Chapter 89: A Trial of Identities

Words : 1400 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Chapter 89: A Trial of IdentitiesI stared at the envelope in my hands, a sinking feeling settling deep in my stomach. Jury duty. For a case happening in one week. That wasn't normal. Jury duty summons usually arrived weeks, sometimes months in advance. This wasn't just expedited—it was deliberate. Someone wanted me in that courtroom, and they wanted me there fast. I exhaled sharply. It didn't matter. Whether it was a coincidence or a setup, I couldn't refuse. That would raise more suspicion. I grabbed a pen, signed the confirmation, and dropped it into the return mail slot. Done. Now I just had to survive the week ahead. The Week Before the Trial The following days were a blur of preparation. By day, I read through endless legal texts, case precedents, and courtroom procedures. The knowledge I had gained from my Case Precedent skill made things easier, but I needed more. By night, I drilled the girls in their roles. Sienna worked on Mr. Fox's presence, keeping her movements sharp and confident while cutting down on the theatrical hero talk. Camille learned to dim herself, walking with the kind of forgettable presence that made Mr. Dust blend into a crowd rather than stand out. Alexis was the biggest problem. She had the hardest time adjusting to Mr. Angel's messianic detachment. Every now and then, she would break character, giggling about how absurd it was. Worse, she kept wondering aloud if she could extract DNA from the mask to run tests. "Alexis," I sighed for the fifth time that night. "What?" she grinned. "I'm just saying—if this mask has any biological traces—" "You're supposed to be a divine figure beyond human reach, not a scientist looking for test subjects." "Can't I be both?" I rubbed my temple. This was going to take longer than expected. But despite the difficulties, by the end of the week, they were getting better. The case was in 3 weeks. I had time. Or at least, I thought I did. The Day of the Jury Summons The courthouse loomed ahead, a towering structure of cold stone and steel. I adjusted my jacket, my mask safely tucked away at home. Today, I wasn't Mr. Angel, Mr. Dust, or Mr. Fox. Today, I was just Reynard Vale. I stepped inside, the air heavy with tension. And then I saw him. Damian Voss. The man stood near the entrance, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, polished shoes, and slender-framed glasses. His posture was rigid, deliberate. Even just standing there, he exuded authority—like a judge already prepared to hand down a final decision. His sharp gaze flicked toward me. And then, he scowled. I said nothing as I approached, but he was already speaking, his voice laced with disdain. "Aren't you that B-Rank construction worker? They let you be on a jury?" I kept my expression neutral. "I guess I got lucky." His scowl deepened. "Lucky isn't the word I'd use. A low-ranked worker like you has no business in legal affairs." I held back a smirk. Oh, the irony. Damian had no idea he was talking to an S-Rank in two different professions. He still thought I was just a B-Rank construction worker. And I had no intentions of correcting him. Because as far as the world was concerned, I had gone from F-Rank to B-Rank over the course of a few years. That was plausible. But if they knew I had jumped from B to A-Rank in a single year? That would be impossible. Sienna was the only person I knew who had ever ranked up that fast—but even she had been B-Rank for years before it happened. It took trauma, desperation, and a near-impossible work ethic. If they found out about me? It wouldn't just be suspicious. It would be dangerous. So I played along. I let Damian talk down to me, let him sneer and act superior. Because in the end, it didn't matter. I just needed to complete this case and get out of here as soon as possible. We walked toward the courtroom, his smug expression never wavering. But then— A cold, mature voice cut through the air like a blade. "Reynard Vale." I froze. I knew that voice. I turned, my body instinctively tensing. Standing near a temporary observation station was a woman with blond hair, thin-framed glasses, and a neatly pressed uniform. She held a clipboard in one hand, her sharp eyes moving across the workers with practiced efficiency. Evelyn. My pulse spiked. Despite this being our sixth encounter, she still sent chills down my spine. Because Evelyn wasn't someone I could lie to. With my other identities, I had reasons for my skills. I had excuses. But as Reynard Vale? I had nothing. And the worst part? She was taking me away from Damian. "Come with me," she said briskly, already turning. As I walked alongside Evelyn, every step felt heavier than it should. Not because of the physical strain—Alexis had ensured my body was more than capable—but because of the gnawing realization settling in the back of my mind. I hesitated. "Where are we going?" Her response sent goosebumps down my arms. "We need to confirm the identities of all jurors. We'll be using an evaluation orb." This was bad. Not just bad—checkmate-level bad. For all my preparations, all my careful planning, I had overlooked something critical. The portfolios I relied on so much weren't flawless. They let me hide my skills. They let me mask my true capabilities under different professions. But they weren't built to restore an old version of myself. Right now, I had no Lawyer portfolio. Which meant that when Evelyn scanned me, my new job skills would be fully visible. Legal Analysis. Witness Credibility Assessment. Persuasive Argumentation. None of those belonged to Reynard Vale, the B-Rank Construction Worker. And that was the problem. If she asked me about them—if anyone asked—I had no excuse. No logical reason for a simple construction worker to suddenly have the instincts of a trained attorney. I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral. The system's portfolios worked best for hiding my alternate identities. But when it came to reverting back to an old one? Searᴄh the NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They were practically useless. And the worst part? There was nothing I could do about it now. The evaluation orb was a direct skill verification device. It scanned an individual's job and abilities, ensuring they matched official records. I had no way out. I couldn't run. There were dozens of guards. I couldn't fight. My Hand-to-Hand Combat was still only Level 1. At worst? I'd be arrested on the spot. At best? My entire identity would be exposed before the case even started. Everything would fall apart. I swallowed hard as I stepped into the room. A glowing blue orb sat in the center, pulsing faintly. I forced my breathing to steady as I pulled out my Reynard Vale Identity Card and handed it over. She scanned it. A moment passed. Then she frowned. My official records should have shown my old Construction Worker skills. (Job: Construction Worker (B-Rank)) (Skills: Endurance Boost (Lv. 3), Strategist (Lv. 3), Heavy Lifting (Lv. 2), Material Efficiency (Lv. 2), Team Coordination (Lv. 6), Structural Reinforcement (Lv. 2), Precision Engineering (Lv. 2), Fast Assembly (Lv. 2), Rapid Deconstruction (Lv. 1)) But that wasn't what showed up. Instead— (Job: Lawyer (D-Rank)) (Skills: Strategist (Lv. 5), Hand-to-Hand Combat (Lv. 1), Physical Recovery Efficiency (Lv. 3), Muscle Reinforcement (Lv. 2), Reflex Calibration (Lv. 2), Muscle Optimization (Lv. 3), Legal Analysis (Lv. 3), Witness Credibility Assessment (Lv. 2), Persuasive Argumentation (Lv. 3)) I froze. This was it. I was screwed. Evelyn's eyes flickered over the screen. She blinked once. Paused. Then— She handed my ID card back. "Your identity matches. Thank you for your cooperation." I barely held in my shock. My hands stayed steady as I took the card, nodding. "Of course." I turned and walked out of the room. But inside— I was reeling. What the hell just happened? My Construction Worker skills were gone. Replaced by my Lawyer skills. And yet, Evelyn didn't question it.

Chapter 89: A Trial of Identities

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