The Grim Reaper looked at me and asked, "Do you accept the trial?"

My mouth moved, but no sound came out.

I wanted to tell Mom that I was feeling a little cold and if I could skip the punishment.

I wanted to ask Dad if Southville was fun.

Seeing that I was not answering, whispers began to ripple through the crowd below.

"Look at her. She looks like trouble! If her own parents are saying this, there's no way it could be fake."

"She's only 7 years old and already so heartless and vicious! Having her soul destroyed might be too merciful. Kids like this should be thrown into the deepest level of Hell!"

Another said, "Just hurry up and pass the sentence already!"

Those words were hurtful.

I saw the corner of Mom's mouth lift slightly, and Dad even straightened his back. They were certain this judgment was in the bag.

However, all I could think about was if my soul was destroyed, would I finally stop feeling cold?

So, I nodded.

The Grim Reaper announced, "The trial begins!"

Mom was the first to step forward. "Grim Reaper! Let me go first! Joy's first crime is spreading rumors about Grace, trying to turn people against her. She was jealous that Grace was pretty and popular, so she went to one of Grace's male classmates and said Grace was messing around and had multiple boyfriends! At such a young age, how could her mind be so filthy!"

A screen of light appeared in the air.

In the footage, seven-year-old me cornered an older boy on his way home from school.

The boy asked impatiently, "What exactly do you want to say about Grace?"

I kept my head down, my fingers twisting the faded hem of my worn shirt. "Grace has been with a lot of guys."

"What? Speak clearly!" The boy frowned.

I flinched hard, my eyes reddening. Even so, I still stammered out those filthy words bit by bit.

Then, the scene shifted to Grace in her classroom. The girls who used to chat and laugh with her now whispered behind her back, while the boys looked at her with mocking stares.

Grace sat at her desk, confused and isolated by everyone.

The footage cut off abruptly.

Grace clapped her hand over her mouth, staring at me in disbelief. "Joy, why did you-"

I kept my head down, staring at my shabby shoes, saying nothing.

The cold light from the screen shone down on me.

A moment later, the platform hummed, and two large words appeared: [Accusation Failed.]

The scene instantly became deathly silent. The next second, the audience erupted.

"Failed? How could it possibly fail?"

"It's rigged! Absolutely rigged! That screen showed it clear as day! The little brat said it with her own mouth!"

"Exactly! She's vicious, spreading rumors about her own sister, and there are both witnesses and evidence. Why doesn't it count?"

"Did she bribe the Grim Reaper?!"

"Silence!" The Grim Reaper slammed the gavel heavily, his voice booming like thunder. "If the charge doesn't stand, there's evidence for it! Continue the footage!"

The screen lit up again.

It was the same house. This time, Mom dragged me away from my homework into the kitchen, keeping me away from Grace, her face anxious and fierce.

"Grace has been talking to those boys a lot lately! If this keeps up, she'll go down the wrong path. You need to find a chance to talk to someone in her class, or someone who's friends with those boys, and tell them Grace is a wild child, that she's dated tons of guys! Make them stay away from Grace!"

I shook my head in terror. "No! Mom, I can't say that about Grace!"

A slap landed across my face.

"If I tell you to do it, you do it! This is all for Grace's own good! Do you want to see her get led astray?!"

Seeing me still crying, Mom pinched the soft flesh on the inside of my arm and twisted it hard.

Pain shot through my body, and I trembled all over.

Mom hissed, "Are you going or not?!"

Eventually, I dragged my bruised arm, tears still streaming down my face, and found that boy.

On the screen, every hesitant word and every pained expression on my face was magnified. There was no smugness of someone spreading rumors, only the fear and struggle of a seven-year-old being forced to do something wrong.

At the end, Mom stood outside the window. She watched Grace's lonely figure walking alone and smiled with satisfaction.

"Good, now no boys will dare get close to her, and she can finally focus on her studies."

The video ended completely, and the entire hall fell deathly silent.

Every gaze turned toward Mom was filled with shock and disbelief.

Someone exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, the mother was the one who told her to do it?"

"Is she crazy? She's making Joy slander Grace's reputation! They're both her daughters!"

Another whispered, "What did Joy do wrong? She's only seven! She was just a tool used by her own mother!"

"This family is terrifying."

Mom's face flushed red, then pale, and under those stares, she looked like she was sitting on pins and needles.

She whipped around toward Grace, who was still sobbing. "I did it for your own good!"

Then she panicked and shouted to everyone around, "Even if that one doesn't count, she still stole money, right?! And she conspired with traffickers to sell her siblings! Those two alone are enough to send her to Hell!"

The second charge began its judgment.

The screen appeared, showing how our neighbor, Alfred Grant, had a sudden stroke and was taken away by ambulance. His wife, Margaret Jensen, grabbed their bankbook and all the cash in the house, rushing to get to the hospital.

I followed her down the stairs. As she went, I suddenly rushed forward, snatched the ragged pouch with the money, and ran.

Margaret stumbled and fell, screaming hoarsely, "Hey! Those are our emergency money!"

I ran as fast as I could with my head down. Just as I burst out of the alley, I was caught on the spot by two police officers who seemed to have been waiting there.

The stolen money was still on me, leaving no room for denial.

The audience buzzed with discussion.

"Look at that! How can anyone defend this? She was caught red-handed!"

"She still grabbed it even after hearing it was their emergency money. Her heart is pitch black!"

"She's this bold at such a young age. Imagine what she'll be like when she grows up. Good thing the police got there fast!"

The light from the screen enveloped me once again.

[Accusation Failed.]

Seeing that it failed again, Mom shrieked, "How is that possible?! The police caught her!"

The footage continued playing, showing our home.

Tommy was caught stealing money from a classmate, so our parents were called in. As a result, he was suspended for three days.

Mom dragged him back home, shut the door, and then turned toward me, where I was standing in the corner as punishment.

"Joy, go snatch that pouch with Mrs. Grant's money! Let Tommy understand the consequences of theft!"

I shrank back in fear. "No! Mom, that's Mr. Grant's emergency money."

"You're not going?" Mom growled as she crouched down and grabbed my shoulders. "If you don't go, I'll throw you in the graveyard on the back hill! I'll let the ghosts haunt you! You're useless anyway, just a burden!"

Mom shoved me out the door, and with the last dollar I had, I called 911.

Next, following Mom's orders, I followed Margaret and snatched the money. Then, I ran toward the alley entrance where the police officer told me to go.

In the shadows at the alley entrance, Mom tightly held Tommy while whispering in his ear.

"Look quick! Joy got arrested! If you steal, you get arrested! Will you dare do it again?!"

Tommy was shaking all over in fear.

Meanwhile, the entire hall erupted in chaos. Accusations and curses instantly flooded toward my parents like a tidal wave.

Someone scolded, "Are they even human? Who teaches their kids like this?!"

"They made a child steal life-saving money just to scare their son?"

"That poor girl. She called the police! She was trying to get the money back safely!"

Mom's face turned deathly pale in the roar of voices. "So what?! She still conspired with traffickers, didn't she? Just that alone is enough to send her to the deepest pit of Hell!"

The trial for the third charge began.

The screen showed me standing deep in an alley with several unfamiliar adults, occasionally peeking around the corner.

Grace walked closer, holding Tommy's hand.

I turned back and exchanged a glance with the scarred man beside me, then nodded. Then, I rushed out, pretending to trip, and fell in front of Grace and Tommy.

"Grace! Tommy! Help me!" I reached out toward them.

The scarred man and another accomplice immediately lunged out, grabbing my arms and dragging me deeper into the alley.

"Joy!" Grace cried out, trying to rush forward.

Tommy was also frozen in fear, clutching Grace's hand tightly.

Just then, Dad and Mom came rushing out from somewhere and grabbed Grace and Tommy, holding them back.

"Don't go over there! It's dangerous!" Dad's voice was stern.

"Those are human traffickers! If you go, you're walking into a trap!" Mom pulled Grace and Tommy tightly into her arms.

The footage stopped abruptly.

"That's crazy! Was the kid really working with human traffickers?"

"How could it be fake? Look at that look in her eyes, that coordination! She's the one who lured them over!"

Another commented, "She's so young, yet so vicious! She'd even harm her own siblings!"

A moment later, the platform displayed the words again: [Accusation Failed.]

"Failed again?!"

"What kind of ridiculous judgment is this?!"

"She clearly coordinated with traffickers and acted it out. That doesn't count as a crime?!"

The crowd completely lost control, furious and shouting.

Mom raised her voice and accused, "Grim Reaper, you saw it yourself! She exchanged signals with them! That's a conspiracy! The evidence is solid! We refuse to accept this judgment!"

Dad also shouted, "Joy! Say it yourself! Were you trying to hurt Grace and Tommy? Did you want them to be taken away? You heartless monster! We never should have had you!"

"Silence!" the Grim Reaper said sternly.

His commanding gaze swept over my parents before finally settling on me. "The judgment continues."

The scene returned to our home from a few days ago. The TV was broadcasting news about missing children cases, and my parents watched with grave expressions.

That evening, Mom said to Dad, "Just talking about this stuff doesn't work. They need to see it with their own eyes so they'll be scared."

Dad pondered for a moment. "Who would we get to act it out? Find real criminals? No, that's too dangerous.

Mom replied, "We'll get those young punks who always hang around the corner, give them some cash, and have them act the part convincingly. We'll watch from nearby the whole time, so nothing can go wrong. We'll stage a scene where Joy gets grabbed by human traffickers. Let Grace and Tommy see what happens when you don't stick close to adults and wander off."

A few days later, Mom brought me to the street corner and handed me over to the scarred man and another accomplice.

Mom stuffed a roll of cash into their hands. "Just scare them a bit, don't actually hurt the kid. We'll be watching from the other end of the alley."

"Don't worry, we'll get the job done," the scar-faced man said with a grin, patting my head hard.

I shrank back slightly.

The plan began, and I did what they taught me: ran out, fell, cried out.

The scarred man and his partner rushed out and grabbed me.

Dad and Mom pulled back Grace and Tommy, who were trying to rush forward, as planned.

However, something went wrong.