Disclaimer: All material used in this fanfiction belongs to its respective owner(s) and is not associated with them in any way, shape, or form. I, the writer of this fanfic, claim none of it as my own in this non-profit, non-canon fanfic.
A/N: Happy Phoenziska Day! On this day in Ace Attorney lore, Phoenix and Franziska meet for the first time in Reunion, and Turnabout. To celebrate, I'm diverting from my usual update schedule with this one-off story showcasing Franziska's thoughts after the events of Farewell, My Turnabout. This is my first ever non-comedic story, as well as my first one entirely consisting of an inner monologue, so if it comes off as a bit strange when compared to my other works, that's why.
The sunset is quite lovely tonight. Despite it being almost ten p.m.- how these foolish Americans get by without military time is beyond me- the sun is still well above the horizon, the sky mostly blue with a few hints of yellow towards the fluffy sea of clouds beneath the plane. It's like a scene that one would see in a painting in a first-class hotel room.
But my mind isn't focused on the scenic view, but rather that fourth piece of evidence that I gingerly hold in my hand, the calling card of the foolish assassin who struck me down that Maya Fey had fashioned into Phoenix Wright's likeness.
Maya Fey… She loved that man. And from what I had seen over the past few months, as well as when I first met him, Phoenix Wright shared those same feelings. Heh… Two foolish fools who act foolishly out of love... How poetic.
Ever since I could remember, Papa always taught me that emotions were for the weak- that petty feelings like love and joy would only slow me down and dull my perfection- and I, in turn, embraced his teachings full heartedly. While other girls were raving over the latest boybands, I was studying law; and as my peers were going out on romantic dates for Valentine's Day, I was home alone preparing for my perfect trial the following day.
Though despite my perfect upbringing, when I look down at the foolish doodle on this calling card, I'm filled with an overwhelming sadness- as if someone took a 50-ton weight, tied it around my heart, and pushed it into the sea where it slowly sinks into the dark abyss. But then again, how else is one supposed to feel when one learns that the person that they've loved for most of their life has found someone else? Yes, I have feelings for Phoenix Wright and knew all about him well before he even knew that I existed.
My earliest exposure to Phoenix Wright was when I was around the age of four. Miles Edgeworth had been part of our family for two years, but we could easily tell that he wasn't use to his new home. Little Brother was very antisocial, even more so than he is now- barely giving eye contact, rarely speaking, and spending his free time held up in his room, his eyes filled with sadness as he starred out his window, completely despondent whenever I or my older sister, Gilberta, would offer to play a game like chess or Scrabble with him. During this period, given my more outgoing nature, I usually spoke for Miles Edgeworth and made minor choices for him, like what he'd eat or what games we would play, which is why I refer to him as my little brother.
The only time Miles Edgeworth would show any enthusiasm was when he would tell me and Gilberta stories about his time with Phoenix Wright in secret- how they'd chase after ice cream trucks on their bikes, the forts that they'd create from discarded cardboard boxes, the countless hours they'd spend in playing hide-and-seek in the park, to name a few. I can still vividly remember the twinkle of joy in Miles Edgeworth's eyes as he would tell these stories and more in whispers over the dull, flickering light of a flashlight, careful to ensure that Papa wouldn't discover our secret story time.
Papa had no tolerance for Miles Edgeworth reminiscing of events before his father's death, telling him "That is no longer your life, boy. Leave it behind and embrace the perfection that only I can give you." Back then, I had no idea why Papa was like that, but now that I'm older, I finally understand. Papa wanted to mold Miles Edgeworth into the successor that neither Gilberta nor I could ever hope to become, the son that he never had, and to do that, he had to make him perfectly von Karma, in the past, present, and future… only to make his future plan for my little brother's arrest all the more satisfying. That's why Papa would work Miles Edgeworth into the ground with his studies, day in and day out, much more than he ever did with me or Gilberta, never allowing him to have friends or even much of a personal life. Papa's mission was to make Miles Edgeworth live, eat, and breathe prosecution 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, leaving me and my sister off to the wayside.
But when Miles Edgeworth would tell us his stories about Phoenix Wright, he was able to put aside the endless studies and arduous standards of our household and act like himself. And suffice to say, Gilberta and I were utterly fascinated at these tales. Children being allowed to play, parents accepting foolishness, fathers giving hugs and saying "I love you"… These were concepts that were completely foreign to us, as if Los Angeles was an entirely different world from Dresden. So from these stories, Phoenix Wright became a secret symbol of happiness, of hope, that even if Papa doesn't think that we're perfect, there are plenty of others out there that would if we merely tried our hardest. I know for a fact that Gilberta held onto to those memories, for after she married her husband and had my niece, they moved into the suburbs so that their daughter, Cecania, could live the innocent life that Miles Edgeworth lived with Phoenix Wright.
Unfortunately, about a year later, Papa finally broke Miles Edgeworth's will and his wellspring of stories dried up. But then came the letters…
Apparently, even after several years of not seeing or hearing from each other, Phoenix Wright still saw Miles Edgeworth as a friend and would send letters to the house. Papa, of course, would not tolerate such foolish sentiments and would waste no time in intercepting said letters and disposing of them in the garbage. But little did he know, one day, as I was throwing away an apple core in the trash, I saw an envelope addressed to Miles Edgeworth. Since my little brother was never one to throw away mail, curiosity drove me to take the letter out of the trash and sneak off to my room where I could read it in peace.
When I opened the envelope, the first sentence caught me by surprise: "Hey Edgeworth, it's your old pal Phoenix." I was reading a letter by the Phoenix Wright, the boy of legend from Miles Edgeworth's wonderful stories, and after reading his letter, he was just as I had suspected. Every word of that boy's letter was so sincere and heartwarming. He came off as the kind of person who just wanted the best for his friends, not because he wanted to control them, but because he cared- which is more than I can say about Papa. Don't get me wrong, I love Papa with all my heart and see him as my hero, even to this day, but he only liked me for what I could do, not for who I was as a person. And frankly, knowing that Miles Edgeworth had someone like Phoenix who cared about him like that and I didn't made me quite jealous. But Little Brother didn't know about Phoenix Wright's letters, so I didn't hold it against him.
After that, I made a routine out of it: Wait for the mail to come, wait for Papa to throw Phoenix Wright's letter away, sneak it back to my room, read it, hide it in a shoebox underneath my bed, and repeat. I know that this kind of behavior is rather disturbing, and I probably should have told Miles Edgeworth about the letters, but I was a foolish child- my foolish little brain hadn't fully developed yet! Plus, if I told Miles Edgeworth, he would have confronted Papa about the letters and they would have gotten into a big fight, ending with me getting punished.
So for the next six years, when not busy studying to be a prodigy prosecutor, I entertained myself with Phoenix Wright's weekly letters which went into surprising detail about what has happened in his life since he last wrote. In word form, I got to see how Phoenix Wright accidentally entered the wrong room on his first day of middle school, how some fool named Larry Butz kept making lewd jokes and drawing perverse pictures in Health class, the trials and tribulations he went through to obtain his driver's license, and how he was turned down by ten girls when trying to get a date for senior prom. Those harlots! Did they not realize what I would have done to be held in that man's arms for even a second, my head nestled in his chest as he whispered in my ear how I was absolutely perfect, making me feel as if I was important for once? I would have whipped every foolish teacher who dared to criticize Phoenix Wright's preference of using 'stepladders' in papers over 'ladders' with my riding crop for such a high honor! Sure, Phoenix Wright could have very well have been the type of man to be Prince Charming on paper and some crude ogre in real life, but I knew that this wasn't the case. What uncaring fool would write letters to his friend every week for more than half a decade, undeterred by a lack of response? But the letters were just the tip of the iceberg…
Once a year, Phoenix Wright would send his yearbook photo so that my little brother would know what he looked like, and each one looked as good as his words were kind. And while his body matured, becoming more and more handsome with each passing year, one thing remained constant in that Phoenix Wright had a face unlike any that were seen either in person or in photos in the von Karma household: He was smiling- not the smirk that my little brother would put on when he was bragging about his accomplishments at dinner, or the condescending sneer that Papa had whenever he utterly crushed a defense attorneys hopes, but a smile that showed he was feeling happy and nothing more. And his eyes… Phoenix Wright's shinning blue eyes had a softness about them that made me feel safe, that I could tell him my insecurities, my secrets, and he wouldn't laugh or tell me that I was being foolish, or say how I'm an insult to the von Karma family name.
It was these letters and pictures that helped me transition to life after Gilberta went off to college when I was seven, and later when Miles permanently left Germany to study abroad when I was ten. I know this is rather foolish to say, but Phoenix's Wright was a brother and a friend to me when all I had was Papa's scowl of disapproval. I always tried my best to earn Papa's love and respect: I made sure that I thoroughly understood everything he taught me, I never complained when he would forget my birthdays because he was too focused on preparing for trials, and I would even take his side whenever he tried to defend Santa's existence when arguing with a nonbeliever. But no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, I could never please him.
But alas, all good things must come to an end, and Phoenix Wright's letters were no exception. For after Phoenix Wright graduated high school, he sent Miles Edgeworth one last letter detailing how since they both would probably be going out of town for college, he wouldn't be sending anymore letters unless my little brother replied for once and gave him a return address. Oh, you don't know how badly I wanted to write a letter posing as Miles Edgeworth, saying that I would be commuting to school from home and my address would remain the same, but I knew that plan was dead on arrival. If by some miracle I was able to avoid Papa's ever watchful eye and actually mail it, Phoenix Wright would have been able to see right through my rouse. Sure, Phoenix Wright wasn't of perfect von Karma stock nor was he raised in our household, but even a fool like that pathetic Larry Butz that he constantly mentioned would be able notice the difference between my handwriting and Miles Edgeworth's, which even to this day is utter chicken scratch compared to mine. How I cursed my perfect penmanship.
And so, for the next six years, I carried on with my life, once more alone as I worked to become a prosecutor. Then, at age 13, after much blood, sweat, and tears, I had finally done it! But despite the joy I felt regarding my accomplishment and Papa telling me that I did well- the kindest thing he ever said to me- I couldn't help but feel empty knowing that I couldn't tell Phoenix Wright about it. If Miles Edgeworth was in my shoes, he would write to Phoenix Wright telling him all about the stress of studying and how he flew through the test with flying colors, to which he would respond with something along the lines of, "That's great, Edgeworth! I always knew you could do it!". Then, on September ninth, 2016, Phoenix Wright's name finally resurfaced in my life, but not in the way I expected.
It was 23:30 in Dresden and I was in bed, sound asleep as I rested for a trial that I had the following morning. I remember that I was having a recurring nightmare that always reared its ugly face whenever I was feeling stressed. In the dream, I was five years-old while Miles Edgeworth was his current age of 24 and we were in the mansion's courtyard playing catch. Suddenly, Miles Edgeworth stopped to stare down at his watch, dark clouds rolling in as he cast me a cold, merciless glare, telling me that he had to leave. Not wanting to be alone, I chased after him and grabbed onto to his leg, sobbing and pleading with him to stay, but all that did was serve to anger him, prompting my little brother to kick me away like one would an annoying dog. "Stay away, Franziska. You'll only serve to get in my way." was all he said in a curt tone as he walked away, vanishing into thin air like a specter upon reaching the property line. Suddenly, the sky glowed crimson as the clouds morphed into a giant version of Papa with glowing red eyes that were filled with contempt as they glared down at me. Then, before I could react, the cloud monster resembling Papa tried to squish me like a bug underneath his palm. But before I could feel the sole of the creature's boot crushing my skull, I was abruptly woken up by the sound of the phone ringing.
Seeing the caller id, my heart nearly jumped in my throat. It was Papa. I didn't even need to answer the phone to know that something was wrong. Papa would NEVER call just for the sake of calling, let alone during working hours! And sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed upon answering the phone and hearing Papa's roars of anger. He didn't even give me a chance to speak as he yelled about how Miles Edgeworth, the golden boy who always excelled at his studies while I lagged behind, had lost his first trial in his four years of being a prosecutor.
Hearing this, I was jumping for joy on the inside. Finally! After all these years of being second fiddle to Miles Edgeworth, Papa could finally see how perfect I was… how far I had come… And maybe, just maybe, he would finally desire to view one of my trials, just as he wanted to with Miles Edgeworth, compensating me for how he didn't even make an effort to show up for my first.
But while this feeling of giddiness was bubbling up within me, I dared not express it to Papa, especially then as he raged on and on for what felt like an eternity and a half about how Miles Edgeworth lost to some foolish greenhorn attorney who had only one trial prior, a man named Phoenix Wright.
Phoenix Wright… Just hearing that name again after all those years caused the world around me to just melt away, my body frozen in shock, unable to think about anything else or even respond to what Papa was saying. Though that lattermost part was of no real issue for the man. He just wanted someone to vent his frustrations to over how he wasted 15 years of his life grooming the son of his most despised enemy, not even concerned if I was still listening.
But those thoughts about Papa didn't matter as all of my focus was on the man who had defeated my little brother, the man who was my only childhood friend, Phoenix Wright. Even though he was a mere defense attorney, defeating Miles Edgeworth, a man who was more experienced and, from my personal experience, possessed an intellect that could slightly rival Papa's, on his second trial was an admiral feat- and after having also won his first trial, nonetheless! His drive, his quick wit, his unyielding determination… he was well on his way to becoming perfect, and it was at this moment that my feelings of friendship and the childish crush that I felt towards Phoenix Wright had grown into something more… intimate.
Over the next month, my feelings for that attorney only grew strong as he managed to defeat Miles Edgeworth once again, making him the first to defeat my little brother not once, but twice. But what made Phoenix Wright's third victory all the sweeter was how I got to hear about it from Miles Edgeworth himself. My little brother tried to justify himself by giving the excuse that he lost his focus on account of Phoenix Wright making him feel burdensome feelings, opening himself up to my signature mocking and boasting. But little did Miles Edgeworth know that part of the reason why I was laughing was not because I enjoyed his pain, but because Phoenix Wright was bringing back the little brother from my early youth, the one whose eyes would light up as he recalled his carefree days with his spikey-haired friend. I thought that this would make Miles Edgeworth stop trying to run ahead of me, to let me catch up and view me as an equally-skilled prosecutor, friend, and sister.
But unfortunately, that wasn't the case. That outcome was too perfect, even for a von Karma. People outside my family would always tell me that life's not perfect, a saying that I'd object to with a lash of my riding crop- later my whip- and my tongue. But then on that fateful Christmas season, I learned just how foolish I was to ignore their words…
Christmas was always a happy holiday in my family since it was one of the few times of year when Papa actually cared about other things besides his perfect record. Granted, most of that concern went to appeasing Santa- the reason for which Papa never explained and took to his grave- but we were grateful that some of that concern would spill over to us. It was as if Papa became a different person during the holiday season: we'd sing carols, bake cookies, watch movies, and open up presents on Christmas morning. Even though I would never say this out loud, I, like most children, wished that Christmas would last all 365 days of the year- not to get endless presents, but to feel like my papa actually loved me.
It was Papa's immense love of the holiday that made it all the more perplexing when he chose to spend it alone in Los Angeles instead of coming back to Dresden. Papa called me on Christmas morning to tell me that as much as he wanted to return home to see me, there was a pressing trial that he was just assigned to mere minutes ago. Understandably, I confronted him on the subject, bringing up how the only time he wouldn't come home for Christmas was if a case was assigned on Christmas Eve, in which case Gilberta's family and I would fly out to see him. Of course, Papa, being one to never tolerate anyone questioning him, scolded me with the same infamous booming voice that he used on attorneys, detectives, representatives from charities, and anyone else who enraged him before telling me how this was no ordinary trial- it was Miles Edgeworth's.
Apparently, Miles Edgeworth had scheduled to meet the foolish attorney who acquitted his father's murderer, Robert Hammond, at Gourd Lake under the premises of getting closure on the matter since the statute of limitation for the DL-6 case was just a few days away. But apparently Miles Edgeworth had darker intentions in mind, for when they sailed to the center of the lake, he shot Hammond. And worse yet, Miles Edgeworth didn't even TRY to conceal it! Handling a gun without gloves and then leaving it behind? Not even a defense attorney would do something so foolish, let alone a prosecutor brought up under Papa's perfect tutelage. So for these reasons, and the fact that Miles Edgeworth had lost two trials prior to this, Papa was going to prosecute him and restore honor to our perfect family. Of course, being the perfect daughter I was, I did not hesitate to believe Papa's story and wished him a quick, decisive victory.
Growing up, Papa would never tell us what defense attorney he was going up against in a given trial, saying how they'd all quickly fall to his might in a single day and how remembering them was like remembering every ant that you've ever stepped on. So understandably, Papa didn't say who Miles Edgeworth's attorney was nor did I feel the need to ask, but deep down I knew who it was: Phoenix Wright. I pictured in my mind Phoenix Wright riding up to Miles Edgeworth's holding cell in the detention center on a white stallion- Yes, a white stallion. I may have been on the cusp of adulthood, but that didn't mean that I couldn't reuse imagery from my childhood fantasies of him- and would humbly offer to be his defense attorney. Miles Edgeworth, being the pigheaded fool that he was when it came to asking for help, would deny him. But Phoenix Wright, with his gorgeous baby-blue eyes, firm cheekbones, and warming smile, would eventually break him down and take up his defense. And it would be at this point that Phoenix Wright's perfect record would become no more. Sure, he was capable enough to defeat a legal genius like my little brother, but against Papa? Papa was perfectly prosecuting since before Phoenix Wright was conceived! There was no way that he would win this one. It was sad to know that Miles Edgeworth would spend the rest of his days in a prison cell and Phoenix Wright's hopes, dreams, and perfect record would be crushed, but it was something that I had to accept. If I were to ever achieve even a fraction of Papa's greatness, I could not afford to let myself be burdened with such sadness. However, that sadness would pale in comparison to what the following months had in store for me.
As Miles Edgeworth's trial went on, I carried out my day as if nothing had happened: I visited crime scenes, interrogated witnesses, and gathered perfect evidence. However, things changed on the 28th when I received a call from none other than my little brother. I knew that this call would come- Miles Edgeworth using his one phone call to say his last goodbyes before going on death row. Frankly, I was shocked that this call wasn't made on the 26th, given Papa's penchant for getting guilty verdicts on the first day. Nevertheless, when I answered the phone, I wanted so badly to tell Miles Edgeworth how I was going to miss him and how life would feel so empty without my little brother, but once again, I couldn't afford to shame the family name by showing weakness. So instead, I opted for snidely commenting on how Miles Edgeworth had foolishly thrown his life away and how I'd have to work twice as hard to make up for how he foolishly brought shame to Papa's teachings with his foolishness; though these comments didn't faze him as he sullenly muttered "Some things never change…" under his breath. Demanding that he explain what he meant by that remark, Miles Edgeworth revealed the reason for the sullenness in his voice- not saddened by being convicted and sent to prison, which I had originally thought, but because the impossible had been done: Papa not only lost two trials in the course of a single day, but was also arrested. It took every ounce of willpower to keep myself from dropping the phone and crying. But it only got worse as Miles Edgeworth told me in explicit detail of all that had happened- how Papa planned Robert Hammond's murder to have him arrested, how Papa used his stun gun to assault Phoenix Wright, who sure enough was the defense attorney for the case, when he found out about said plan, and how Papa was the one who murdered his father all those years ago and had only adopted Miles Edgeworth as part of his master plan for retribution.
That was my breaking point. The room began to spin like a merry-go-round, my head felling light and my breathing becoming shallow as I fell to my knees, crushed as my perfect world fell apart before my very eyes. Sure, Papa wasn't the warmest person out there and was hell-bent on perfection, but he would never resort to murder to achieve it! It made me think back to when I was a small child and would ask Papa why he adopted Miles Edgeworth, which he said was because he wished to show the boy what perfection was. But little did I know it was because he had some fixation on vengeance! My entire life was a lie! What else was false? Was I really a prosecutor? Did Papa really want was best for me? Was I even his daughter!? At that point, I didn't know what to believe as I cried for the first time in years, tears streaming down my cheeks as Miles Edgeworth tried to console me, telling me how I wasn't at fault. Now he pretended to give a damn about me, when I was at my weakest!? It was sickening how he talked to me with the soft, yet demeaning tone that a parent uses when their child is sobbing over dropped ice cream- acting like I was the same little girl that he left behind when he chose to pursue his own path! I was just as much the prosecutor he was, yet that foolish man was either too jealous or dense to realize it! But Miles Edgeworth would have loved to hear me say this, to revel in the fact that deep down I was a little girl crying out for love while he was so strong and independent! Well, I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction and instead opted to yell to him about how there had to be some mistake, that Papa was innocent and was brought down by the foolish lies of a slimy attorney! But Miles Edgeworth remained calm and told me that if I wanted the truth, then I should come out to Los Angeles and ask Papa himself, and that is exactly what I did. I cleared my schedule and took the first flight I could from Dresden to Los Angeles.
When I entered the visitor's room of the detention center, I was scared of how Papa would react. If Papa could yell at someone for 30 minutes because they dared to correct him when he accidentally referred to marmalade as butter, then only God could know the sheer terror that he could inflict with the shame of having lost not one, but two trials. I was half-expecting Papa's head to start spinning like that scene from Exorcist, puke spewing forth from his mouth like water from a fountain, followed by a fissure opening up from the ground, releasing the demons of Hell and creating a crisis that could only be stopped through the combined efforts of a priest, a rabbi, the Dalai Lama, and Santa!
But much to my surprise, instead of the over-the-top scenario that I pictured in my head or even a mild fit of rage, the officers brought before me a pitiful excuse of a man who I could only barely recognize as my papa. His posture, normally as straight as an arrow, was hunched over; the look in his eye, which was cold, yet filled with fiery fury, and proud, yet reserved, was instead empty and lack life; and his body, which was normally as still as a statue's, was now shaking like a leaf in the wind. Papa was a shell of his former self, something that became harder and harder to gaze at with each passing second- and judging from how he refused to look me in the eye, he was feeling a similar pain. But the most anguishing part of the experience was whenever I'd ask him something, Papa would just respond by mumbling how his perfect record was no more or some curse at Phoenix Wright. Papa wasn't just defeated, he was truly broken. Phoenix Wright had taken away all that Papa held dear… which would come to include his very life.
A few days after my sad visit with Papa, I received a police call from the L.A.P.D., specifically Detective Gant, saying how Papa had passed on… not through a prison fight or execution, but by his own hand. Apparently, Papa had committed suicide by repeatedly bludgeoning his head against the concrete wall of his cell until he stopped breathing, and next to his body, they found a note that read "Prosecutor Manfred von Karma chooses death."
After giving me his condolences, I demanded that Detective Gant hang up the phone so that I could have some alone time, which he was more than happy to do. After which, I once again fought back my tears, making sure to show no weakness and bring shame to Papa's memory. I was fully aware that Papa was no spring chicken, but I never thought that I would have to see him pass before reaching 20. My papa was a strong, healthy man- he was too perfect to succumb to death, at least in my eyes. Ironic… Papa was the type of man who could control everything around him- the courts, his family, what snacks were served at parties- and his death was no different. Papa didn't go into the light; he snapped his fingers and made the light come to him. But it wouldn't have had to be that way if only that foolish trial didn't happen, if Phoenix Wright hadn't won.
Even with this severe blow to my family and my admiration for Phoenix Wright shaken, I still didn't hate the man. I figured that Papa had him pinned against the wall and that he uncovered the truth about him as a last resort. My hatred for that foolish attorney didn't start until February 25th, 2017.
After winning yet another trial, I returned back to the mansion when I heard the phone ring. At that point, with the news of Papa's arrest and then his death, I was half-tempted to disconnect all the phones in the house since every time I answered them, my life managed to get worse. And sure enough, this call was no different. Apparently after losing another trial to Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth had went to his office, only to disappear, with the sole clue to what had happened being a note which consisted of a sentence that brought back the horrible memory of Papa's passing: "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.", figuratively, of course- Miles Edgeworth was too logical and stubborn to take the easy way out.
That was the final straw! In the course of two months, Phoenix Wright had not only taken my father from me, but my little brother as well! I loved that man and saw him as a friend and this is how he repaid me, by taking away my family!? But what made it worse was that Phoenix Wright didn't know that I existed, that Papa had a family which he destroyed without a second thought! Granted, if Phoenix Wright had lost, Miles Edgeworth would have still been gone, something that would have brought me great pain, but at least I'd still have my Papa. But with him gone from this world and Miles Edgeworth off in some unknown parts, I became the last perfect prosecutor of our immediate family, and with that the stakes of perfection grew increasingly higher. In the past, I feared failure, but at least I could take solace in the fact that Papa or Miles Edgeworth could continue to do the family name justice, but now… one wrong mistake and centuries of von Karma perfection would be quickly extinguished like a flame in a hurricane. It's one thing to run a race where one runner's always ahead of you, but when you're running alone… that's when it's the hardest. What's the point in winning a race in which you're the only contestant and loosing earns you international scorn?
As I was awash in sorrow, my mind drifted back to Phoenix Wright, the man who at one point represented the good in humanity. What was he doing as I was mourning the destruction of my family? Probably preparing for his next perfect victory as if nothing ever happened! Papa was right: defense attorneys were heartless, evil being out only for themselves and would stoop to any low to achieve victory!
And with that, my self-pity turned to fiery rage as I swore vengeance! Even if Miles Edgeworth wasn't there to see how I'd grown, I could prove to the world that I, Franziska von Karma, was the greatest von Karma to ever live by doing what he and even Papa had failed to accomplish: crush Phoenix Wright in court!
I called the Chief Prosecutor of the Los Angeles Prosecutor's Office and told him that I'd be working in his district until further notice. Of course, given that I was Papa's daughter, the foolish man was more than happy to have me join his office, further proving why I wanted- no, NEEDED to defeat Phoenix Wright, an opportunity which presented itself five months later. The nerve of that foolish attorney, making me wait in his foolishly foolish country that foolishly couldn't make a good strudel if their foolish lives depended on it, or air television programs that weren't all foolishly shallow reality shows or foolish sitcoms with jokes so safe and bland that I wanted to hurl. But this was actually a blessing in disguise, for I could feed upon that anger in the upcoming trial and make Phoenix Wright's defeat all the more painful!
The case appeared relatively straightforward: Maya Fey entered a room with the victim, the only door was locked behind them, she tried to stab him with a knife, he survived and fired a gun at her, missed, and was finished off with his own weapon. This was the kind of case that von Karmas thrive on. It was almost as if Papa gave me this case as a last gift to help me avenge his legacy. And to make things even better, the evidence was von Karma-level perfect: the knife and gun both had finger prints belonging to Maya Fey! If all went according to plan, I would have had both my victory and vengeance within ten minutes. Granted, Phoenix Wright could have avoided total defeat with a plea of justified self-defense, which given the available evidence was easy to argue. But if that foolish attorney went that route, he would be admitting his client's guilt and his perfect record would fall. But unfortunately, things don't always go as planned.
When I entered the courtroom, I took a minute to take in Phoenix Wright's appearance. After all, this was the first time in all these years of knowing him that we met in person, so I wanted to make it count, and it did not disappoint. With his sweat-drenched brow, pale complexion, and appearance of utter dread, Phoenix Wright looked absolutely adorable! If I wasn't out to get my revenge, I would have hugged him until his foolish little head popped off… but unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case. Instead, I started my attack with the perfect opening statement that I had practiced in the car on the way to the courthouse, leaving that foolish defense attorney dumbfounded when I gave him a mere taste of my fury in whip-form.
But even with my perfect intimidation tactics, Phoenix Wright foolishly chose to assert that Maya Fey was not guilty and merely delay his inevitable defeat. But I actually was glad that this was the case. Phoenix Wright going down kicking and screaming would have made my victory all the sweeter. But those hopes were quickly crushed as that fool used his filthy, cowardly attorney ways to nitpick at every last statement of Scruffy's foolish testimony and conjure up foolish theories from his foolish imagination!
But I had to give the man credit. He took a case that was completely hopeless and quickly turned it in his favor, even if it was done with the underhanded methods of his trade. At that moment, I could see why Miles Edgeworth and Papa failed against this man: whereas other attorneys would have just given up, he was determined to prove his client innocent and was filled with a sense of hope that was unheard of to everyone in my family… though I was an exception. This was the Phoenix Wright that my sister and I heard about in Miles Edgeworth's stories; the same boy who would write letters to his friend knowing full well that he would get no reply. It felt as if I was a little girl reading his letters all over again. But I couldn't afford to allow my sentiment to lower my focus, to dull the edge of perfection that Papa helped me sharpen.
But sure enough, despite my best efforts of manipulating Lotta Hart's testimony, Phoenix Wright managed to work past it and prolonged the trial another day. Oh, how my blood boiled at the prospect of my vengeance being delayed even longer! At that point Phoenix Wright was asking for total annihilation! That's why I pulled a few strings to have the trial's conclusion aired on international television so that Miles Edgeworth, no matter where in the world he was hiding, he would see my greatness.
But the next day, Phoenix Wright, in all of his foolish glory, clung to the most foolish of theories which he supported with the smallest of details and managed to prove that my perfect witness was the actual murderer! And so, despite fighting to the best of my ability, my perfect record, and the perfection of the von Karma name were gone… destroyed by a man who needed help from his deceased mentor who dressed like a foolish woman of the night! So suffice to say, I was fuming with pure rage as I fought every instinct to jump over the prosecutor's bench, pounce on Phoenix Wright, and beat him up like Ralphie did to Scott Farkus in Christmas Story. I may have experienced my first loss, but I still had my dignity… that is, until Phoenix Wright foolishly remarked of how my defeat would be broadcast all over the world with that foolishly smug grin on his foolish face! He was asking for my wrath and that is what he received as I whipped him into unconsciousness! Phoenix Wright may have won the battle, but the war was far from over. He was just lucky that time, but I was certain that luck would run out and I'd be victorious in our next encounter and reclaim my perfection!
But much to my frustration, the second time played out almost exactly like the first: I had a very solid case, Phoenix Wright nitpicked every last word of the testimonies, turned the trial around, and proved that my witness was the murderer- only that time I got to deal with a disturbing puppet wanting to marry a 16 year-old girl and a foolish clown that foolishly didn't get the memo that his foolish jokes were never funny!
Then came the trial of Matt Engarde, a.k.a. the Nickle Samurai. Once again, the case seemed pretty straightforward, and as an added bonus the defendant and victim were fierce rivals, so there was actually proper motivation that time- not fools disguising as their dead sister to kill their foolish ex-boss, not some foolish acrobat who accidentally murdered the wrong person, but a classic case of a person killing someone they hate. But still, I was not taking any chances. With my luck, if I didn't step up my game, Phoenix Wright would propose something foolishly absurd like the victim being killed by telekinetic leprechauns riding flying yaks or something equally as foolish.
My first and foremost objective was finding Scruffy and drilling into his foolish head that his testimony must be airtight. I was not going to tolerate a repeat of that foolish detective blabbing about every little thing that entered his foolish little brain on the stand and giving Phoenix Wright leeway. Fortunately, that wasn't a hard task on account of me bugging Scruffy's filthy trench coat with a tracking device after his foolish testimony cost me my victory during Maya Fey's trial. Sure, many would deem such an act as 'unethical' or 'an invasion of privacy', but I liked to think of it as verifying that he was actually doing his job and not rummaging around a dumpster, if his smell was of any indication. And good thing I did, because thanks to my perfect insight, I was able to catch Scruffy not only slacking off on the job, but actually disclosing vital evidence and facts to Phoenix Wright, the enemy! It all made sense why I was losing: Phoenix Wright had been weaseling his way into my perfect investigations and pumping my hopefully foolish detective for information! That dirty, twisted fool! To think that I ever had feelings for him! Sure, I had my doubts about his nature, given how a foolish beginner like him managed to defeat both Miles Edgeworth and Papa, but that was the proof in the pudding! Phoenix Wright was just as bad as all those other slimy defense attorneys!
So with a barrage of lashes from my whip, I ordered Scruffy to return to the precinct, thus severing Phoenix Wright's evil information network… or so I thought. Because later, I found that Judas Scruffy once again disclosing information to that diabolical snake of an attorney, casually discussing it like one would the weather! What was wrong with that foolish detective!? How Miles Edgeworth dealt with that fool for… Scruffy! He was not only the detective for the cases Miles Edgeworth lost, but also the one where Papa was brought down! For over a year, Phoenix and Scruffy had forged an unholy alliance of sorts with the sole intention of destroying the perfection of the von Karma family- a sin that would not go unpunished as I fired the foolish detective so that he could never go against me again! Oh, how Scruffy begged for mercy, trying to gain sympathy by playing the hunger card, but I would have none of that. Years of training under Papa's perfect tutelage made me strong, indifferent to the struggles of the foolish that had only themselves to blame.
But before I could really lay into Scruffy, he finally showed his face… Miles Edgeworth, the little brother who always wanted to be the superstar! And practically the first thing to come out of his foolishly foolish mouth was a condescendingly smug remark about how I blame people when things go wrong and how I hadn't changed. The nerve of that fool! I'm a von Karma, a proud descendant of a perfect bloodline! I didn't make mistakes, other people did… people like him, a fact that I didn't hesitate to bring to my little brother's attention along with how he disgraced our family, punctuated with a lash of my whip. But Miles Edgeworth, always having to have the last word, retorted with my losses and had the gall to suggest that he take over my perfect trial! That foolish vulture! He knew full well that this case would be a textbook example of total victory and he sought to steal it away from me, just like when we were kids and he'd take the last strudel without a second thought!
Victory in the next trial was mine, of that I was certain, and the key witness, a woman named Adrian Andrews, would be my way of achieving it! When I first met Adrian Andrews, she came off as a woman after my own heart- strong, independent, not one to tolerate fools. But after some of my usual methods involving many threats from my whip and variations of the word 'fool', I found that her personality was all an act as she looked at me with wonder in her eyes, like how a child views their mother. Being the perfect prodigy that I am, it didn't take long for me to connect the dots and realize that this woman had dependency issues- something that I planned to fully take advantage of. For unlike Scruffy, that foolish loudmouth from the Heartlands, that perverted ventriloquist, that foolish clown, or that foolishly calm, jovial acrobat, I could completely bend this witness to my will. With the others, had Phoenix Wright found an inconsistency with their logic, they would foolishly try to defend it with even more foolish testimony, giving him the necessary momentum to crush my perfect arguments. However, Adrian Andrews, being so desperate to cling to someone stronger than her, would not hesitate to actually heed my order to remain silent once Phoenix Wright pointed out a contradiction, effectively stopping my foolish adversary in his tracks! It was official, nothing in that courtroom would thwart my retribution, and I was correct. My plans for revenge weren't stopped by something in the courtroom...
As soon as I got out of my car in the courthouse parking lot, I heard a loud bang, shortly followed by a sharp, burning pain surging through my right shoulder severe enough to make me drop to my knees. Feeling the newly-formed crimson hole on my right shoulder, I quickly surmised that I had been ambushed and shot! But who would do something of the sort to me? Von Karma's are like elephants- powerful creatures with perfect memories that have few enemies. But my question was quickly answered when Miles Edgeworth and Scruffy rushed to my aid almost immediately! I understand the desire for vengeance better than anyone, but having your foolish, scruffy former-lackey shoot your sibling!? I wouldn't even stoop that low! Unsurprisingly, when I called Miles Edgeworth out on his master plan to steal away my victory, he said that I was being paranoid and that I couldn't prosecute in my condition! Who was he trying to foolishly fool with such a foolish excuse? If Papa was able to perfectly prosecute with a bullet in his shoulder for 15 years, then I could easily do it for a day. But Miles Edgeworth's response to that point as he dragged me away by the wrist like a parent would a rowdy child, despite being only four words, stung worse than an entire nest full of hornets: "You're not your father."
The next hour or so was a blur, my mind too distraught to register anything other than Miles Edgeworth foolishly believing that a clearly perverted man with pink hair was the director of the nearest clinic and left me with him without a second thought! Thank God an actual nurse quickly noticed me, otherwise that foolish sex offender would have continued to stroke my hair and give me shoulder rubs! And people say that crime scenes are unnerving…!
After my surgery, the real pain began in the form of that disturbing 'director' constantly sneaking into my room, saying how he wished to 'take care of me'! Thankfully, my right arm had recovered to the point where I couldn't drive, but could perfectly utilize my whip. So, making the best out of a bad situation, I fended him off with my trusty weapon, but unlike most people, that perverted pink-haired deviant seemed to be slowly, but surely, building up a tolerance to my trusty weapon. In fact, I actually think that he enjoyed it! So the second I was given the chance to leave that accursed hospital room, I took it and fled to the reception area where, much to my surprise, I saw Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright… who was carrying a bouquet of tulips.
If my younger self was in my current position, she'd be jumping for joy and celebrating as if she received a firm handshake from Papa. She would have been foolishly chirping and squealing about how Phoenix Wright cared for her and wanted to make her happy. But things were different… I was different… and Phoenix Wright was different... Knowing his desire for victory, I wouldn't have put it past that foolish attorney to bug those flowers with a listening device, hoping that I would say some vital fact that would secure his victory.
Phoenix Wright then proceeded to confront me about my plan regarding Adrian Andrews, to keep her quiet to secure my victory. He then proceeded to go on and on about how I took advantage of her trust and was using her condition to control her, clearly voicing how 'dishonest' it was- as if he was one to talk. I caught him red-handed getting information from Scruffy! I was merely doing what it took to get Matt Engarde a guilty verdict, just as he was doing everything in his power to achieve the opposite. Of course, in the end, Phoenix Wright refused to accept my logic, so I ended the conversation.
The next day, even though I couldn't prosecute the trial in my condition, I was still able to remain informed by having an officer give me live updates of what was happening. Apparently, Phoenix Wright was falling apart like a wet piece of paper as more and more evidence and events were brought to light that made his client look all the guiltier, but that didn't stop him from trying to throw Adrian Andrews under the bus! And after he lectured me of how I was some sick, depraved monster of a person for taking advantage of her condition! At least I wasn't trying to get her arrested! But thanks to his slimy defense attorney ways, Phoenix Wright managed to bluff and nitpick until the foolish judge was convinced that Adrian Andrews had hired Shelly de Killer to kill Juan Corrida! What was Miles Edgeworth doing!? He had so many opportunities to secure a guilty verdict, yet he chose to foolishly ignore them! Was my foolishly little brother seriously that broken!? Thankfully, Miles Edgeworth at least had the sense to issue a police search for de killer which, thanks to a lucky guess from Scruffy, proved to be successful as they managed to recover four pieces of evidence.
This news made me want to jump for joy! With that evidence, Matt Engarde's guilt would finally be proven without a doubt and my revenge would finally be complete. But apparently the universe despised me and the evidence was placed in the hairy, sweaty, incompetent hands of Scruffy as he sped down the highway to deliver it to my foolish little brother. Suddenly, the officer who was giving me feedback said that all connections with Scruffy were cut off due to him getting in a car accident and they couldn't locate him! Oh, the terror that coursed through my veins, not for Scruffy's safety- I couldn't care less if he died in a burning wreck- but for the evidence. Because if that evidence was lost, Phoenix Wright would win his third consecutive victory over me, and I would have rather died than let that happen!
Those foolish officers may have not been able to find Scruffy, but thanks to my tracker, there was nowhere he could hide! Checking myself out of the clinic against the advice of the foolish medical staff and that perverted 'director', I ran as fast as my legs could take me, fueled by my vengeance as I followed the tracker to Scruffy's position where he apparently drove into a telephone pole!
When I inquired about the evidence that he had, he told me that it was in his trench coat in the back of his car which more or less resembled a dumpster with how many empty instant noodle cases were present, but nevertheless, I braved the foul, greasy stench and found the four items: a bellboy uniform, a pistol, probably the one that prevented me from appearing in court, a videotape which Scruffy said de Killer injured several officers to protect, and… one of de Killer's calling cards with the shell having been changed to look like Phoenix Wright's head and the word 'Nick' written on it.
Maya Fey was a strange girl. Even when being held hostage by a deadly assassin and starved, if what she said over that radio was true, she still had a childish sense of optimism about her. She believed with all her mind and heart that Phoenix wright cared for and would try to rescue her, almost like… how I was as a child. Sure, I was never starved or had my life threatened, but I was still a hostage of sorts- a hostage to the family name. Sure, I love my family and feel nothing but pride for our reputation of perfection, but I was never given the option to live a different life, to see what the other kids could see. Maya Fey, she wanted Phoenix Wright to save her from her prison, similar to how his letters let me see a glimpse of what life outside the cold walls of the von Karma manor was like and what it felt like to have a friend, even though that friend would eventually turn out to be my worst enemy.
Still, I had a plan for vengeance and I would achieve just that, even if Maya Fey's life was lost in the process. After all, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. So gathering up the evidence, I ran back to the courthouse in record time, triumphantly bursting through the doors and lashing Phoenix Wright with my whip before he could claim his third victory over me.
But alas, despite my efforts, I was too late! That foolish judge's mind was already set on a full acquittal. But then a miracle happened- Phoenix Wright actually wanted to have the evidence examined! That fool! He probably foolishly thought that it would further strengthen his case, but unlike my foolish little bother, I was not one to pass up on victory, so I happily presented the evidence- the gun, the videotape, the uniform… but when I got to Maya Fey's doodle, I stopped. After all, it wasn't pivotal to the case. Unfortunately for Phoenix Wright, his plan backfired when he foolishly showed the videotape to de Killer, causing the assassin to practically announce to the whole courtroom that Matt Engarde was his former client and now current target! But the best part of it all was that, when given the choice to either give him a guilty or non-guilty verdict, Phoenix Wright chose the latter, yet still lost when Matt Engarde begged for the former and turned himself in. At long last, Phoenix Wright's perfect record was crushed by none other than me, Franziska von Karma.
But my celebration didn't last long, as I learned, much to my horror, that Phoenix Wright was not at all fazed and was actually glad to have lost! How could that have been? He had a perfect record, which included defeating Miles Edgeworth and Papa, and now it was gone! Miles Edgeworth then went on to tell me how he disappeared not because he was ashamed, but because he was guilty. Apparently, Phoenix Wright opened his eyes to the foolish idea that the truth cannot be hidden and that it will eventually come to the surface!
That naïve fool… We were raised in the von Karma household as perfect beings that create our own truths through our guilty verdicts. A von Karma without a perfect record is a foolish, pitiful person who is better off dead, but to so boldly voice against our upbringing and to drag our family name through the dirt with the sheer defiance by not seizing opportunities to get a guilty verdict sooner in that courtroom… The Miles Edgeworth I knew really was dead, killed by Phoenix Wright's foolish philosophy of truth! For the man before me was an idealistic fool without a single ounce of perfection in his being. Miles Edgeworth was no longer worthy of our family name, and now neither was I. For no matter what I do, I will never be able to reclaim my perfect record, just like how you can't un-ring a bell.
So once again, I found myself where I was just half a year ago- walking the path of being a prosecutor alone, only this time, there was but a single milestone… my resignation. Throwing my whip and my electromagnetic receiver to the ground, I renounced the way of the prosecutor as I rushed out of the courtroom, fighting back the tears that so badly wanted to flow freely. Hopefully that would restore some of the honor back to our fallen family name…
As I stood in the airport, awaiting my flight to Germany, a part of me hoped that as I went to board the plane, Phoenix Wright would stop me, yelling my name as he ran towards me. I would act cold towards him, but that wouldn't faze him as he'd try to comfort me in the same fashion that he had unwittingly been doing throughout my youth. He would tell me how life's not a competition, that I didn't have to be like Papa and that I was perfect in my own way. After a pregnant pause, he would hand me my whip- which I have a strong feeling he picked up after my outburst- and ask me if I would still be a prosecutor, his smile warm and his gaze innocent and understanding, just like all of his school pictures which I kept in an unmarked scrapbook hidden with his letters. And after taking a few seconds to think it over, I would reclaim my whip and use it against him, smirking as I tell him how our next battle would be different. But before I'd leave, Phoenix Wright would ask about the fourth piece of evidence, the card, which, knowing Scruffy, the foolish detective wouldn't hesitate to tell him about it, to which I would respond that it's my trump card for our next encounter, filling him with excitement and wonder. Then, just maybe, during or after that next encounter, we could become friends and maybe someday… something more.
I know that fantasy sounded like something straight from some foolish romantic 'comedy', but I just couldn't help it. Sure, I despised every fiber of that man for over a year, but that wasn't because I hated what he had done to me, not who he was as a person. And after spending some time thinking about what Phoenix Wright said after his first loss, I now see that those actions were not out of ill intent. During Miles Edgeworth's trial, he used the evidence and testimony at hand to prove that my little brother was innocent and merely uncovered the dark truth about Papa. I was a foolish fool to believe that Phoenix Wright intended to strike down Miles Edgeworth and make him suddenly disappear. After all, Phoenix Wright seemed to be as devastated about Miles Edgeworth's situation as I was. But that didn't matter. Phoenix Wright probably despised every fiber of my being as he should… It was bad enough that I attempted to destroy his career, but I tried to do to him the very thing that drove me to seek revenge: I wanted to take someone he loved dearly away from him, Maya Fey…
He cared about her dearly- obvious by how he fought against me tooth and nail to get her fully acquitted. If Phoenix Wright truly cared more about his career than that girl, he would have just went with the easier argument of justified self-defense, ruining Maya Fey's life just as Hammond did to Yanni Yogi. Not to mention, the reason why Miles Edgeworth experienced his first lost was because Phoenix Wright chose to defend that very same girl who was accused of murdering her sister, who also served as a mother figure for her and Phoenix Wright's mentor. Now that I think about it, their relationship is similar to that between me and Miles Edgeworth: there's the same age difference between me and Maya Fey and Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth, seven years, and the latter group has a connection to the former group via their mentors who are related to them.
However, there's one major difference between their relationship and my and Miles Edgeworth: inseparability. Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey met a little over a year ago and their relationship was already stronger than my and Miles Edgeworth's actual sibling bond which had existed for 15 years. Phoenix Wright was willing sacrifice all that he believed in, desperately trying to acquit a clearly guilty man, to save her. Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand, practically vanished from the face of the earth, leaving me behind to deal with Papa's passing alone, just like he had been doing for so many years. If I was kidnapped by de Killer, would Miles Edgeworth go to the same lengths to save me? Probably not, considering that he tried to get Matt Engarde convicted while Maya Fey was a hostage.
But like I'm one to talk. I knew about Maya Fey's situation, yet I resorted to running across town to retrieve evidence for the sole purpose of defeating Phoenix Wright and proving to others, but mostly myself, that I was worthy of the von Karma name. I was essentially trying to murder an innocent person to avenge my fallen record… just like… Papa.
Suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted as they announced that it was time to board my flight over the intercom. However, before I could board the plane, I was stopped, just as I had fantasized, but instead of the person being Phoenix Wright, it was Miles Edgeworth. And upon seeing my little brother's face, I was simultaneously filled with two completely different feelings: sadness and joy.
Sadness from the fact that it wasn't Phoenix Wright standing before me. Sure, I saw this coming from a kilometer away, but it still didn't change how much it hurt. Phoenix Wright was probably celebrating the outcome of today's trial, not paying any heed to me as he was too busy enjoying Maya Fey's presence and friendship. No, friendship is the wrong word, for friendships are fickle and can be broken with but a single tribulation- the one-sided one that I had with Phoenix Wright and the one that he had with Miles Edgeworth. What Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey had was stronger than the mere bonds of friendship, for they were both ready to put everything they had on the line for each other- evident with how Maya Fey jumped in front of Papa's stun gun to protect Phoenix Wright. Their bond was the kind of that brought together two souls and made them one, a bond of love and one that I fantasized that I could possibly have with Phoenix Wright someday. But it seems that it wasn't meant to be, that I had once again lost… my third one- only this time, Maya Fey was the victor.
But while these negative feelings stirred around in my head, I felt… happy. Sure, Phoenix Wright wasn't there, but Miles Edgeworth was. And for the first time in many years, it felt like I had a brother again- one who was willing to comfort me, to tell me that there was more to life than mere victory. Hearing those things from Miles Edgeworth, the man who had been my superior in every way, shape, and form growing up, meant more to me than all the wealth I had gained during my career, or all the praise that the legal community had ever given me. My little brother… saw me as his peer…
Of course, I could never let him know I felt that way. I could just picture the smug grin forming across his face, feeling high and mighty as if he was strong and I was weak. So I pretended that his words meant nothing, telling him that I always hated him, something that couldn't have been farther from the truth, but I couldn't hold it my feelings any longer. And so, I told Miles Edgeworth why I was so determined to beat Phoenix Wright, how I didn't want to be in his shadow any longer. Then suddenly, it happened… After years of holding them back, my tears began to flow, my cheeks growing red as I sobbed to Miles Edgeworth that I would one day surpass him before running to my plane and catching my flight.
So here I am, sitting on a 13-hour flight to Dresden as I recall the events of my life leading up to this moment- the times when I was angry, and the times I was happy; the moments when I felt love, and the moments that I felt hate; the days when I had a friend, and the days when I was alone. But looking back on it all, there is one thing that I am certain of: I have grown and matured as a person, especially in the past year.
When I first heard of Papa's crimes from Miles Edgeworth on that fateful day, I was in absolute shock. I couldn't comprehend how a man of such brilliant intellect and strong will could stoop to becoming no better than the very criminals he prosecuted. But now I know all too well because until today that was me. For over a year, I was filled with nothing but fury and embitterment, the only thoughts in mind were how Phoenix Wright wronged me and how he needed to be struck down. The only difference between me and Papa was that he was given the perfect opportunity to kill the man who had wronged him. Had I been in that situation- no witnesses, Phoenix Wright lying unconscious at my feet- I wouldn't have hesitated to do the same.
But now that I think of it, Papa wasn't as perfect. After all, the reason he sought out vengeance in the first place was because he was given a penalty on his record and let his emotions, the very things that he warned us stood in the way of perfection, get the best of him and drive him into a blind fury. Papa never really talked about our ancestors other than how we had to follow in the perfect footstep, so perhaps he was like me when he was my age- a frustrated child that had to carry the weight of perfection on his shoulders. And maybe the reason why he never showed me and Miles Edgeworth love was because that was how he was raised. But there were two major differences between me and Papa: One, I became a prosecutor at only 13, whereas he became one at 24- proving that I am just as capable, if not more so, now than he ever was. And two, I have learned that to be perfect, I can't run away from my mistakes and blame them on others, something that only leads to pain and a hollow sense of victory. I have to change my way of thinking so that those mistakes don't arise again- a lesson that I have Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth to thank.
As I take my eyes off the card in my hands and quickly glance at the sunset, I am reminded of myself, how the sun is setting on my old way of thinking- my fear of failure, the need to be like Papa- and that tomorrow shall be the dawn of a new age for me, Franziska von Karma- an age where I am my own person and will set out to forge my own path instead of following the on that Papa had walked before me.
Watch out, Phoenix Wright, for the next time we meet in court, you will face a more perfect, more confident Franziska von Karma and I will claim my first victory. Then, once the dust clears, I will show you my trump card.