger.
The sweet-faced young woman’s most striking feature was her almond, wide-set, doe-eyes. She was dressed in a traditional Japanese pink kimono, detailed with delicate white cherry blossoms. The benign smile on her rosebud lips made her seem almost angelic, and her flawless fair skin needed no artifice whatsoever, as she had a natural, almost otherworldly sort of prettiness. She wore her ebony hair swept back from her forehead, with the rest tied in a large loop dangling beside each seashell ear, held in place atop her head with a white ribbon.
But it wasn’t the undeniable exotic beauty of Susato Mikotoba which now had Miles’s eyes growing uncharacteristically wide as he further studied the pulchritudinous Japanese couple. It was the lingering inspection of Ryūnosuke Naruhodō which had him doing a double take.
Like his rival prosecutor, he also had a noticeable sheathed sword strapped to his side, a katana. One hand was resting against the blade’s handle, which had a prominent burgundy cloth wrapped around it. In his other hand, he held a framed black and white photo clutched tightly against his chest. The picture was of a young, good-looking Japanese male with angular features, wearing a headband around his forehead. The slim Asian man was dressed in a dark brown student uniform, with a flat collar, embellished by gold buttons.
All in all, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the boyishly handsome lawyer at first glance. Nothing at all…save for the determined jutting of the portrait attorney’s distinct, well-defined jawline, revealing a latent obstinate nature, which undoubtedly matched the couldn’t-miss, jagged peaks of his fringe and numerous pointed tufts within his thick black hair which could only be referred to as spikes!
Spikes that were indisputably identical to the trademarked ones currently on the noggin of the totally obtuse Phoenix Wright!
The ex-Ace Attorney was presumably chatting with his swain at present, back turned to his company and the painting – and thus entirely unmindful to the queer reactions of the logic genius and former alchemist aid! Both Jean and Miles were dramatically swiveling their heads back and forth between the redolent painting and the midnight-haired man standing in their midst, their visages wearing identical expressions of shock and awe as Phoenix jauntily continued prattling on the phone.
“Have I got a major surprise for you blokes!” Maya was saying coyly. “I am super stoked to tell you that we are going to have an additional dinner guest joining us tonight!”
“The more the merrier I always say!” Phoenix replied cheerfully. “I’m already looking forward to meeting this mysterious new friend that you girls have already made – and it’s only our second day in England!”
What’s this? Some blooming random stranger will be dining with us tonight?! Well, count me out! Miles thought grumpily. As it is, I am still jet-lagged, and can barely tolerate the maddening company I arrived here with! Even the added dash of culture and class that comes with the addition of a knighted professor won’t be enough to persuade me to join them! I’m in no mood to be social to some random chit Maya has decided to impose upon us, it is most definitely to be a hard pass on my behalf! I will simply order a room service dinner from Sebastien and tuck in at a less ungodly hour than last night’s festivities took us all! Perhaps I can even delve back into my book. It’s just as well, Wright and I need to be up early on the morrow for our “surprise tour” with Layton. Ergo, another late night just shall not do!
“It was like serendipity, to be honest!” Maya said happily. “Although it feels strange to have you use the word new. It’s sort of hard to explain – I mean, kinda sorta, but not really. Oh, I can’t stand keeping secrets from you, Nick –I’m too excited! Keep this to yourself, so everyone else doesn’t have the surprise ruined for them, but…I’m sure you’d agree that all things considered, it’d make perfect sense to claim it feels like it has been forever that I’ve known Ms…”
Unfortunately, at that moment, a rude driver cut off a double-decker bus on the busy street in front of the Strand Palace hotel, just as the spirit medium was returning to the outdoor café table she’d just vacated to make this quick phone call. There was a series of angrily blaring honking sounds in the background, which completely drowned out the first name of their extra dining guest that evening.
“…Rudolf.”
“Rudolph? As in the Red Nose Reindeer?” Phoenix joked. “I’m sure your friend will be a glowing addition to our night, ha, ha, ha!”
Glancing impatiently at his watch as his mindless wazzock of a mate continued jabbering away and wasting precious time which could be better spent observing the ongoing trial, the stupefied lawyer was now also officially brassed off! Storming up behind the unsuspecting poker champ, and indifferent to the blatant act of solecism about to be enacted, he reached over and snatched the cell out of his friend’s hand before the Master could reply.
“Hey!”
“Sorry to cut you off, Maya,” the dyspeptic Miles stated curtly. “You shall have to discuss your new mate’s shiny nose some other time, as we are about to go into the courtroom, where mobiles are strictly prohibited. We shall give you a bell later.”
Ignoring the spirit medium’s protests, the prosecutor disconnected the call and powered off the card shark’s cell phone, before surrendering it, along with his own, into Jean’s outstretched palm.
“Enough faffing about,” the attorney declared coolly, dismissing the card shark’s affronted expression. “It’s time for us to finally get to the point of our visit, which you were so keen to do up until now! But before we venture into the courtroom, Wright, turn around and have a gander at this painting. Do you notice anything… peculiar?”
“You mean the portrait of that Dracula guy, who is so obviously an ancestor of Manfred’s?” Phoenix asked blankly, his distracted brain too preoccupied with contemplating tonight’s enigmatic dinner guest to pay attention to much else. “Yeah, what about it?”
“Give over, Mr. Wright!” Jean exclaimed in disbelief, while Miles scarcely resisted the urge to shake his imperceptive mate. “You’re winding me up, surely?”
“How I wish he was only having a laugh, Jean.” The tea drinker’s dwindling patience was now totally obliterated. “Wright, kindly remove the wool from your eyes and cast your gaze over to the other painting. Is there truly nothing that’s catching your attention?”
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Phoenix stared at the comely duo in the painting while Miles and Jean watched him expectantly for what seemed like ages, until his eyes finally lit up, and he snapped his fingers.
“Hang on! I see it now!” The anterior legal legend clapped a hand on his forehead. “I can’t believe I missed it!”
The other two regarded him hopefully.
“The guy in the black and white picture the defense attorney is holding – he does sort of resemble you, doesn’t he, Edgeworth? Who knows? Maybe your kin have some Japanese ancestry in your bloodline, just like Maya does!”
A dead silence followed his words, then awkwardly lingered amongst the triad.
Jean was left wholly speechless for a moment, while Miles closed his eyes and mentally counted to 10 to refrain from exasperatedly spewing any pernicious dialogue at the utter prat who was his closest mate.
Well, I suppose it takes a super-duper kind of dumb to miss a clue like this. It’s like giving strawberries to a donkey!
When Jean finally spoke, her cadence indicated that she remained dumbfounded at how blind Phoenix was about his own startling similitude to the man in the painting.
“The man in the picture was named Asōgi Kazuma, Mr. Wright. Asōgi was a dear friend to Ryūnosuke Naruhodō, and the sole reason he became a lawyer. More than likely it’s a sheer coincidence but I guess it could be a possibility…”
“Objection!” Miles interrupted, raising his hand. “Allow me to stop this cockamamie speculation right there! I know my lineage on both parental sides, both of which can be traced back to nothing but Anglo-Saxon England for over a thousand years!”
“Huh. Well, so much for that conjecture!” Phoenix shrugged good-naturedly, mindless to the aghast expressions on his friends’ faces. “Well, time’s a wastin! What say we go check out some British court action, Edgeworth?”
Then he nonchalantly moseyed on into the courtroom, without a care in the world.
Miles and Jean remained out in the hallway, staring after him for the longest time before the former witch broke the silence.
“Has Mr. Wright always been the sort to have the brass neck?” She began hesitantly. “That is, dropping a clanger regularly, and being blinkered to even the most obvious –”
“Yes.” Miles’s tone was rife with resignation.
“So he’s not talking bollocks, then? He really can’t see, at all, that the man in the painting –”
“No.” Miles let out a soundless sigh.
“Cor love a duck!” Her eyes widened incredulously. “How hasn’t he driven you completely mad by now?”
I need to sternly remind myself on a regular basis that I love that man like a brother, ergo all homicidal tendencies which arise are merely fleeting!
“That is a true stumper, I’m afraid,” Miles answered wearily. “One which I’m not even sure the good Professor could solve. I reckon I have nil choice but to simply keep calm and lawyer on.”
Professor…solve…lawyer…
Jean’s still-whirling mind snapped to attention regarding the fascinating mystery that was calling out to her to unravel, and she flashed the lawyer a hasty grin as she began inching away.
“Ha-ha! Indeed! Now then, you go on, and enjoy the trial,” she said quickly, already preoccupied with her underlying mission at hand as she scooted away. “Be sure to come by the archive office, which is down the corridor from the main loos, to retrieve your mobiles when you’re ready to leave. Tara to you, Mr. Edgeworth!”
“Cheers,” Miles responded numbly, still reeling from the latest dismal reminder that his childhood chum was confined to only being a genius in the court… and an utter git in every other aspect of life!
Jean Greyerl and Ridelle Mystere
Old Bailey Archives
July 20, 2026
“Ridelle!”
Rushing back to her office, Jean carelessly flung the door open, uncaring how the loud slamming of the heavy wood against the wall made the unprepared young woman inside nearly leap out of her skin as she dropped the heavy textbooks she’d been organizing onto the desk with a thud at the shrill holler.
“Drop whatever it is you’re working on this instant!” She exigently ordered her colleague her cerise plaited colleague. “We have a top-priority emergency on our hands!”
“Gawd Blimey, Jean!” Ridelle Mystere’s hand fluttered to the front of her high-necked black dress. “Are you trying to scare the bleeding shite out of me, bellowing loud enough to raise the dead?”
“Sorry, but this is important! I need you to go through all the Victorian and Edwardian files in our court and National Archives pertaining to every single lawyer that ever set foot in the Old Bailey during those periods. Start taking notes!”
Ridelle grabbed a pen and notepad and peered at her cohort inquisitively over her spectacles.
“I say! And exactly what will you be doing as I shun my regular librarian duties and fill the role of Dogsbody?”
“I need to contact Sir Layton post-haste! He alone is our sole source with enough clout to access all our nation’s historical societies, and help solve this great lineage mystery that’s sprung up!”
“Why do you get to talk to the Professor?” Ridelle whinged plaintively. “I’m the one he’s better acquainted with, you know! After all, I spent more time with him in Labyrinthia than you did, being the keeper of his beloved puzzles!”
“Stop acting like a spoiled, selfish cow! Don’t tell me you still fancy him after all these years?” Jean scowled darkly at her friend. “Surely you realize how squick it would be for you and him to play a round of How’s Your Father? Since Sir Layton is old enough to be your father?”
“Get stuffed, Jean!” The insulted Ridelle glared at her friend. “There’s no need to get shirty here!”
“Bloody hell! Time is of the essence here, and I shan’t waste another second on such petty buggery!”
Ridelle petulantly folded her arms over her bony chest and continued to look balky, while the green-haired lass blew upward at her fringe in frustration.
“Well then, if it will keep you out of the doldrums, I’ll have a dekko through the old files while you ring him!” Jean acquiesced with a sigh. “All that matters is securing the aid of Sir Hershel Layton! He’s the only one who can solve this complex puzzle about Phoenix Wright’s ancestry!”
Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright
Old Bailey, Court Two
July 20, 2026
The logic genius had discreetly taken the spot beside Phoenix in the center row, which allowed both men a prime view of the trial in progress, which they watched with rapt fascination.
The consuetude of the English court is so much more chivalrous and civilized than American ones! Miles reflected approvingly. There’s no uncouth, loud yelling or any sort of over-the-top theatrics…
Suddenly, the prosecutor let out a booming, impassioned cry that reverberated throughout the eardrums of everybody in the room.
“Nay! This will not do, My Lord!”
“So much for the famous British courtroom civility…” the critical Miles muttered in an undertone, but the engrossed Phoenix leaned more forward in his seat and scrutinized the British prosecutor intensely, trying to suss the identity of the man beneath that distracting hairpiece.
That eye-opening, sonorous voice. Now that it’d been raised by several decibels, he was certain he’d been acquainted with it before! And those strangely recognizable movements. He’d seen that smooth, unveiling reach in action before. He was sure of it! But when? Where?
The prosecutor’s shout had been made while he’d been simultaneously reaching into his inner robes, as though searching for something to draw out, but came up empty-handed. He flushed as the judge cocked a quizzical brow.
“Is something troubling you, Barrister?” The magistrate queried politely. “Whatever were you searching for?”
“Methinks my learned friend is suffering from a case of old habits die hard,” mocked the defense, a spindly man with a reed-thin voice and slightly twitchy eye. “At times he needs to remember his conduct in civilized court and not reflexively reach for a long ago abandoned weapon from days of yore…”
“That’s enough, Mr. Spudley,” the judge ordered sternly, then swiftly corrected himself. “Beg your pardon – Mr. Knightle.” He cleared his throat. “Apologies, it seems I’m also doomed to make numerous gaffes with your numerous surnames before I finally get it correct! At least I didn’t call you Mr. Ignitle this time! Oh, ho-ho! I suppose the prosecution isn’t the only one to fall victim to old habits!”
“I only had three alternative names temporarily, whilst trying to find myself back in the day!” Knightle sulked to himself. “Must I endure this indignity each and every trial?!”
Belatedly realizing the futility of his robe search, which had made him look the fool, the animated barrister now raised a hand over his head, then heavily thumped his fist on the bench before him, bringing back everyone’s attention to his initial grievance with the opposition.
Phoenix’s jaw dropped to his chest as it dawned on him that even with the goofy wig, not only did he know the true identity of the failed Labyrinthian knight from yesteryear, but he was now positive he’d seen the other barrister’s single fist desk slam somewhere before!
“My Lord, I must object to this line of questioning!” The prosecutor’s heated gaze met that of the slightly quivering defense council. “My learned friend is leading the witness!”
“Sustained. Yes, Mr. Whatley – er, Knightle. Please change your line of questioning or rephrase the question.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
The prosecutor bowed chivalrously, in a much more sweeping and grand gesture than even Miles Edgeworth himself ever had, and that was what fully jogged Phoenix’s memory at last.
He knew this man, alright! However, the last time he’d seen that distinctive fist slam down, it’d been accompanied by the heavy clank of armor! And the item brandished from the side had been a broadsword!
“Edgeworth!” He whispered urgently in his friend’s ear. “I know that prosecutor!”
“Are you certain?” Miles whispered back. “They are supposed to be undiscernible in those wigs!”
“Trust me, I’d recognize the ministrations of the only opposition I’ve ever had who was more melodramatic with his motions than I was, any day! That man is none other than former Labyrinthian knight, Sir Zacharias Barnham!”
Maya Fey
Strand Palace Hotel
Sacred Café London
July 20, 2026
Maya was still peeved at Miles’s audacity as she headed back to the table where her cousin was chattering away with their new friend, just as they had been doing all morning, ever since she’d kissed Phoenix goodbye before he’d gone off to the courthouse.
I cannot believe Mr. Supposedly Well-Mannered Prosecutor disconnected my call like that! She fumed, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. And right in the middle of my fun game of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner!” The nerve of him! How rude!
Shortly after Pearl had entered the scene in the midst of Maya’s accosting the unsuspecting “Franziska,” the cousins had since been joined by a lovely blonde teenage girl, around the teen spirit medium’s age, who now was animatedly engaged in the conversation as apparently having taken to the younger Fey like a duck to water.
“Meine Güte, Maya,” Dr. Katharina Rudolf’s eyes were filled with amusement. “You were gone so long in the loo, we thought you’d fallen in!”
Maya’s mind raced to come up with an acceptable response to the teasing jibe about her prolonged absence when she’d snuck in her call to Phoenix about her secret dinner plans, under the ruse of needing the loo.
Terrified that Franziska’s lookalike sister would fly out of there like a bat out of hell if she’d known about the existence of her former brother-in-law amongst their group, (figuring it would be too late to escape once Miles and Katharina were sprung upon each other in a public restaurant), Maya had neatly avoided mentioning the prosecutor at all, thus far! She hadn’t even brought up her ulterior strategy of including the psychologist in their evening dinner plans to the woman herself just yet!
All she knew was that the elder Von Karma sibling was the key to locating her missing friend – but that if she pushed too hard, she’d only scare her away! It was already a divine miracle the poor Frau hadn’t been driven off right after their crazed impromptu meeting three hours ago…which had stemmed from a beyond mortifying case of mistaken identity!
Earlier that morning…
Maya Fey and Katharina Rudolf
Strand Palace Hotel
Sacred Café, London
July 20, 2026
“The mean whipping lady?” The mysterious female lowered her sunglasses down her nose again to stare at Pearl with an indecipherable expression. “I assume, Miss, that you are referring to my younger sister, Franziska, whom this woman…” She pointed across the table at the visibly flustered Maya. “Has apparently mistaken me for?”
“Y – Your sister?” The girl stammered, turning bright red as she realized her embarrassing slip of the tongue. “Um, sorry, I didn’t mean it quite the way that came out, ma’am…”
“Sure you did!” The woman teased, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “No offense taken though, dear girl! I love my baby sister, but having known Franziska all her life, am also more than aware of that infamous temper of hers, which makes her…an acquired taste, shall we say? Although for what it’s worth, I assure you, she has certainly mellowed with age. Of course, there was no other way for her to go!”
She smiled warmly at the still-blushing teen and waved a graceful hand at the vacant spot beside her, extending her free one to the acolyte, who shook it awkwardly.
“You can stop seeming so worried that you offended my delicate sensibilities, love. I know how outspoken teenagers can be since I have a daughter about your age. But just to set the record straight, I am not Franziska Von Karma. I am her sister, Katharina Rudolf.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Katharina.” Pearl was beyond relieved to have been forgiven for her blunder. “I’m Pearl, and this is my cousin, Maya. She’s a good friend of Miss Franziska, and obviously cares a lot about your sister since she ran across a busy street for her! Mystic Maya never runs for anything – except maybe burgers…”
Katharina turned to the elder Fey, who mutely nodded her acknowledgment at this slightly embarrassing revelation, and let out a silvery peal of laughter.
“Oh, you are just too precious, Pearl!” Katharina removed her sunglasses entirely then, leaving her mien in fully clear view, so the Feys could see the visible mirth on her face. “You just can’t stop divulging the real truth about anything, even though you’re so endearingly polite about it! I wish Anneliese were here right now – you two would get along famously.”
“I never really learned how to lie,” the lass admitted, biting her thumb. “Still, my apologies for insulting Miss Franziska. I should have known you were related to her. After all, you do look a bit alike…”
“A bit alike?” Maya blurted out, gawking in unmasked fascination at the breathtaking woman seated across from her. “No … Elijah Wood and Daniel Radcliffe look a bit alike! I apologize as well for my earlier insanity when mistaking you for Franziska, Katharina, but while I knew she had a sister, I never knew the two of you were essentially twins!”
“Twins? Quite impossible, as I can show you.”
Katharina tittered as she lifted her sunhat, revealing not argentate tresses like her sibling’s beneath, but a head of shiny ash blonde hair pulled back at the nape. Carefully replacing the wide-brimmed hat in place, she smilingly gave a rueful shake of her head.
“Nonetheless, I am beyond flattered that you thought an old hag like me could be any sort of doppelgänger to my Schöne kleine Schwester … Considering I am 10 years older than she is!”
Both Feys stared at the self-effacing beauty with matching expressions of comical incredulity.
Old hag?! A decade older?!
Now that Maya could fully make out Katharina’s ethereal visage without the shades obstructing it, she was blown away by the German beauty’s modesty about her own pulchritude, and could also make out the distinguishing differences that set the two sisters apart.
For a woman that was closer to 40 rather than presumed late 20’s, there wasn’t even the faintest wrinkle or even fine line marring any part of Katharina’s flawless peaches and cream complexion, which she shared with Franziska. And while both kinswomen had identical fine bone structures and classically sculpted features, upon closer inspection, one could see the biggest difference between the sisters was in their eyes. While the same shape and color, the elder sibling’s orbs, which were the soft grey of a signet on the Thames, but with the lustrous sheen of polished opals, bore none of the stern coldness that the younger Von Karma’s were renowned for. Instead, there was a wise, gentle kindness to them. On top of that, her Cupid’s bow lips were relaxed, obviously much more accustomed to smiling rather than scowling, and her countenance was open and inviting, not aloof or shuttered to mask the revealing of any sort of emotion. Katharina Rudolf was essentially a blonde, more serene, softer version of the beautiful Franziska Von Karma… whenever she chose to let her guard down – which of course, was next to never!
“Blow me down with a feather! You’re a decade than me and Franziska?” Maya gaped at Katharina. “Inconceivable! Either you are genetically blessed and I’m super jealous and I hate you, or you have got to tell me the name of the moisturizer you use since it seems to have droplets from the fountain of youth … or the sacrificial blood of 1000 virgins mixed within it!”
Katharina emitted another tinkly laugh at the Master’s over-the-top compliment, while secretly thinking that although Maya was in her late 20’s, like her sister, she didn’t look much older than a high school girl, ergo if she were to get any younger looking, she’d surely resemble a minor!
“You flatter me too much, dear! The experts always say that laughter is the key to being forever young, and if this is the truth, then you ladies have at least set me back to my schoolgirl days these last few minutes alone, as I have not laughed this hard in eons! To think I imagined coming here for a week-long psychology conference would be uneventful and dull as dishwater!”
“So that’s why you’re here in London?” Pearl’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “You’re a psychologist?”
“Indeed I am, Pearl. I have not been to England in ages, and Anneliese has never been here at all. This trip was supposed to be a combination of business and pleasure, as whatever free time I had when I was not scheduled to be at the seminars was supposed to be spent touring about. Moreover, if I am fortunate enough, that shall include reunions and some family bonding time…”
Her voice trailed off as though she realized her unwitting slip of the tongue. She flushed slightly, then took a long sip of her tea.
Family bonding? The village leader sat up straighter in her chair, her pulse beginning to race with excitement. Reunion?
The good Doctor had already indicated she was there in England with her daughter, so what other family could she possibly have alluded to getting reunited with – other than the long sought-after Franziska herself?
Katharina looked distinctly uncomfortable as Maya leaned across the table, even though she tried to keep her voice casual, as the speculative gleam in the spirit medium’s eye was impossible to miss.
“Getting time to connect with family can be rare at times, but is just wonderful isn’t it?” She gushed with her most disarming grin. “Pearly and I came here to assist with some business matters as well, but also to spend some time together and enjoy some sightseeing. Believe me, I can understand having to squeeze in that girly bonding time wherever possible! I know we only happened to meet each other by happenstance Katharina, but we would love to have you and your daughter join us for some sightseeing! We’ve both previously been here to London recently, and Pearly’s boyfriend resides here and we’d all be the perfect tour guides!”
The warmth on the blonde’s phizog faded, and she turned away slightly.
“Danke, Maya, but as nice as your offer is, I am unsure if I will have as much free time as I would like.” Katharina peeked at her watch. “In fact, perhaps I should head back to my hotel now and check on Anneliese…”
Instantly, the cousins heard the loud rattling of two chained psyche locks slamming into place over her chest, invisible to the human eye except to the holders of the magatama.
Maya’s stomach dropped. No! She couldn’t let Katharina disappear now! Not when she was the sole key to locating the runaway Von Karma sibling!
“Which way are you headed?” She asked desperately. “Pearly and I were just about to head out and see some shops … Maybe we could all take a taxi together?”
“That will not be necessary, as the Radisson Blu Portman is merely walking distance away…” Katharina hedged, eyeing the elder Fey with wary orbs now. “How was it you ladies happened to know my sister again?”
Maya recognized the protective vibe emanating from the psychologist at this point, as the novelty of their chance encounter seem to have worn off now and it was changing her entire persona from gregarious to visibly guarded. Reality was now kicking in for the Doc, accompanied by the suspicious pondering of just who the hell these strangers claiming to be chummy with her only sister actually were!
Crap baskets! I guess the close-lipped Franziska never mentioned to Katharina that we were friends – let alone that I came and visited last spring! I guess anybody could come along and claim to know the famous whip-happy prosecutor…she’s worried I’m some sort of weirdo stalker now! Big Sis is now probably wondering if there’s a reason her little sister has been dodging me in the first place! How am I going to prove that I’ve been telling her the truth this whole time?!
“Heiliger Strohsack! You’re Maya Fey!” A girl’s voice squealed just then, from out of the blue. “Mama! How do you know her?!”
The three new friends simultaneously raised their heads to see the latest addition to their party; a pretty, fair-haired teen who was unmistakably nothing but pure Von Karma in appearance.
“Look who has decided to wake up at last!” The psychologist beamed and pulled out the chair beside her. “Maya, Pearl, this is the previously mentioned Anneliese, who has finally decided to roll out of bed and join the land of the living.”
Katharina’s mini-me playfully stuck out her tongue at her mother for such an introduction, then grinned and waved at the brunettes in greeting.
“Anneliese, apparently these young ladies know your Tante Franziska…?” The slightly skeptical air with which the sentence was phrased was impossible to miss. “And evidently you somehow know Maya … Fey, you said?”
“Ach, nee, Mama! Of course, I know who she is! Everybody does! Do you not pay attention to anything besides your work at all?” Anneliese shook her head and rolled her eyes in typical teenage fashion. “Fräulein Fey is that wundervoll singer from the video last month! I must have shown it to you at least half a dozen times!”
The German teen’s hazel eyes lit up at the sight of Pearl.
“I remember seeing you in that video too! Of course, your hair was down then, not tied up like it is right now… Which I love, by the way! How do you get it into those adorable little loops?”
“My hair is really long, so that makes it easier, but I think it has a memory of its own at this point,” Pearl replied shyly, although her cheeks were flushed pink with pleasure at the other girl’s friendliness. “I only need to twirl the loops into shape with my finger and then secure them with bobby pins. By the way, I love your pink sundress! I have one just like it, but in lavender.”
Like a couple of chittering chipmunks, the two teens began happily nattering away, as though they’d known each other for ages.
“Maya Fey … as in the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique?” Katharina asked in surprise as she studied the village leader’s face. “I apologize for not identifying you initially, although your name is recognizable, especially now that my daughter has reminded me you are an online singing sensation! I am trying to ascertain how I know you by your full name though – it is not because I am up to speed with your work as a spirit medium. I think I had heard it long before then, although I cannot quite place where, when, or why it now rings a memorable bell…”
“You desperately need to put down those boring psychology books and pick up a newspaper or tabloid every once in a while, Mama!” Anneliese interrupted, abruptly pausing her side conversation with Pearl about the latest summer fashions. “You undoubtedly have heard her name through Onkle Miles or Tante Franziska, both whom Fräulein Fey is most assuredly acquainted with since they each prosecuted her for murder!”
“Murder?!” Katharina’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls and Maya immediately intervened before her new well-meaning ‘defense attorney’ uttered another incriminating word!
“I was wrongfully accused and found not guilty both times! It’s all water under the bridge! I bare no grudges against Mr. Edgeworth or Franziska whatsoever!” She said quickly, hoping to dispel any thought that she might be a disgruntled former defendant who was hunting for Katharina’s sister for revenge purposes. “In fact, just last year I went by the Von Karma mansion to visit your sister. I’ve been meaning to ask you how you ladies stayed so slim if you grew up eating the lecker cooking of that culinary genius that is Helga! Her strudels are absolutely to die for!”
“You know Helga?” One Psyche lock next to Katharina’s heart began to rattle loudly upon hearing this validating statement. “Our head family maid?”
“And Hans, too!” The diviner nodded earnestly. “I even went for a tour out in the stables and met Thor, Franziska’s childhood horse!”
The quivering Psyche lock shattered, indicating the elder Von Karma sibling was fully convinced that Maya’s proclaimed friendship with her sister was no farce. However one lock remained, and the Master wasn’t quite sure how or if she would be able to break it, considering she was positive it was in correlation to this cryptic person with whom Katharina was scheduled to have a London reunion!
The only way the psychic would ever get the answers she was seeking was to form a connection with the kindhearted psychologist, and eventually, earn her trust enough to gain the information she was so fervently seeking – for Miles’s sake as well as her own! And the best way to do so was to make sure she didn’t let the woman out of her sight – or at least make Katharina feel that even if she wished to leave, she’d still have no choice but to stay!
But how in Mystic Ami’s name am I going to guarantee that?! She wondered agonizingly. If Franziska Von Karma was ever the Wild Mare, then her sister, while more approachable, is surely the more Skittish Filly!
As she observed her normally sullen teenage daughter cheerfully chatting away with Pearl, the psychologist had never before felt so torn. There was no way anybody but a heartless monster would be quick to break up the endearing bond the two girls had unmistakably formed.
A happy Anneliese meant a happy Katharina. As a mother, she would do anything to make sure that smile, which had become more and more of a rare thing over the years, never left her daughter’s lovely face. Moreover, she genuinely liked Maya and Pearl. Spending more time with them was scarcely a hardship.
Maya Fey was no phony. She obviously considered herself to be a good friend of her sister’s, and although seemingly hurt and confused at being shunned by Franziska this past year, it was obvious she still cared for her deeply.
My Little One has been so lost and alone for this past year, Katharina despaired as she wrestled with her conscience. She needs to know there are people out there who care for her and her well-being… But if I place her and Maya in each other’s paths, there’s no telling how my temperamental sister will react! She may never forgive me for betraying her trust! I wish I knew what to do…
Detective Tyrell Badd
Germany
July 20, 2026
I tried to be perfect
But nothing was worth it
I don’t believe it makes me real
I thought it’d be easy
But no one believes me
I meant all the things I said
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!”
The distressed cry from the four-legged canine was even louder than the morose lyrics blaring from the other room, startling the engrossed detective from his intense inspection of video surveillance.
“Christ on a jet ski! Not this shit again!”
Detective Badd slammed his palm heavily onto his computer desk as he heard the agonized whimper of the golden retriever in the doorway of his office, who had obviously sought solace with her Uncle due to the overly morose music sounding from her mother’s office.
If you believe it’s in my soul
I’d say all the words that I know
Just to see if it would show
That I’m trying to let you know
That I’m better off on my own
“ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!” Pess whimpered, padding into the room and flopping herself at the brawny man’s feet, then gazing up at him pleadingly with her soulful dark eyes, as if silently begging him to save her from any more depressing lyrics which Franziska had become infamous for.
“Don’t you worry girl,” he cooed with uncharacteristic gentleness as he lovingly stroked the dog’s silky ears. “Uncle Badd is going to go take care of this wicked torture to both of our ears, and then as soon as your Mommy is gone, it will be nothing but energizing hard rock – the classics like KISS and AC/DC – none of that Gavinners boy band crap that’s trying to impersonate real music!”
This place is so empty
My thoughts are so tempting
I don’t know how it got so bad
Sometimes it’s so crazy
That nothing can save me
But it’s the only thing that I have
Pess stuck her tongue out into a huge grin, then licked his hand as if to convey her gratitude for this promise.
If you believe it’s in my soul
I’d say all the words that I know
Just to see if it would show
That I’m trying to let you know
That I’m better off on my own
Muttering profanities to himself, Badd stormed into the office next door, with Pess hot on his heels. Then, without preamble or bothering to greet the woman frowning at the computer monitor on her desk, marched over to the wall which the stereo was plugged into and yanked out the wire right from the socket, abruptly leaving the room in unprecedented silence.
Franziska’s head jerked up with a start, her slate eyes narrowing into tiny slits at such unforgivable boorishness.
“Donnerwetter! How dare you!” If looks could kill the old man would’ve been worm chow – the Interpol agent’s glare was that lethal. “You foolish fool! You have a lot of nerve, manhandling my possessions and just marching into my room as if you own the place!”
“Reminder, Nurse Ratchet, this is my house! Therefore I do own the place, even if this is your office.” The completely unapologetic Badd folded his arms over his wide chest and stared her down. “I never dreamed the day would come when I would say this… But give me the disheartening tunes of Nina Simone any day over whatever dismal track you’re listening to now! What in the name of arse possessed you to think that miserable music was an improvement?”
“You just love to grumble, old man!” Franziska defiantly folded her arms across her chest. “Who died and made you a music critic? Do I ever complain about that noise pollution rock ‘n roll that you insist on playing?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear such blasphemy,” Badd said darkly, then jutted his chin at the golden mass of fur beside him. “But for the record, this latest ditty was over the top on the sorrowful scale! It was even depressing to the dog!”
Pess let out a short wail of agreement, then theatrically flopped, belly-first, down to the floor and clapped a paw over her eyes.
Despite her annoyance, Franziska’s lips twitched into a barely suppressed amused smile at her furry daughter’s melodramatic antics. Badd instinctively took this opportunity to further make his point.
“Why in Sam Hill are you down in the dumps anyway, Franziska? Shouldn’t you be happy for a change, and hence, listening to something more upbeat to lift your high spirits?” He demanded. “Since you’re going to be reunited with your family in London tomorrow? The same sister and niece whom you’ve not seen for over a year now?!”
“I am very much looking forward to being reunited with Katharina and Anneliese,” she replied staunchly. “It is just that I have pressing duties that need to be resolved before I head over to England. You should know that I take my new position as Interpol’s Case Analyst & Profiler very seriously.”
“Listen girlie, I’m as happy as a clam about your promotion, even though it bogged me down with the newfound dual role of surveillance as well as your previous data mining duties! But you’re going to be gone for at least a week and you haven’t even packed! And you do know they have Interpol offices in London that your workaholic behind can go to, right?”
Despite his ribbing, the Detective was genuinely proud of Franziska for finding something fresh to pour her heart and soul into, as merely data mining through the mountains of information surrounding the sting operation had not been anywhere challenging enough for someone of her genius level. Luckily, Agent Lang had actually taken Badd’s recommendation to heart and also recognized that her former work as a prosecutor had given the German a keen knack for figuring out details about criminals by gathering information from the crime scenes and analyzing everything she found.
“I have packed,” she answered distractedly, her sharp eyes zeroing in on a particularly glaring item on the screen. “You have no idea what you are talking about, as usual.”
“One change of clothing and two whips does not count as packing when you’re going to be gone for a whole week!”
“You have the nerve to spy and sift through my things?” The German raged. “And for your kind information, one outfit and backups of my weapon of choice is more than enough!”
“Yes I did snoop and I’ll do it again!” Badd snapped back. “Because I care about you, kid, and you’re turning into an old maid before my very eyes! You’re still so young – yet you never smile or leave this house! That in itself is even more depressing than all the whiny, crybaby music you’ve forced me to listen to every day for this past year, combined!”
Franziska sucked in a sharp breath at the painful weight of his truthful words. In the past, she had whipped people for saying much less insolent things. But Tyrell Badd was one of the few people who had never tasted her whip and probably never would. They both knew that in spite of her lofty exterior, she loved this gruff old man with all her heart. He was the father she’d never had.
Which is why his observation stung so much.
“Take this trip as a chance to finally get out and enjoy your life!” He urged, his tone gentler now. “Franziska, this trip to London is supposed to be your vacation – now start acting like it! What if your sister and niece want to go out to some fancy restaurants or the theater in England? How are you going to be sure that you’re dressed accordingly with only one extra set of clothing? Were you not planning on enjoying any time with them at all? Or were you just going to be using this trip as an excuse to work some more but just in another country?”
“Fine! You win, you fool! Stop your incessant yapping!” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “I shall go pack a couple of pairs of shoes and perhaps a cocktail dress as well… As soon as I take care of this one last detail!”
“Sounds good. I threw a couple of T-bones on the barbecue for lunch and they’re nearly ready. I’ll see you out on the patio in 20 minutes.”
The dog let out a pleading whimper, and his harsh features softened along with his tone as he reached down and scratched her head.
“Yes, Pess, you get to chew the bone afterward,” he told her tenderly as the dog happily wagged her tail. “Because you’re such a good girl!”
“Stop spoiling my daughter!” Franziska laughed indulgently as Pess and Badd left the room. “She will not eat her own food if you keep sneaking her steaks! I have seen how much meat you leave for her on those discarded bones, you foolish fool!”
Hearing no retort or refuting of the allegation, she smirked to herself, then went back to zero in on the attention-grabbing article she’d noticed earlier.
“Everybody from Ku’s circle that was killed has had their body accounted for… up till now,” she murmured to herself, a frown of concentration creasing her brow as she tapped the monitor with a gloved finger. “All except for this person. But that makes no sense?!”
Picking up the phone on her desk, she dialed the familiar number and once she heard the voice on the other end of the line, swiftly relayed her newfound concerns about her disturbing speculations.
“That’s impossible! There’s no way in hell they could still be alive!” Shi-Long Lang barked, a hint of panic underlying the dubiousness in his harsh tone. “But if you’re right about this Franziska… Heads will roll. And they will be ours!”
A/N: Pleeeeeease don’t hate for being such a tease about Franziska last chapter, but as one of my readers asked… Maya found her already?! I couldn’t have it be THAT easy, (W)right? I hope the discovery of Franny’s near doppelgänger sis Katharina wasn’t too much of a letdown, considering with whom her storyline is going to entwine! As you saw at the end of this chapter… We still saw the actual real runaway German lady as we segue into Miles-town…and shizz is about to get intense! Thanks to mi amiga musical, DannyDragon, for the song choice!
German Translations:
Holla, die Waldfee!
This curious expression literally means “Holla, the wood fairy”. It can be used both as an exclamation of astonishment and to insinuate that something is ridiculous.
Meine Güte!
My goodness!
Ach du grüne Neune!
This slightly antiquated expression literally means “oh you green nine!”, or “oh, my goodness!”
Sum 41 – Pieces
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