The lobby was quiet, except for the occasional stifling of a sob as Sycamore came down from the episode. Maya stood next to the man with her hand upon his shoulder, offering him a look of sympathy.
Phoenix shared in that feeling, though it was joined with a bit of doubt...or guilt. I wonder if I went too far this time...
"I'm...I'm sorry...that you had to see that," Sycamore said as he sniffled, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Not just you two...but everyone, as well. I should not...have lost my composure...not like that."
"Don't worry about it," Phoenix told him. "I'm the one who should apologize. I think...I pushed too hard on the issue of your motive. But if one thing is clear from your testimony, it's that you were in a great deal of pain when you first assumed the guise of Jean Descole. Even now, you're still in pain...but I think a lot of people understood your reasons for the plot. Obviously, it doesn't excuse what you did, but at least the ones in the audience can walk away with that much."
"I wonder how much of a comfort that is, after all that I've done..." Sycamore put his glasses back on and folded the handkerchief, stuffing into his front pocket.
"Huh?" Phoenix looked over Sycamore's shoulder to see the lobby doors opening, a young girl entering. Wearing a salmon-colored dress and dark boots, she had striking eyes, and brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her expression was that of a much older person's, someone who carried a great burden upon her shoulders. "Hello there, miss. Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?"
"Professor..."
Maya moved away from Sycamore, and the two turned around to face the owner of the voice. Sycamore reacted with great surprise. "Flora?! Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you'd decided...you would have nothing to do with me."
"Please, there's no need for that," Layton's voice called out, and a moment later, the man appeared behind the girl named Flora. "It was I who brought her, but it was entirely her decision."
Sycamore's eyes traveled from the other professor to Flora. "Is...is this true?"
The girl nodded, stepping forward to make room for Layton. "I rang the office earlier, hoping that Professor Layton would be there. He wasn't, but Dean Delmona happened to be leaving a memo for the professor at the time. He was so nice...I explained what was going on, so he made a few calls while I completed my exams. I had this feeling...I needed to be here. I realized...I wasn't being fair to you. I know people have things in their pasts they aren't proud of...but you...you're at least trying to make things right. So...I had to come here. I had to see what you would do..."
"Incidentally, we were present during that last testimony," Layton said, closing the door. "I must say, Desmond, that took a great deal of courage to reveal what you did. Are you all right?"
"Oh. Y-yes. I've calmed down some."
"Professor Sycamore." Flora had spoken the name, but her gaze was directed at the floor. "That horrible thing that happened to your wife and daughter...it wasn't an accident after all, was it? And all because that awful Targent took them from you..."
"Flora."
The girl looked up as Sycamore approached her.
"Listen to me. No matter what I've been through, it doesn't excuse my behavior. There are people who could have easily lost their lives because of me-"
Flora's stoic expression finally broke. "I know!" she shouted, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I know you did some terrible things! I know that! But it doesn't mean you're a bad person. Sometimes...sometimes people do things they would never do in a million years when they feel like they've lost everything, or everyone. But if the judge doesn't understand that, then...then..." She ran to Sycamore, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to go, Professor! It's not fair!"
Sycamore let out a sigh, and held the girl as she wept. "Flora...I'm sorry. But this is something I absolutely need to do. It isn't right for me to have done all of those things and never to have faced the consequences. You know this. I won't lie to you about the outcome of this trial. I've confessed my guilt, after all. I've been running away for so long, but I won't run away from whatever punishment awaits me." Moving his hands to her shoulders, he created some space between them. He then brought one hand beneath the girl's chin and gently lifted it, prompting her to look up at him. "Listen, Flora. I want nothing more than to return home with you and the professor. But I know I can't do that for as long as my crimes continue to haunt me. I want to start over with a clean slate. Please...I know this is a lot to take in, but I hope one day you'll understand. You deserve those who bring light to your life. I am not capable of that at this moment, but...thanks to everyone, I believe I will be in time. And while I cannot tell you what to do with your life, I hope...you'll be there when I return."
Flora pulled back further, staring at him with an expression that seemed to say I miss you already. "I...I understand. I've been trying new things, Professor, just like you said. I want to be able to show you the progress I've made."
Sycamore wiped away a tear from under the girl's eye, showing her an encouraging smile. "You will, Flora. I look forward to it."
"Professor Layton," Phoenix could hear Maya softly saying. "Could I ask you a favor?"
"Oh..." Layton, who had been watching the scene before him, turned around to the young woman. "Of course, Ms. Fey."
"Is there a library around here, or a records room of some sort?"
What on earth is she up to? Phoenix wondered, but before he could ask, the door opened again.
"The trial will reconvene shortly. Please take your places now."
"Nick, will you be okay without me?" asked Maya.
"Sure," said Phoenix. "But...what's up?"
"I need to go check on something. Professor Layton is going with me. We'll be back soon."
"Oh...okay. See you later, then."
Phoenix was scanning a document when heard shuffling and other sounds. He looked up into the audience, watching as everyone returned to their seats. He could see the girl named Flora sitting next to Luke and his parents. In the row before them was the girl named Arianna, who was with a younger boy, and an older woman. They all bore serious expressions, though for different reasons.
"The court is now in session for the trial of Desmond Sycamore," said the judge. "Are you feeling better now, Mr. Sycamore?"
"Oh, yes,Your Honor," said Sycamore with a smile, his face red for a different reason now. "I apologize for what happened earlier. The memories came all at once...I think I was overwhelmed."
"One could hardly blame you, Mr. Sycamore, given the tragedies you endured. Still, this trial must go on. Mr. Edgeworth?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Edgeworth said. "Mr. Sycamore, from your testimony, we can conclude you were suffering from grief and loss at the time you took up the guise of Jean Descole and put your plot into motion. None of this is sufficient proof to make a case of temporary insanity, but you knew that going into this trial."
It's not like he made a case to begin with, thought Phoenix.
"And regarding your motive, you previously claimed revenge for your lost families, but earlier you revealed something else – a profound sense of guilt, perhaps even shame. You appear to blame yourself for something that Targent did, simply because you refused to be bullied by them. You even went as far as shedding your name and identity as a way to escape this blame. But the act was Targent's, and Targent's alone. They can justify retaliation all they wish, but it does not put the responsibility of their actions on you. You are not at fault for what happened to your wife and daughter."
Sycamore lowered his gaze. "...I understand."
"Then you also understand that nothing you suffered justifies any of the suffering you brought upon anyone else."
"I do."
"In that case...there is one final thing," Edgeworth said. "I confess I have been curious about how your plot, in its form from that point forward, came together. Why you decided to carry it out while in disguise - a most unusual one, at that."
"After...after I'd lost my wife and daughter...and my faith in the system...revenge became my sole purpose in life, as everyone knows. I needed to attain this goal by any means necessary, so I began to research as much as I could, about both Targent and the Azran. I did what I could to stay many steps ahead of Targent... at least, until the Azran ruins at Monte d'Or were revealed."
"And the disguise?"
"That was..." The flush returned to Sycamore's face. "...you might say...a manifestation of my guilt, as well as my despair. The world did not need to know how I'd failed to protect my family. But also, it was easier to move around without Targent following Desmond Sycamore's every move. And...that also made it easier to escape the consequences of breaking multiple laws."
"I see," said Edgeworth, looking over at the defense. "Mr. Wright, if you would..."
Phoenix nodded, and set down the document he was holding. "Mr. Sycamore, you say you needed to get revenge 'by any means necessary.' According to records, several institutions, including prestigious universities, funded your research on the Azran civilization. Would I be correct in assuming this funding is what allowed the incidents in Misthallery, Ambrosia, and Monte d'Or to take place?"
"That is a safe assumption, Mr. Wright," Sycamore replied. "I did earn money lecturing throughout the years, but the funding mostly enabled me to build the technology I required and to hire henchmen as well. There were additional sources along the way, of course."
"How exactly did you plot out the incidents at the three Azran sites?"
"Several years had passed before I'd made a breakthrough in my research. While translating Azran text was my specialty, even I could only read so much text in a day. Eventually, this led me to a site that, to my dismay, was located in the middle of a well-populated town."
"Misthallery."
"Yes. From there, I did what I could to research the town itself. The specter of legend - I'd believed it to be nothing but a myth at first, so I went ahead with my plan to excavate in the streets. I knew I would not receive the approval of the mayor, so I secretly enlisted the help of the police chief with promises of riches, and of course...the engineer, by means of blackmail. Raymond, my butler, also assisted...in nearly every part of my plot as well."
"You forced the engineer to build machines for excavation," said Phoenix. "These excavations then took place at night, under cover of fog."
Sycamore nodded. "As I said, I had taken the specter to be a myth, but I was determined to use anything to my advantage. The story served me well...to a point. Unfortunately, the creature from the lake had realized what I was doing and did her best to stop me. After that...well, that has already been laid out in court."
Right... thought Phoenix. "Once you were fully defeated by Professor Layton and his friends, how did you happen upon the second Azran site?"
"That one was easier, due to the existence of relics, as well as partial copies of the Ambrosian crest. Based on legends, the city could only have been on an island. Since the markings of the crest represented musical notes, I required someone with a musician's talent...and so I sought out the famous opera composer, Oswald Whistler. The fact he had an ailing daughter... was pure coincidence. Still, I needed to provide some incentive for him to help me decipher the music. The Detragan originally was intended to play the music...and excavate if the need arose... but I added an extra feature to motivate Whistler."
"The means to extract his daughter's memories, preserve them for a while, and transit them to another person."
"That is correct."
The judge shook his head. "That...still boggles the mind...regardless of how many times I hear it."
To everyone's surprise, Sycamore chuckled. "Yes...I suppose it would. I am sorry. A part of me truly did relate to Whistler's situation, even as I attempted to use him in my plot. I don't claim to be correct in my actions, with the game or the kidnappings. Honestly...I don't know what I was thinking, aside from revenge."
"Regarding the kidnappings," Phoenix started, "at what point did they begin?"
"Shortly after Melina died. Whistler was inconsolable, and I thought this the perfect distraction and focus for him. We must have abducted a dozen girls before I finally resorted to the plan for the opera."
"That's...a lot of victims."
"True...but a mere fraction of the audience for the opera. Initially, I did not want to involve so many people, but after a while, I had no choice but to create the game. None of the girls were acceptable candidates to sing the Song of the Sea."
Hmm... As Phoenix searched for the next question to ask, a familiar presence returned—the young woman dressed in white and lavender. He could hear a soft rustling as Maya's hand placed a pair of newspaper clippings on top of the bench, deliberately pushing them into Phoenix's view. Unable to ignore the act, he looked down, noticing the title – Blaze Claims Two Lives, Two Survive. "Wait," he said, nearly inaudibly. "Is this...?"
"And what a game it was!" exclaimed the judge, breaking Phoenix's concentration. "Building a boat disguised as a theater, luring attendees with promises of eternal life...!"
This time, Edgeworth chuckled. "And here I thought no one was paying attention to details."
"One doesn't forget details such as those, Mr. Edgeworth!"
"As you say, Your Honor."
"I...am neither able to justify the magnitude of that plot, nor its level of deceit," Sycamore said. "But I was willing to get my revenge by any means necessary. This included building the Crown Petone and creating the game while Whistler composed the opera. And...of course...selling the tickets for the show. Many were willing to pay a high price for the chance at eternal life...and...I was willing to exploit that."
The judge shook his head. "What a terrible thing to do." Similar hushed opinions echoed around the gallery.
Phoenix finally brought his full attention back to the trial. "Speaking of the Crown Petone... according to Inspector Grosky, it was blown up at some point during the game. There were several hundred people in attendance, yet none of them were caught up in this explosion. Why is that?"
"It was always my plan to transport those who failed to solve the puzzles back to land," Sycamore explained. "After all, there was no need for so many to be on the island."
"How did you accomplish this?"
"The Crown Petone was equipped with two undersea vessels, one of which contained the people sent back to land, and the other, my henchmen and me. As for the ones who made it to the island via boat, I temporarily imprisoned them until the ruins rose."
"We heard from previous testimony that as you battled Professor Layton, you experienced a fall and were presumed dead. Since you are here now, I assume something saved you at that last moment."
Sycamore nodded. "My butler, Raymond...he did more than tidy up a household. He could operate multiple vehicles, including airships and airplanes. He was always one step ahead whenever my actions proved...rash. He was ready when I fell, and transported me back to safety. I took a few days to recover before the next stage: the ruins at Monte d'Or."
Edgeworth spoke up then. "As you all know, due to the wishes of one man who resides in the city, the charges that were mounting were dropped. But it is because of this that the court has yet to hear the story. Mr. Sycamore, there was more than just a desire to continue your plot, correct?"
"...Yes." Sycamore lowered his eyes; it was apparent the question had dredged up feelings of guilt. "Monte d'Or...though large in size, is a mere twenty years old. It was created for one reason...to find the young man who had disappeared in the area while exploring Azran ruins."
"A whole city owing its existence to a search for a missing person," said the judge. "Incredible...and touching, if I may say so."
Sycamore forced a smile, but it was clear he was still uncomfortable. "Y-yes, Your Honor. The truth is...I found him in the eighteenth year of his disappearance. After reading of the tragedy, and investigating the area, I correctly deduced that... after falling into the chasm, he washed up on the shores of a nearby village. It was clear he had lost his memory, and so..."
"And so...?"
The bespectacled man finally lifted his head, projecting his sights out into the audience, his expression filled with remorse. "I supplied more than enough details for him. However, I did not do so nobly. I needed to search for a relic and its corresponding mechanism, and I was looking for something to distract the people from my efforts. And so, I...I manipulated the man into playing a role that would hold the audience's attention. He, too, was motivated to do so by revenge, because of the lies I'd fed him."
The judge looked unsettled, his expression an accurate visual representation of the audience's murmurs. "You...took advantage of an amnesiac?"
"It's despicable, isn't it? Yet I found it easy to do so, because I myself was so focused on revenge that I had no room for remorse...at the time."
"What role, exactly, did you have this person play?" Edgeworth asked.
"It was a role known as the Masked Gentleman. Monte d'Or had no shortage of entertainment, but everyone was drawn to the 'dark miracles' of the Masked Gentleman. Horrifying feats of magic...or were they? Audience members turning into horses, paintings coming to life and terrorizing citizens and tourists alike, people being drawn into the sky and vanishing, or spontaneously bursting into flame..."
"Mr. Sycamore!" shouted the judge. "Please assure this old man that you did not cause people to burn to death, or...those other dreadful things!"
"No, no, no..." Sycamore insisted, now looking sheepish. "Of course not, Your Honor. These were all very convincing illusions, nothing more. Those in attendance marveled at them, and I am told that it took many months for the discussion to die down. Ha. Sometimes, I fear I have missed my calling as a special effects creator, or a theater producer..."
Really, Mr. Sycamore? Phoenix thought. Now is not the time to be tooting your own horn...
"The dark miracles weren't just a distraction, however. The man who established the city was in possession of the relic I sought...or so I believed. The dark miracles were a way of pressuring him to give it to me, which ultimately backfired as he never had the relic to begin with. Of course, no one was actually harmed...until the final dark miracle." Sycamore's expression quickly turned serious. "I had become desperate, my plot turning reckless at that point. I had kidnapped and was impersonating an important citizen, and I had convinced the one playing the Masked Gentleman to set off explosives that would cause the city to be engulfed in sand."
"Explosives?!" exclaimed the judge. "And what would possess you to do that?"
"It was an attempt to force Layton into helping me achieve my goal. I knew that once the city was in danger, he would act to help me at the specified location, and help produce the relic I needed. That time, I had been correct. When we activated the mechanism, the city itself rose, putting it out of harm's way."
"Hmph. Perhaps you did miss your calling. You appear to have a knack for theatrics."
"That he does," said Edgeworth. "Mr. Sycamore, I presume there was another function of this mechanism?"
Sycamore nodded. "It was to activate the Azran ruins there-the Nautilus Chamber. Recall that, as a condition for accessing the Azran Sanctuary, three important sites had to be activated."
"Yes, of course. What happened after that?"
"Layton exposed my plot, not surprisingly. I managed to flee, while the missing man returned to the ones seeking him. Unfortunately, the newly uncovered site fell into the hands of Targent, as did the others. It would be some time before I was able to proceed with the next phase and contact Layton and his friends."
"Who helped you seek the Azran keys," said Phoenix. "Being a master of disguise, it was only then you showed your true face...rather, as you appear now."
"Yes," said Sycamore. "I had hoped that enough time had passed so that Layton would not recognize me. Stepping back into the skin of someone I had previously declared dead was...surreal. It was not surprising how far more comfortable I was in my disguise."
"Speaking of your disguise...may I ask how that came together?"
"That is...pieces of the original costume were made from items owned by my wife and daughter. Even the ones not assembled from their possessions were inspired by them in some way. Perhaps...it was a way of having them with me, of having them bear witness to my plot. If I succeeded, they would know I had avenged them. If I failed...they would still be with me, in some way..."
While Sycamore was talking, Phoenix could see Maya reaching over and lightly patting the newspaper clippings. Phoenix was about to tell her he had already seen them when he realized she had been uncharacteristically silent since her return. I think she even missed an opportunity or two for a quip. That's when he remembered he had only seen one of the articles. I guess she wants me to look at the other one...this must be what she asked Professor Layton to help her find. He looked down and set aside the top clipping. Let's see...there's some lady's picture...curly hair, blonde. She's pretty. Who is...? His mouth fell open slightly as he read the words. Oh...! An obituary. "Wow..." Phoenix whispered. "Sounds like Mrs. Sycamore was a pretty cool lady...though I'd gathered that much from Mr. Sycamore's testimony earlier."
Maya only offered a soft "hmph" in response. It might have been Phoenix's imagination, but she almost sounded amused.
"In retrospect, I merely tarnished their memory, instead," Sycamore continued, looking every bit as ashamed as he sounded. "Of all the things I could have done to honor them, I chose something so very stupid and thoughtless. Had I stopped for a moment, I would have remembered that revenge wasn't something either one of them was ever interested in." His gaze had drifted toward the floor once more, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. "When they were with me, I had finally found my peace...it's a pity I couldn't hold on to their memory in that sense. They...they would be horrified to know what role they played in my plot...and disgusted at what I had become..."
"That's not true, Desmond, and you know it. You have always thought well of others; will you not do the same for yourself now?"
The interjection was enough to grab Sycamore's attention and end the episode before it started. He was looking in the direction of the defense's bench, silent and dazed.
Whoa, thought Phoenix, realizing the voice had come from the woman at his side. Either Maya's been perfecting her accents, or Mr. Sycamore's wife was on the petite side. He finally turned to his right, confirming his suspicions. The woman standing there was different from the woman he was used to seeing. Her figure was slightly fuller than Maya's, and her face matched the picture from the obituary, though now framed by straight, black locks instead of golden curls.
"Why does anyone seek revenge?" the woman continued. "'A man who has lost everything charges toward the reason why. When he fails to find it, he cries to the heavens for the meaning in his suffering. When that, too, eludes him, he does not pardon the one who so injured him but instead demands recompense, for it is only in revenge that he...'"
"'...believes he will find salvation,'" Sycamore joined in. "'Though his loss is tragic, the true tragedy lies in the blindness of his wounded heart, which strives to commit any vile act, for as long as it remains beating.'" He finally showed a small smile. "Sorensen's The Brittle Blade. You remembered."
"I remember the man you were," she said. "I remember the man...you will always be."
"Desmond Sycamore, the complicated human being with complex emotions," Edgeworth cut in, turning toward the defense. "I believe this is the argument that the...defense wished to present? The prosecution concedes...on that point, at least."
"I imagine it would take such a person to devise the plot that he did," said the judge. "Working in the shadows, acting callously yet allowing reunions between loved ones...seeking revenge but later volunteering to help save a town...traveling with and even protecting those he previously had considered enemies..."
"Speaking of that, I'd like to h-" Phoenix stopped himself, glancing over at Edgeworth, who simply gave him a nod. He cleared his throat and then continued. "I'd like to hear your side of things, Mr. Sycamore. According to Luke, you all traveled the globe in search of Azran relics."
"Those were...better times," Sycamore admitted. "Despite my ultimate goal, I did enjoy their company...Layton, Luke, Emmy, Aurora...and even the cat Emmy brought on board. I know Raymond felt the same. I'd like to think the rest did as well. The adventures we experienced, the memories we made, and the people we met...there were times I was able to forget the plot and be present in the moment."
I can't imagine how exhausting it must be to live a life of revenge, or to have to fight yourself just to be able to relax. "Sounds like it was beneficial for everyone...at least up until the point you turned."
Sycamore appeared contrite, breaking eye contact from time to time. "Yes...I couldn't leave behind that side of myself. I regretted what I did...but at the time, my revenge was more important. Or I did my best to convince myself of this. I was constantly warring with myself. The two sides of Desmond Sycamore locked in an eternal battle...one despair, and the other hope...the man who answered the call of death versus the man who fought for life...there was a moment a victor was ultimately declared."
"And what moment was that?"
"It was...after I'd found myself working with Layton and Luke to get around the Sanctuary. I knew how dangerous Azran ruins could be, but I'd let my guard down after solving a particularly challenging puzzle. Regrettably, I had failed to fully disable one of the statues...and it had set its sights on Luke. I don't know what came over me. I had no time to think...I just...acted and..."
Phoenix nodded. "Luke said the statue shot out a burning beam. That must have been painful, being the recipient..."
"I shall spare you the details," Sycamore said. "But yes, it was enough to cast me to the ground. The pain was excruciating. I was certain I would die there...so I told Layton everything concerning our past. He'd forgotten everything...as he should have. He knew it was important to stop Bronev...but I don't think he truly understood why. These events...didn't just impact me, they impacted him too. In the end, I am grateful he was there."
They never stopped being brothers, despite Mr. Sycamore's attempts to disrupt that, thought Phoenix. "Despite what happened, you were able to catch up with everyone else somehow."
"I...had a change of heart concerning my imminent death. If I was to die, I had to see the greatest Azran puzzle to its conclusion. Layton was certain the answer meant doom, and I could only trust his judgment over Bronev's. Layton was correct, of course...so we all had to work together to disarm the threat born from Bronev's answer to the puzzle. We nearly lost our lives in the process, but were saved by the Azran girl. After that...I should have followed Bronev into prison, but..."
"You ran away."
Sycamore nodded. "It may sound strange, but I'd been in a prison of my own making this past decade...no, these last thirty years. I just wanted to know freedom, true freedom, for once, without the threat of having loved ones taken from me, or the burden of revenge. I wanted to travel the world without a bitter purpose, to meet new people and try new things on my own terms. I wanted...to live. And so I did...for a peaceful few months."
"Until the night your airship crashed," said Phoenix.
"Yes. Suffering the loss of Raymond hurt more than anything, and it closed that chapter of my life. Raymond...was my constant companion, and he did so much for me. In some ways, terrible ways, he was enabling, as difficult as that is to admit. If not for him, I don't believe I would have succeeded in such grandiose plots. They were my ideas, but he went above and beyond in helping them become reality."
"Raymond's death...is this what convinced you to turn yourself in?"
"Not entirely. A chance encounter with Layton gave me the opportunity to reflect on my many misdeeds. I had hurt Layton, and many close to him...yet he still embraced me as a brother. I knew I could not move forward until I had proved myself worthy of his respect, and...the respect of the young girl he had taken in, the girl with whom I had unexpectedly formed a bond. And...after all that I did to those caught up in my plot...they deserved some sort of closure. I could think of no better way than to be tried for my crimes. And so...I decided to turn myself in."
"Which has led us all to this moment," said the judge. "Well, then, does the prosecution have anything else to present? Any further statements?"
"The prosecution has made its position clear," said Edgeworth. "Desmond Sycamore was driven to commit his crimes after suffering multiple losses and tragedies, but this does not absolve him of his actions. He is guilty of all that he stands accused."
"And the defense? Do you have any other statements to make?"
Phoenix nodded. "Yes, Your Honor." He looked at the woman beside him, and then around at the audience. "It is as the prosecution says...Desmond Sycamore has not led a typical life. Losing his family at a young age through cruel circumstances, and then pursuing a happy life only to have that also stolen from him, he believed that revenge was his only remaining course, and was willing to achieve this at any cost."
The audience was quieter this time, but a few whispers could be heard here and there.
"Yet there were moments proving that his old self wasn't completely gone," Phoenix continued. "It is due to this that the outcomes of his schemes were not worse than they could have been. It is the reason he contined to reach out to those who experienced losses of their own, why he reunited a missing person with his family, and why he put himself in harm's way to protect a child, the same child he had recklessly retaliated upon a year prior to that. It is why he agreed to work with others to stop a worldly threat...and it is what led him to turn himself in to the police two weeks ago." He paused. "When I first took this case, I was not out to prove his innocence. But...as a good friend once told me, anyone who stands accused of a crime deserves a fair and proper defense. I hope I have succeeded in this area today, not just for Mr. Sycamore, a man whose motives and actions have proved as complicated as his life, but for everyone impacted in some way by his plot."
"I see," said the judge. "Then it seems we have come to the end of this trial." He turned toward the witness stand. "Mr. Sycamore, it is clear that the system failed you multiple times during your life. You and your brother should have received more consideration and care when your parents were taken from you, yet this did not happen, and you were forced to make a choice that no young child should ever have to make. When your wife and daughter were taken from you, we should have done more in justice's name, yet we did not. I cannot apologize enough to you, but going forward, I will do my part in preventing this outcome for others in a similar situation." The judge started to look more emotional. "I have two young grandsons. I don't see them everyday, but I can't imagine doing anything to ensure that I would never see them again. Mr. Sycamore...your losses were beyond cruel, and I can certainly see how a man would break after finally finding happiness, only to have it seized from him, especially when this echoed a similar traumatic event from his childhood." His expression reverted back to a more serious one. "But the fact of the matter is...we all have choices in this life. Perhaps other paths weren't as clear to you, but you chose a path you knew would injure others. Even if you weren't aware of the actual numbers until you were well into your plot, you chose to continue. While the court sympathizes with you, it cannot condone the harm you have brought upon so many others. As this trial began, you had entered a guilty plea. You knew what you had done, and that there was no escaping the consequences." The judge shook his head. "Enough. I will now render my verdict. This court finds the defendant, Desmond Sycamore...guilty."
The pounding of the gavel did little to mask the great sigh expelled from the direction of the witness stand.
I guess...Mr. Sycamore got what he wanted, thought Phoenix.
"Since this was a most unusual case," the judge continued, "I am moving the sentencing hearing to tomorrow at ten o'clock."
Huh? So soon? But I would've thought-
"Mr. Wright, I can see from your expression that you have many questions. Please see me in my chambers in ten minutes. Mr. Edgeworth, that applies to you as well. This court is dismissed."
"Yes, Your Honor," said Edgeworth.
Phoenix turned to the woman beside him, hesitating. "Um...Mrs. Sycamore, I have to go see the judge, but if I could ask a favor..."
The woman smiled. "There's no need to ask. There is much I have to discuss with my husband, after all..."
Phoenix couldn't help but notice how similar her smile was to Sycamore's. He truly did see that time as blissful. "Oh, of course! Thank you. Um, I know we haven't been formally introduced, but if I don't see you later, it was nice to meet you."
"Likewise, Mr. Wright."
Desmond Sycamore had never been more nervous in his life.
As he was escorted back to the defense's lobby, his mind leapt from thought to thought. How was he going to endure the years in which he was to repay his debt to society? His stomach was already in knots, yet he managed to feel more frantic with each passing second. Was this how Mr. Wright felt before each new trial? And why was he wasting time wondering about that when he had literally just seen a ghost?
The woman he knew in so many ways, clad in the outfit of the young woman he had only met days before. He had witnessed the same scene play out for someone else that first day, and yet, he could hardly accept the truth of it now.
After so many years, Anna Sycamore had returned, and with a message for her husband. It was something he would have given his life and soul to hear, but now that he had taken in her words, he wasn't sure what to do with them, or how to even react to her presence, which in itself was an unexpected and impossible act...
He must have looked as depressed as he felt, because the moment he entered the lobby, he heard "Is that the face you show to me after all these years?"
Surprised, he snapped out of his mood, and saw Maya standing there, still channeling the same woman from before. "A-Anna..."
Anna's expression softened as she took in his appearance. "Hello there."
At a loss for words, Sycamore gazed back at her. "Oh...h-hello."
In an attempt to break through the awkwardness, Anna threaded her fingers through her black tresses. "I would wager this is one look you weren't expecting to see on me."
That finally got a chuckle out of Sycamore. "I wouldn't say that."
"Then what would you say?"
"That it becomes you."
Anna smiled in response. "You've always been kind," she said, taking a few steps forward.
Sycamore's expression fell as he followed suit. As he approached her, he broke eye contact. "Not so much these last ten years..."
"Desmond."
Sycamore looked at her as she brought a hand to his cheek. Warm, he thought. Gentle. I am undeserving of such a gesture at this moment...
Anna slowly moved her head from side to side. "Don't do that," she softly ordered. "Don't act as though you aren't deserving of love, of kindness. These last ten years, no one has been in need more than you..."
A sigh escaped Sycamore, accompanied by a few tears. "Anna...I've missed you so...and...I'm sorry for what happened back then. I couldn't protect my family as a child, but as a grown man...I'm so sorry I wasn't there...that I didn't return in time..."
"There you go again," Anna said, caressing him still. "Didn't you hear what that prosecutor said? It wasn't your fault. We wanted to surprise you, Millie and I did. We'd found a most wonderful souvenir in our travels. Millie couldn't wait to see your face when she showed it to you. If anything, I'm the one who should apologize. Something was amiss when we returned home, but I ignored my instincts..."
"No." Sycamore shook his head. "Please don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen."
"That applies to you, as well."
Sycamore moved away, just out of her reach. He turned around, his back to her. "I...I suppose."
"All we wanted to do was to see one another. That is not a crime."
"No..."
Anna came forward then, wrapping her arms around the man's torso. "Oh, Desmond..." she said with a sigh, resting her head against his shoulder. "Desmond, how I've missed you. I've thought about us a lot, about...that last night we were together."
"As have I. Countless times. It was a warm night. I can still recall the scent of your perfume..."
"Yes. Emerald Waves, I believe it was called."
"You were absolutely stunning in your dress," said Sycamore.
Anna smiled. "You told me over dinner...and again as we danced..."
"I was...simply content to be with you. The music, the wine, the way you moved with me..."
"Spending the whole night in your arms," Anna reminisced. "Waking up in your embrace..."
"There is no treasure greater than the memories in my heart," said Sycamore. "I am...blessed...to have made so many memories with you." He couldn't help it; he had started to sob. "I know...I know it could not have lasted forever, but why did it have to end so soon? Just when I had found true happiness..." He shivered as the tears fell again.
"I know," Anna told him. "I was happy too. I never doubted for one moment that I was loved by you, that you would have spent the rest of your life with me. You were a wonderful husband, and a wonderful father as well..."
"But I never...I mean...I was rarely home those last few months."
"You were continuing your education. It was necessary. We'd already discussed that."
"Still...I could have made more of an effort to be home," said Sycamore.
"That is all in the past," Anna said. "We do what we can, we make what choices we are able to with the knowledge we have. You wished to provide a better life for your family. There is no sin in that."
"I suppose..."
"You said you had found happiness. The wonderful thing about happiness is that it is not limited to a single episode within our lives. You can find happiness again in this life, even if you don't believe you can. In fact, I think you are very close to it."
"What do you mean?"
"Your life...it has changed so much these last few months. From attaining your goals, if not exactly in the way you'd planned, to losing Raymond, to reuniting with your family. Happiness can come with change. You and your brother are becoming just as close as you were as children. And...that girl, Flora...I can see the bond that has formed between the two of you."
Sycamore gave a small laugh. "Honestly, now you are sounding like Layton."
Anna chuckled in response. "Well, I am told he is a highly intelligent man. And he is right. Desmond, you realize that the reason you were able to achieve happiness is because you allowed others into your heart. That was true of me, and it was true of Millie. I want nothing more than to see you do the same with the ones currently in your life. Be there for your brother, and be there for that young girl. You have all become family, and I think you know this on some level."
"Yes, you're right," said Sycamore. "But I fear that will impossible after today's verdict..."
"That does pose a problem. But you've always been the creative type. I'm sure...you will find a way."
"I..." Sycamore turned back around as the woman let go. "I pray you're right." Doubt tugged at him again, and he lowered his eyes to the floor. "Anna...are you...disappointed in me? All of the pain and suffering I brought to others...I know that is not the man you married."
"No," she replied. "He isn't. The man I married...he was not lost. I confess...I wish there had been a far more favorable path, a much kinder one...but to think ill of you because you were struggling, because you were in pain...I couldn't do that. It's true that you brought suffering to others, but in some way, you also brought joy. The man named Jean Descole...he could not remain forever on the stage. It was inevitable that Desmond Sycamore would return, that despair would retreat in the presence of hope, and goodness would win out..."
"I don't know...if I believe that..."
"Then tell me...what has brought you here, Desmond? Why are you standing in this chamber, following a case where you have just been declared guilty?"
Sycamore reached up with a hand, lightly touching her cheek. How many times have I held this face? "There was no one in my life more kind than you. Even when I couldn't see the good in myself, when I adamantly refused to do so...you were there, doing your best to convince me. I thought...I thought...'so this is what it is to truly be loved.' I couldn't forgive myself for not saving the woman who opened my eyes. It was...it...you deserved so much better..."
"Desmond..." Anna's expression softened. "It seems I haven't fully convinced you. What happened to Millie...what happened to me...that was not your fault. Only Targent is responsible. Please...mourn if you must, but do not waste the rest of your life looking backward. I am happy to be in your heart, but please...don't hold back. Live your life...for you...and for everyone else in your life. I...I will be watching over you..." She stood on her toes, planting a kiss on his cheek, and then moved back. "I want nothing more than to be with you...but...my time here is limited."
"I understand."
"Take care, Desmond. Millie, Raymond and I...we all wish you the best..." Before she could complete the phrase, she had started to collapse.
Sycamore caught her as she descended. "Anna...?" When he pulled her back up, however, he found that he was holding an unconscious Maya Fey. "Ms. Fey..." he murmured. "I thank you..." He carried her over to the bench, carefully positioning her across the seat. He then moved back, taking a moment. He sniffled, drying his tears. After a deep sigh, he lifted his head and turned around...only realizing then that the two weren't alone.
Three familiar faces were there, all visitors from the previous three days. Clark Triton, Oswald Whistler, and Randall Ascot were studying Sycamore with expressions different from the ones they had shown him earlier. There was a softness to Clark's usual serious expression, while Whistler did his best to act as though he had no stake in the outcome of the trial. Randall himself appeared uncertain, but did not seem to emit any degree of hostility.
"Ah..." Sycamore went from stunned to timid within a short breath. "H-hello there. I...I confess I am ill-prepared to receive anyone at the moment, but I imagine you have much to say, so I will do my best to respond."
Clark spoke first. "I thought nothing of it then, but there were times Luke seemed to be protecting you...or, perhaps, Hershel Layton. I never knew that the great Desmond Sycamore was the one who caused my family and town so much suffering and fear. I knew of a 'bad man' who was seeking Azran relics at any cost, but Luke was careful to leave details vague...especially surrounding Desmond Sycamore's disappearance. For a long time, I thought that Jean Descole had killed you...I suppose, in a way, that was true..."
"Clark..."
"At times I still struggle to understand. You had lost all hope. Yet, after experiencing the pain of your losses firsthand, you still tried to kill my son. You nearly robbed a father of his child, despite having been subjected to that hell youself. Even if it wasn't planned..."
Sycamore's expression was filled with genuine shame. "I know. It was wrong, and you have every right to hate me for it. Had I stopped for a moment to think, I would not have done what I had done. I don't know what else to say, except that I'm sorry. Out of all my sins, I regret this one the most. I always will."
"I know," Clark replied. "I believe that is what led you to protect him at the potential cost of your own life. For all your terrible acts, you are compelled to compensate. You are a complicated man, Desmond, but that is not entirely without its benefits."
"I don't know if that is something to be celebrated..."
"No," Oswald told him. He was finally showing some emotion, looking a bit conflicted...yet determined. "Mostly, we are attempting to make sense of your actions. Even though I participated in your plot, there were moments something tugged at the corner of my mind. That mysterious connection...I had no idea. I never knew that the reason you sympathized is because you had experienced a grief much like my own. You kept yourself together, and kept your true self well-hidden. I am not pleased with how it all turned out, but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. I had become...far too emotionally dependent upon my own daughter, even as she was dying. I had unintentionally placed one more burden upon her...I regret this. After Ambrosia, I was...able to reflect in my cell, and reevaluate my life. Melina was gone, but that didn't mean that I had to stop living."
"I...I see."
"I've reflected too," Randall said, stepping forward. "At least, during this trial. As a participant in your plot for Monte d'Or, I couldn't help but wonder why you picked me. Why you were so insistent upon getting me to believe that I had been betrayed. It was more than just manipulating someone into the role of Masked Gentleman. Anyone could have played that part, after all. But you saw something in me, specifically. I don't think it was the mere fact that Henry and Angela were seeking me. Mr. Wright opened my eyes when he said...you had a tendency to reach out to those who had experienced their own losses. That's when I realized...you weren't simply trying to hurt me, though you still managed to do just that. You were trying to connect with me, and...recruit me as a witness to your own story."
Sycamore looked at him, perplexed. "What do you mean?"
"The storybooks you instructed me to hide within the Reunion Inn...they told of betrayals. I thought since you had lied about my having been betrayed, that the stories were also lies. But the truth is, it was you all along. You were the one betrayed...by your own father, by the organization, Targent. Even the Masked Gentleman himself...he was another part of your story."
"Y-Yes...I suppose he was."
Randall shook his head. "Please don't misunderstand. I am still trying to process the rest, and I am still angry with how you treated me, but...it is no longer a mystery to me how a man of your nature can be so quick to hurt others. I lived with the pain of 'betrayal' for a mere two or three months. The rage I felt within such a short time frame...I can only imagine how you felt over the course of ten years."
"I am sorry," Sycamore said. "I truly am. I was blinded by my own situation...but that did not give me the right to force you into a similar one. Of course you would be in shock from the truth of learning who you truly were, and susceptible to anything I said. I am...honestly surprised you didn't strike me more than once."
Randall chuckled. "Well, I have always been more talented at swordplay than hand-to-hand combat. The knuckles of my hand sting, just thinking about it. Anyway, we wanted to tell you that we have a better understanding of what happened now..."
"So much has been revealed these last few days," said Oswald. "I can finally put to rest these doubts that have plagued me since my own arrest."
"My own doubts have been quelled as well," Clark chimed in. "The doubt that I was doing all that I could to protect my family, the doubt that I made the right decision in resigning as mayor, and...the doubt that the man who threatened my family and wreaked havoc on my town could be redeemed in any way. I wish you the best from this point forward, Desmond. I believe...you could use it."
"Yes...you're right," Sycamore said sadly, and then forced a smile. "Thank you. Thank you all. I was...not expecting this meeting, or its outcome. As I serve my sentence, I hope to remember this moment...and the kindness that still exists in the hearts of men."
(To be continued...)
