My wife, Charlene Weber, has taken me to the Scumbag Court.

If I'm found guilty, all my assets will be taken from me, and I'll face 10 years of imprisonment. Charlene, on the other hand, will get to marry her ideal man—Joel Quinlan—as she wishes.

If I'm acquitted of all charges, Charlene will be made to divorce me without alimony. She'll also be cursed with bad luck and disfigured so badly she'll be the ugliest woman in the world.

Conversely, I'll be given 10 million dollars in reparations and gain a lifetime's worth of good luck.

Everyone is advising me to admit to my mistakes, but only because Charlene has always been a virtuous, devoted wife in their eyes. They think that there must surely be some complicated grievances between us at the moment.

However, they are unaware that I've been reborn.

This time, I'm going to tear off Charlene's mask of hypocrisy.

I stood in the defendant's seat in Scumbag Court as a bailiff put the memory-retrieval helmet on me.

The judge, Aiden Faire, mechanically informed me of the precautions, "Once the Judgement Helmet has been worn, you'll be deemed guilty if you back out midway. Your life will be forfeit. Are you sure you wish to put on the helmet, Hanson Quill?"

My heart did not waver in the slightest. I nodded firmly.

Charlene Weber looked at me with a trace of guilt in her eyes.

That was right. Charlene, my wife, whom I'd been married to for five years, had taken me to trial in Scumbag Court.

It was for no other reason than to divorce me, leaving me with nothing to my name. She wanted me chained and thrown into prison, after which she would take my money and live happily ever after with her dream man.

However, they had no idea that I'd been reborn.

In my previous life, I didn't wear the Judgement Helmet at all on account of our past affections. I pleaded guilty in the face of public opinion.

If I were found guilty, I'd simply lose my assets and be imprisoned for 10 years. On the other hand, Charlene would be disfigured and plagued with bad luck, and her life would be in danger.

At that time, I didn't know why she did it. I simply assumed she had misunderstood me because she didn't understand my straightforward and sometimes oblivious way of showing affection. I couldn't bear the thought of dooming her to such a terrible fate.

As such, I proved that I was a complete soft-hearted fool. I later learned that Charlene had gotten married to Joel Quinlan almost as soon as I was imprisoned. When I heard the news, the senior inmates were in the middle of banging my head incessantly against the cell's iron bars.

In the end, I was beaten to death in prison before I even finished my sentence.

"In that case, let us begin!" ordered Aiden.

There was a large screen above my head that was connected to similar displays throughout the country.

"Hold on!"

Charlene stood up hurriedly, attracting everyone's attention.

She then said pitifully to me, "It'll be painful to wear the Judgement Helmet, Hanson. I can't bear to see you suffer. If you admit to your crime, you'll only have to serve your sentence in prison.

"However, if the truth is made public, your reputation will remain ruined even after you're released. How are you going to continue living your life?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, everyone looked sympathetically at her.

"She's such a great woman. Why doesn't this scumbag know how to cherish her? He even had to be a cheating bastard. He really doesn't know how good he has it."

"I'm Charlene's neighbor. She's generally very approachable and treats Hanson really well. It's no exaggeration to claim that she's the kindest, most loving wife."

"That's right. Even now, this woman is speaking up for that scumbag. We're in favor of just convicting the cheating bastard and letting him rot in prison, Your Honor!"

What a thing for the people in the audience to say. They said Charlene was speaking up for me? They said she was a kind and loving wife?

Charlene seemed to have forgotten that she was the one who took me to court in the first place. She was also the one who wanted to ruin my reputation.

She spoke so casually about me going to prison. Did she intend to let me die under a false accusation again, just like in my previous life?

If I hadn't found out about Charlene having an affair with Joel, I might have actually been moved by her sincerity right now. I might have listened to her advice and pleaded guilty on the spot.

Instead, I sneered. "What is it? Are you afraid I'll tear off your carefully crafted mask and expose you for who you really are?"

Charlene choked, rendered speechless by my words. She glared venomously at me when nobody else was looking.

Wonderful. This was her true face. I honestly had to give her credit for pulling off her act around me for so long.

Charlene burst into tears, acting as if she had endured many grievances for the sake of the family.

"What are you talking about? I've been married to you for five years. I've cooked and cleaned for you, allowed you to physically and verbally abuse me, and even turned a blind eye to your adultery. Everything I do is for the sake of our family. Was it wrong of me to do all that?"

Charlene had been like this in my previous life as well, starting right off with a deeply moving speech. She mentioned how hard it'd been for her to take care of the family and how she'd even quit her job for my sake.

I only found out after I died that Charlene had gotten into trouble with her company and was subsequently blacklisted by the entire industry. She had been left with no choice but to hide at home.

Everyone in the audience continued to criticize me. I was now an unforgivable brute in their eyes.

I stopped paying attention to them and just said, "Let's begin."

Aiden was looking at me with a bit more contempt in his eyes as well. He issued an order, and the device was turned on. I felt as if there was a strong electric current passing into my brain. My entire body twitched in pain, and I started foaming at the mouth.

Nobody showed any sympathy for my predicament. The audience clapped instead.

I began to see viewer comments appear in front of my eyes in text form.

"This is how cheating scumbags should be treated. A small electric current like that is nothing! It wouldn't even be enough for an electrotherapy session!"

"Who exactly would date this kind of man? He committed domestic violence, adultery, and even talked back! I'd certainly like to see if he'll be able to leave the defendant's seat with his head still held high!"

"I say we just electrocute him to death."

I gritted my teeth and tried not to pass out from the pain.

How could I allow the bastard duo to get a happy ending?

Fragments of my memories began playing out on the big screen.

"You must be tired, dear. I've heated up some milk for you. You should drink it while it's warm."

In the memory, I was facing the computer in my study. When I saw that Charlene was here, I hurriedly motioned for her to leave. My expression probably looked a little scary.

The viewers started to flood my view with comments.

"What's with this attitude? You're being so impatient with your wife when she went out of her way to bring you some warm milk late at night! How ungrateful!"

"If I were his wife, I'd have thrown the milk in his face."

I could tell that the audience's resentment toward me had increased.

After watching the memory, Aiden frowned and pronounced his verdict. "No scumbag behavior has been displayed in this instance. Hanson Quill is not guilty."

Viewer comments instantly started flooding in.

"There must be some mistake. How is this not considered scumbag behavior? He's showing his wife such a terrible attitude. Is the judge blind?"

"There isn't any manipulation going on behind the scenes, is there? This damned scumbag must have bribed the judge! I'm reporting this!"

The memory continued to play out on screen.

Charlene ignored my attempt to stop her and continued to walk in my direction.

She even muttered, "I've already heated it up twice. Drinking milk is good for your health. I don't care what you're doing right now. You'd better stop and drink it first!"

The senior executives on the call with me were giving me displeased looks. I hurriedly apologized to them and muted my microphone.

Then, I said helplessly, "Just place the milk here, dear. I'll drink it in a bit. I'm currently in the middle of a very important video conference involving a multi-million dollar project. I can't screw this up."

Even though I explained things patiently to Charlene, she started kicking up a fuss. "Hanson Quill! Every day, all you care about is money, money, and more money! Is it wrong for me to care about your health?

"I do the chores and cook our meals every day! And yet, I hoped you'd appreciate that I brought you a glass of milk. Am I delusional for thinking that?"

As she spoke, she knocked over the glass of milk, which spilled all over my computer.

I hurriedly tried to save my computer, but it was too late. The computer short-circuited and started to smoke.

The project was pretty much a lost cause. I glared at Charlene.

Not only was Charlene completely unrepentant, but she even put her hands on her waist and shouted self-righteously, "It's just a broken computer! Do you have to glare at me like that? I was truly blind to have married someone like you!"

She promptly left, slamming the door behind her.

"Like, am I the only one who thinks this woman's so-called concern feels really stifling? He already told her he was in the middle of an important meeting, and he was very patient with her. How does that make him a scumbag?"

"Hey, the viewer above me. You'd understand if you'd experienced being a housewife for several years. There are all sorts of expenses to juggle and a lot of unseen labor to handle. It's really frustrating work. Is it so difficult to get a word of thanks from one's husband?"

I sneered at the sight of the heated arguments going on in the comments.

This group of onlookers, who knew nothing about the actual situation, was actually trying to accuse others from their moral high ground.

Charlene, who was among the audience, probably noticed that there were people speaking up for her. She started wiping at her tears as if in great anguish.

"I was just concerned for my husband. I was afraid that the milk would be bad for his stomach if he had it cold. Those of you who've never experienced being a housewife won't understand my suffering. I work myself to the bone every day.

"I also don't have a job, so I can only reach out to my husband for money. Considering that I live dependent on someone else, I'm always very cautious with my behavior. I just don't want to be abandoned by my husband."

Charlene burst into tears as she spoke, which immediately elicited sympathy from the ignorant onlookers.

The large display was split into two. One side showed my memories while the other showed a live broadcast of the courtroom. As such, I could see Charlene's pretentious act, which made me feel sick to the stomach.

The viewers were still chatting actively in the comments.

"A woman still needs her own career in the end. Our husbands always feel like they're giving us a lot of money, but only we women know how much it costs to sustain a household."

"Exactly. If his wife is that tired, why not just hire a housekeeper?"

I smiled and watched Charlene guiltily avoid my gaze.

I then looked coldly toward the camera. "First off, I hand over almost all of my hundred-thousand-dollar salary to Charlene every month, including my year-end bonuses. All I keep on hand is money for cigarettes and transportation.

"Secondly, I did hire a housekeeper for the family. If you don't believe me, I can show you the receipts."

For a moment, the viewer comments stopped appearing, and nobody voiced any more accusatory remarks against me.

It was Charlene's turn to panic this time.

"A hundred thousand dollars is hardly a large sum! All I can buy with that is a single bag," she stammered evasively. "The housekeeper also doesn't do a thorough job, so I'm still forced to clean up after her."

"Even if what you said is true, what about the domestic violence you subjected me to? That certainly happened, didn't it?"