55 The Edge Of Misanthropy

“The worst thing you can be is a coward, to the self, to others, to Mother Earth. The coward will sacrifice anything to save the physical self, even at the price of emotional death; they are willing to become a monster, to let the dark self live where their true self once did. So be determined, my love – brave, yet never fool-hardy. Stay alive, be healthy and love with all your heart but stay on the road that is empathy and compassion, love and fraternity with a determination that will take death over failure. Have the spirit of a child, yet the nobility of a true warrior, always protective and kind.”

Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth
October 12, 2024, 7:45 AM

For the past five years, Phoenix had been lulled into a somewhat sense of security and contentment in life. Things weren’t perfect of course, but his life wasn’t completely horrible.

He’d faked his way so well into the role of musician that he actually was now deemed a somewhat passable pianist at work and thence, now rarely got booed from the crowd. Henceforth, he hadn’t needed to placate them with his singing all that often.

On top of that, he’d remained undefeated as a poker player – mostly due of course, to Trucy’s special talents. Money-wise, things were OK, albeit not great, between the income of her magician job as well as his own. The Gumshoes were still doting extended family to them both, and he’d kept in regular email correspondence with Edgeworth, even hearing the occasional phone call from him too, which was always a pleasure. Most of all, thanks to the kindness of his best friend, he had a safe house where he could spend at least two weekends a month, (and sometimes more!) with the love of his life.

There were times when the former attorney would be lying there in that obscenely large bed, breathing in Maya’s familiar fragrant scent as he stroked the long, glorious, ebony hair that he so loved to caress, and he wondered if he wasn’t insane to be keeping his girlfriend still in hiding all this time; if he shouldn’t just have Trucy meet her “future Mommy.” After all, Edgeworth, despite having “feelers” out there concerning the Gavins had yet to come up with anything conclusive – he’d even told him a couple of years ago to ease back on investigating, despite Edgeworth’s frustrated protests that he was being a simpleton about the whole thing and was allowing himself to fall victim of being overly complacent.

However, the DILF remained stubborn on the matter. Life was alright for him right now, and he’d resigned himself, somewhat, to let sleeping dogs lie – for now, anyway. He didn’t want his best friend to be wasting his precious time and efforts for naught and was certain if there had been anything worth finding of the Gavins, surely something would have come up by now, or he would have found out through his own subtle researching.

He wasn’t particularly forthcoming or amicable with respect to his own ‘investigations’. Oh, he’d shared what he’d learned with the prosecutor for a time, but irrationally, he ultimately hesitated regarding the blond man.

Over the years, the card shark hadn’t seen much of Kristoph at all; perhaps once or twice every quarter at his bar if that, since the day he’d convinced the German that he and Maya were ancient history. The German’s absence in his life dimmed his initial doubt somewhat; while his gut still gave him misgivings about the defense attorney, Phoenix wondered at times if he’d been irrational for thinking the worst of the other man.

The ever-suspicious Edgeworth was certain Kristoph had framed the anterior defense lawyer, despite there being no conclusive proof or evidence. He appeared to be struggling with the comprehension of his childhood friend’s reluctance to pin absolute blame on the sinister German.

We haven’t got total proof, maybe he didn’t do it, the spiky-haired man had gamely persisted, which completely irritated Edgeworth, even though he thought he understood.

Ultimately, despite the curveballs and hardships he’d endured, the painful truth was that the hobo had somehow still managed to maintain much of his old naïve, trusting streak; still held out with some vague faith or hope that perhaps unconfirmed damaging allegations against people weren’t true – maybe not everyone’s motivations were truly malevolent.

Anguished heart attack is tightly packed onto people with actions full of emotions and personal tragedies, yet they can overcome it with personal self-esteem and nice thinking.

In the depths of his psyche, which his bursts of love and joy with Maya and Trucy allowed him mostly suppress, Phoenix knew Kristoph was a murderous betrayer. However, his unassuming heart still clung to the last remnant of what Edgeworth curtly referred to as his Platonist idealism; his desperate need to believe that sometimes people weren’t driven exclusively by individual advantage and that maybe one ‘friend’ really did believe in giving him a chance. It was somehow symbolic, that idealistic streak of his worldview, which he knew he was losing, but was reluctant to do so.

Until then, the pianist had maintained the passion he’d had as a defense attorney; kept that trait of his ever since even though he was a lawyer no longer because he’d always wanted –no, needed – to have faith in the conceivable good in people. He was still largely in renunciation because deep down, he knew he neither could nor should, anymore … But he so badly wanted to postpone the bitter acknowledgment that the idealism had been crushed out of him, that his attitude to humanity and its motivations were now cynical and negative by default.

Despite all the bad days and mean people, I still believe in good days and kind people.  Plus, there are always dogs…

The last time they’d spoken on the phone, he and Edgeworth had gotten into a brief head-butting reminiscent of their courtroom days.

“God’s blood, Wright! You know that I know that you know that I know that Gavin did it!”

“We don’t know that for sure!” The poker champ stated for the trillionth time with a sigh, as he gently rolled away from the embrace of the still-slumbering Maya and tiptoed into the bathroom for privacy. “Evidence is everything, remember? And until we have it, this nothing more than pure conjecture.”

I cannot convict a man based on the fact that he favors random stalker-themed songs by The Police and overall gave me the heebie-jeebies with his constantly knowing of my whereabouts at one point. Lots of people freaked me out in the past! Dr. Hotti the fake! Jean Armstrong the fake Frenchman! And they were harmless! Sure, they make you queasy to talk to or look at them, but it doesn’t make them crazed criminals….

“Cease this tommyrot! Of course, he did it, you fool!” The slate-haired man snapped in frustration. “Either that or you did it! Or are you attempting to merely dispel your own guilt?”

The words stung like a slap.

“I thought you of all people, believed in me, Edgeworth.”

“I believe you’re so merrily, madly in love, and basking in the glow of your weekends at the love shack that you’ve got willing blinders on,” the former Demon Prosecutor replied curtly. “Either that or you’ve just flat-out gone mad!”

“Maya has nothing to do with my desire to just want to let things be for now!” The card shark exclaimed with exasperation, although not completely convincingly. “Forgive me for not sharing your prosecutor’s constant state of suspicion and overall belief that everyone in the world sucks and is out to get me all for the sake of their own personal gain and vendetta!”

While it wasn’t entirely untrue that his girlfriend was mostly in the dark about the Kristoph Gavin situation, she was also still his very last beacon of hope, his last tangible piece of something pure and good from his old life, which had kept him from falling back into that wallowing, self-pitying, misanthrope he’d immediately been post-disbarring.

“That’s a load of malarkey, and we both know it!” Edgeworth grumbled. “This incomprehensible,

trite level of Pollyannaism and naïveté was somewhat endearing in your 20’s, Wright, but you’re in your 30’s now! You can still be a good father and boyfriend even if you finally break those blasted rose-colored glasses of yours!”

The hobo knew it took a lot to make his calm, level-headed best friend become this riled up, and he felt terrible about being the cause of it. Even if he didn’t fully agree with him, he was touched that Edgeworth cared so much.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult, and I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I know you only have my own best interests at heart and are only trying to help.”

“Forget it, Wright.” The logic genius sighed too; he was way beyond holding onto resentments. “It’s fine … while I’m happy for my part in helping you and Miss Fey get some of the happiness you surely deserve, it is only a Band-Aid solution to your underlying situation, not a long-term one! I dreadfully sense the years have made you forget the fact that there was a preliminary reason you needed to maintain the secret of this clandestine love affair of yours!”

That stung even more than the first remark. He revered the prosecutor’s friendship so much because he’d always given it to Phoenix straight, even if it was painful. Alas … Didn’t the truth always hurt?

“You’re right,” he admitted quietly. “Indeed, to some degree, I know that I’ve just been purposefully duping myself. That’s because I’ve accepted an even harsher truth than any that you could ever dish out at me, old friend.”

“Really, and whatever would that be?” Edgeworth demanded, sounding surprised at the abrupt change in his tone.

“I have to accept I won’t ever clear my name,” the pianist stated flatly. “I am 90% sure, although not completely beyond a reasonable doubt, that Kristoph did it; just as much as I also realize that there’s nada you or I can do to legally prove it. Nothing. I’ve wasted all this time and had all this paranoia and now I’m trapped. And why? For what purpose?”

The cravat wearer started at the suddenly resigned desolateness in his friend’s tone. Good Lord, what had he done?

“Listen, Wright…” he began awkwardly, but the anterior defense lawyer cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter, Edgeworth. Because even if I did become an attorney again, I could never again fully believe in my clients. Not really.”

And it was these last, desolate words ringing in the chess lover’s ear that the gloomy, and evidently not as gullible as initially perceived Phoenix Wright then murmured his final words of goodbye and rang off.

The startled legal eagle sat there, still holding the cell in his hand, feeling not at all mollified that he’d forced his friend to see the light. Had he been wrong to try to crack Phoenix’s idealistic, sanguine streak after all? Had he, somehow in his desperation to ensure his best friend didn’t become completely delusional to the grim reality of his plight, broken the other man’s spirit entirely? Because that had never been his intention!

Well, as stubborn as Phoenix Wright was – after all, this was the same man who had ingested

poison for his serial killer ex-girlfriend, despite all the glaring evidence before his face that Dahlia not only betrayed him but tried to kill him! – he wasn’t the only one who could be steadfast with his stubborn beliefs.

A few weeks later, Edgeworth was back to investigating Wright’s case, but to Phoenix himself, he left this obscured.

After all, what would be the point?

Once Phoenix Wright made up his thick-skulled, mulish mind about something, not even the hounds of hell could move him to change it – sometimes, not until it was too late.