Prologue

The plane landed roughly, shaking the rows of seated passengers and rattling the overhead baggage. Those stuck in the back found themselves even more cramped than usual as they awaited to disembark after a flight much too long for any normal person to cope with.

“Here at YouFly airlines, we’d like to be the first to welcome you to Los Angeles, or wherever your final destination will be. For connecting flight information…”

With a groan, Ema Skye unbuckled her seatbelt and stood shakily, forcing her eyes to stay open against the relentless jetlag assault. She peered out the small plane window through rose-tinted sunglasses, trying to take in as much of the runway and airport as she could before walking down the long aisle to the exist.

Home.

Something about seeing the Los Angeles International Airport again shook her up terribly. Fiddling with a piece of hair dangling in front of her face, Ema felt so preoccupied by everything about being back. The last time she had been in America was over eight years ago, and the weight of return hung over her like her own personal rain cloud.

And yet, despite the worry, the anxiety, and the fact that she hadn’t seen a familiar face in years, a thrill of excitement coursed though her veins as she trekked through the airport and retrieved her bags.

Sis. Mr. Wright. Mr. Edgeworth!

Hailing a cab proved easy, and as she found herself rushing towards the city limits, Ema was once again reminded of why she was back. Studying abroad for so many years had trained her for this: her purpose. The interview is in a week, she thought, knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip on the taxi door handle. And the proficiency test! I’m just a few steps away from science—real science!

It was about a half an hour’s ride from the airport to her new apartment. One bedroom, nothing to write home about in terms of square footage, but it was hers all the same. She set her things down, glancing around at the stark lack of furnishing, and rushed to the window to stare down five floors to the streets below.

I’m back.

Chapter One

Smeared black ink… your palms are sweaty,
And I’m barely listening to last demands
I’m staring at the asphalt wondering,
What’s underneath where I am…

I wear my badge… a vinyl sticker,
With big black letters adherent to my chest
That tells your new friends, I am a visitor here
I am not permanent

---

Where did all my confidence go? Thought Ema dryly as she walked slowly across the parking lot. Each step she took was shakier than the one before, black heels clattering on the pavement, as if they were announcing her new presence—the fact that she was indeed new here. The walk to the LAPD precinct headquarters had taken her much longer than she expected, and yet she was a good twenty minutes early for the interview.

Calm down, Ema. You’ve got this. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve had an interview—remember high school, and the Academy, she chided herself, trying to push aside the fact that this was, in actuality, her first job interview. Breathing deeply, Ema tried to imagine how her sister would take on this challenge.

Lana. She would know how to handle this situation. She could probably pass the proficiency test with her eyes closed, education abroad or not. She would be able to have the interviewer eating from her hand within minutes, and would have secured the job. But of course, things can’t be so easy for me! Studying until I drop, and I’m still as nervous as ever.

Ema’s arms felt like lead as they pushed the clear glass doors to the precinct open. The feeling of numb nervousness never left her as she fixed a visitor’s ID badge to her lab coat and scrawled her name onto the sign-in. She nodded a quick, silent thanks to the guard as he pointed her way down the halls and began walking.

The office was small, with a window covering most of the black wall and bookshelves lining the side walls. A single mahogany desk was in the center, with a dull-looking man peering over rectangular glasses at her.

“You’re Miss Skye, correct?” he asked in a raspy voice, putting away something that looked like a report.

“Yes, sir, ” Ema replied, nearly choking from the effort of speaking while nervous. “Interviewing for a job—as a forensic scientist, that is. If I’m in the right place; that’s here, right? And I haven’t taken the proficiency test too, and I don’t think this is where it will be, so—”

“Shh,” uttered the man, holding up a hand. He nodded with a bit of a grunt, and adjusted himself in his large swivel chair, smiling. Pulling his glasses off, he peered at Ema for a moment, pausing. “Take a seat, Miss Skye. Let’s begin!

As soon as Ema was released from the precinct for her testing, she felt a bit more confident, though she tucked away all memories of the practical portion of her forensics proficiency exam in a corner of her mind where they would never be visited again. You’re this close, Skye, she thought to herself. Now all you have to do is wait. Ahh! My phone!

The theme to the Steel Samurai accompanied a rattling vibration in her coat pocket. Fishing the phone out, Ema flipped it open and held it up to her ear.

“Ema?” said the voice at the other end. Its familiarity filled Ema’s chest with a warmth as she heard it.

Ema grinned, speeding up her pace. “Hey, sis! What perfect timing for your call—I just got out of my job interview down at the precinct. We haven’t talked in forever. What’re you up to?”

“You know, maybe we should discuss further over lunch or something,” replied Lana. “Since you’re back and all, and I’ve been free for a few years now.” She laughed, and Ema winced at the memory of her sister’s time in jail, and its circumstances.

“Uh, sure. How about… now? Why don’t you meet me at my apartment? Just warning you, though—it’s a fifth floor walk-up!”

“Sounds fine to me,” said Lana. “You’ll have to tell me what’s happened in the past week since you left the Academy!”

Ema clicked the phone shut, rushing towards her apartment now. Oh, it’s times like these I wish I had a car, she grumbled internally. Or a bike. But, scientific analysis is clear—it’s healthier and less dangerous to walk.

She was a few blocks from her apartment when a display in the front of a bodega caught her eye. Row upon row of bags filled with chocolate-covered snacks were sitting under a sign advertising a sale.

Ema’s eyes lit up. She reached inside her purse to fish through papers and her scientific necessities to find her wallet. Something was so appetizing about those snacks that she just had to get her hands on. It was only when she was walking out of the store with five bags crammed into her purse that she realized how hungry she really was.

Arriving at her apartment left her breathless from the walk. “So out of shape,” groaned Ema as she struggled with the lock and bolt to stumble into her living room. She threw her bag on the couch and shuffled to the bathroom to fix up her appearance before Lana arrived.

---

“Oh, look at you, Ema! You’re so much taller than the photos made you seem! But you still won’t get rid of that lab coat, will you?” said Lana through a tight hug. Ema squirmed free, bewildered at the intense cheer emanating from her sister.

“Scientifically speaking, Lana, I’ll be needing this coat for work soon,” said Ema, breaking away from the hug. “If everything goes well, that is. So… lunch?”

Lana nodded. “I’ve already made reservations. Let’s go.”

Prepared as always.

---

The lunch date went smoothly, as planned. It wasn’t like Lana to have things not go smoothly, after all. All the catching up that the sisters had to do had flown over Ema’s head in moments, and soon she was curled up on her couch, with nothing but a blank white wall to stare at, and with nothing to do.

God, who thought that living in a new place could be so boring? I can’t even figure out how to get into contact with Mr. Wright... so few friend’s I’ve got here after all, I guess, thought Ema, glancing around her bare apartment dolefully. She found her hand rustling through her purse, her fingers grasping around an inviting plastic bag. Taking the package of baked snacks, Ema popped one into her mouth, feeling a release of stress with the chocolaty taste.

She stayed that way for the rest of the evening, until at some point her head stared nodding and her eyes drifted shut.

---

The weeks until Ema received the phone call passed slowly, but preciously. She floated around the streets and the apartment in a dream-like state, clinging onto her newfound snacks to keep her company in the lonely spaces. She had almost completely forgotten about the proficiency test and her job interview when the letter came in the mail.

“The results!” shouted Ema as she opened her small mailbox on the base floor of her walkup. She ripped the manila envelope open, fumbling with it as she ran up the stairs at a breakneck pace. The papers inside were man in number—that was supposed to be a good sign, right?

It didn’t take her long to read the report. It took longer to figure out what it meant. And to believe it.

“To: Miss Ema Skye
From: Fredrick Dalton, Forensics Head

Thank you for taking the forensics proficiency exam! We appreciate your interest in taking part in the LAPD’s forensics department. Your test results are as follows:

Written examination: 96/100
Practical examination: 31/100

We’re sorry, but the score wasn’t sufficient to qualify you for a job in the forensics department of the Los Angeles Police Force. Thank you for your efforts.

Signed,
Fredrick Dalton, Forensics Department Head, LAPD”

The call came that day too, offering the job in the homicide department. Ema’s hands were numb as she gripped the phone, and muttered her agreement. Lana was the next person she called, though all words of comfort bounced off her mind like rain on a tin roof.

---

You seem so out of context
In this gaudy apartment complex
A stranger with the door key
Explaining that I am just visiting

And I am finally seeing
Why I was the one worth leaving.

LA sleeps alone tonight.

Chapter Two


Once I was a young man
Looked over vales and hills
Saw myself a future
of riches and of thrills
But on me fifteenth birthday
I paid my union dues
And they sent me deep into the ground


“Hey, Ema,

Your first day of work’s coming up, isn’t it? It may not be exactly what you wished for, but things may shape up to be better than you thought they’d be. Just remember to keep your chin up, alright? You’ve got to make a good impression as soon as you step in there. You may even be working with the prosecutor sooner than you think, after all. Call me one of these days; now that you have a real life, we should have more to talk about. In any case, good luck with the new job. It feels like almost yesterday I was starting out as a detective. Just don’t let anything happen to you, alright?

Love,
Lana”

Ema sighed as she packed her belongings into her pink purse. Dejected as she was about her first day at the job she didn’t want, she couldn’t deny her scientific instincts, packing all the necessities along: fingerprinting powder, luminol testing spray, samples of her favorite chemicals, and two bags of chocolate snackoos. On her way out of the small apartment, Ema glanced into the mirror to adjust her red necktie and roll up the sleeves of her labcoat before bolting the door behind her and walking slowly down the stairs.

The thirty-minutes walk route to the precinct provided a refuge for Ema as she took in the familiar sights around here. There was something oddly peaceful about the Los Angeles streets in the morning. Sure, it was a car town, but walking gave Ema a chance to calm her nerves and roiling emotions before showing up at her new workplace.

Ema was just plucking a snackoo from her first bag of the day when an unpleasant rumbling began fading in from behind her. It was a nasty, gutteral sound; not at all pleasing. Somebody sure needs a new muffler for their car, thought Ema, exasperated at the disruption of her morning peace. The rumble grew to a deafening roar as a gust of wind sent Ema’s labcoat fluttering. Gripping her glasses, she squinted, trying to make out what had caused the disturbance.

Of course, she thought after successfully identifying the culprit. Some punk on a motorcycle. And an ugly shade of auburgine. Or is that maroon? I should probably analyze that color some day. And I bet it was going a good 30 miles per hour above the speed limit—I sure hope that driver passes by the patrol cars outside the precinct.

Ema had no idea exactly how close to the precinct that motorcycle would be going.

---

“And this here will be your desk, pal,” said a broad shouldered man wearing a coat that seemed much too old for its own good. “Look, you get a swivel chair and a lamp and everything! That’s more furniture than I’ve got at my pad all together.”

Ema forced a wry smile at her tour guide. “Thanks, Detective Gumshoe,” she replied, settling her bag on the desk, which looked pristine from its disuse. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, pal, I’ve shown you the break room, hallways, and most of the offices… oh, right! I guess you’ll need to introduce yourself to the High Prosecutor. He is our boss, after all,” said Gumshoe, scratching his head.

Ema’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Mr. Edgeworth! It’s been so many years since we last met. I wonder if he’ll remember me after all this time.”

“You know Prosecutor Edgeworth?” responded Gumshoe excitedly. “We worked on lots of cases together, back in the day. My salary was always suffering from it, though. Huh, it hasn’t improved in recent years though, pal. I’m still on a steady diet of one cup of instant noodles a night.”

Ema winced.

He led Ema down a few passages, each one vaguely familiar. Ema had, after all, spent some time here as a child. She ran through several ways to greet Prosecutor Edgeworth in her head, not wanting to sound too awkward, but not boring either.

“Here we are, pal,” said Gumshoe, hand on the doorknob to the High Prosecutor’s office. “Good luck in there. I guess I’ll see you later. Got someone to meet, you see…” His voice trailed off as he shuffled away, leaving Ema in front of the large, familiar maroon door.

Alright, Skye. Here goes nothing. She pushed open the heavy door.

“Wh-what is this? Mr. Edgeworth?” gasped Ema, her words lost in a stream of earsplitting rock music. Covering her ears against the assault, Ema glanced around the room, dread seeping through her. Oh god, no. It can’t be.

No suit mounted on the wall. No flowers or tea set or King of Prosecutors trophy. No chess set, no book shelves, no refined, polished desk—what was happening? The office was like nothing Ema would ever expect from Miles Edgeworth, with a trio of flat-panel television screens mounted in front of a high-end massage recliner. The only desks in sight appeared to actually be over-sized speakers used as desks, and were covered with scattered papers and CDs instead of organized stacks of documents. And on the wall, what was once a library filled with law books was replaced with the world’s largest guitar display. And then there was that awful music…

“Mr-Mr. Edgeworth?” called Ema. “What happened?” She looked around, trying to locate a person in the office. She had to squint hard through her pink glasses to make out the shape of a man lounging in the chair in the back. “Hello?”

“Is that the voice of a Fräulein I hear?”

The speaker’s voice was deep and smooth in the most obnoxious of ways, with a hint of some sort of European accent. Ema couldn’t quite identify it, despite her exposure to various European cultures. She was sure of one thing, however: that was not Mr. Edgeworth.

The man lounging in the chair got up and walked towards her, waving a remote at the speakers and cutting the music off. He had the strangest of hair styles, with long blonde bangs and something that looked vaguely like a cross between a unicorn’s horn and a ponytail dangling in front of his shoulder. He wore a popped-collar black oxford shirt with a plum-colored jacket on top of it. Chains dangled everywhere. Who the hell does this guy think he is? thought Ema. A rock star or something? But somehow… he looked strangely familiar.

“It’s not nice to stare, Fräulein,” said the man in that voice of hers. “Why not a proper introduction? You certainly don’t need me to introduce myself, considering everyone knows me, ja?”

Ema immediately did not like this guy. “Of course I don’t know you, um, sir,” she said, trying to remember Lana’s advice to make good first impressions, even if he didn’t. “I’m the new detective, Ema Skye, in any case. I thought this was Prosecutor Edgeworth’s office.”

The man laughed. “Fräulein detective doesn’t know Klavier Gavin, star of the hit band The Gavinners? I’m the residing High Prosecutor. If you’re looking for Miles Edgeworth… he was last seen in Europe somewhere.” He extended a hand to shake Ema’s, and she noticed the abundance of rings on it. Ugh.

“O-oh,” she said, utterly disappointed. “I didn’t know Mr. Edgeworth had left the country! And to think, I just got back from Europe, too.” Her face fell.

Klavier eyed her. “A frown is hardly fitting for such a face, Fräulein. Europe is a large place, you know. Even if you were in the same country, the chances of running into him would be incredibly low, ja? But you say you studied in Europe… May I inquire as to where exactly you were schooled?”

“Oh, Germany,” said Ema. Just the way he spoke made her blood boil. She could almost see the arrogance oozing out of his pores. “At the International Academy of Criminal Justice. I was in the forensics division, though we can all see what good that did me.”

“Ah, the Academy. I left there when I was seventeen after taking the Bar Exam to become a prosecutor. I have, of course, dedicated myself to other professions too,” he said. “So you’re going to be joining our forensics division?”

Did he even pay attention to my introduction? groaned Ema inwardly. “No, like I said, I’m a homicide detective. That’s probably why I ended up being introduced to you, after all.” Her grip on the strap to her bag tightened as she tried to channel her anger into it.

Klavier laughed. “Don’t get so worked up, Fräulein. You’ll have plenty of time to express your feelings for me. We will, after all, be working together. Consider yourself lucky to work so closely with me. Discounted concert passes may even be in order, ja?”

Ema could only stare, pretending she had lasers in her eyes that were boring into that arrogant man, that fop’s forehead. It was only after she realized her awkward pause that she nodded and uttered her goodbyes, slipping out of the room.

---

8 January 2026

First day at work. The world just poured salt in the wound—Prosecutor Edgeworth is gone, and some glimmerous fop has replaced him. That Klavier Gavin… Is he even worthy of being called a prosecutor?
It’s bad enough I have the job I didn’t want. Now I get to be stuck with a glimmerous fop of a prosecutor, too.

Chapter Three

29 January 2026

Still nothing doing at the job. It’s been three weeks since I started and I’ve dealt with two crime scenes—they both sucked. Not to mention, that prosecutor won’t stop taking every moment he finds to figure out a new way to drive me insane. Yesterday he passed by my desk thirty three times; what gives?

---

Ema hunched over the white tape, fiddling with a triangular sign with the label “3” next to the blood spatter on the ground. The case was simple—no twists, nothing unexplained, no reason to apply her mail-order forensics kits. She was put on the job too late to even fingerprint the murder weapon; that prosecutor had already sent it off to the real forensics lab. Technically, she should have been thankful for having her job—she could be driving around in a patrol car, or directing traffic. But somehow she almost would have rather been doing that rather than mulling over a crime scene where mulling was hardly necessary.

Almost unconsciously, her hand reached into her purse and yanked out a bag of snackoos. She bit into the first one hard, with a satisfying crunch, standing up and taking a few steps back from the rather boring crime scene. As she ate, her anger melted away. She turned her head to one of the nearby patrolmen—one of her subordinates. “You there, officer,” she called crossly. “Take care of this crime scene. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more to find, anyway. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“B-but Detective Skye,” whined the officer. “You haven’t been dismissed by Prosecutor Gavin. And you can’t leave the rest of the investigation to—ouch!”

Without realizing it, Ema had flung a chocolate snackoo at the police officer, along with a stony glare. “There’s nothing more to investigate. Forensics has already ID’ed the criminal, and the warrant for arrest is processing. All that needs to be done is wrap-up, and I’m certain you can handle that.”

With that, she spun on her black heels and walked away, utterly sullen. Maybe coming back here was a mistake, after all. I can’t even figure out where Mr. Wright’s gone to, my job’s down the drain, I can’t for the life of me perk up! But there’s always those delicious snackoos… The thought of the chocolate dough snacks brightened her mood again.

She had made it about a block from the crime scene when the roar of a motorcycle sputtered into earshot. Ema’s blood froze as she dug her fingernails into the bag of snackoos. This is the last thing I need right now, she thought, speeding up her pace. Her heels clicked aggressively on the sidewalk as she tried to outpace the motorcycle.

“Where are you going so quickly, Fräulein detective?” came that voice. The sound of it made Ema quicken her pace to a vigorous power walk, and that was just the tone. His words caused her face to flush with anger and her eyes to glare angrily in the distance as she focused on her path home. She hoped for his sake that Prosecutor Gavin would make the choice to keep on driving, and leave her in peace.

“You know your shift’s not technically over yet,” said Klavier, pulling his motorcycle up to cruise alongside Ema as she walked faster and faster. “I know you probably have a boyfriend to meet that just so happens to be much more important than your job, but there’s more cleaning up to do at the crime scene, ja?”

Ema glared ahead. “First, I don’t have a—” she started to say, but she caught herself. Come on, Ema, don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Keep walking. Just keep walking.

“Achtung, it’s rude to ignore your boss so blatantly, Fräulein Skye. You wouldn’t want to be kicked off the force so early in your employment, would you?” said Klavier smoothly, pulling ahead of her slightly so he could look back at her.

“Is that a threat?” retorted Ema, breaking her vow of silence just moments after making it. “You and I both know you wouldn’t do that. Plus, it’s not like my leaving early will affect anything. You’ve already bagged the culprit, ja?” she continued, imitating Gavin’s accent at the end. “It just needs to be cleaned up now.”

Klavier sighed, shaking his blonde-mopped head. “I suppose you’re right, Fräulein. Just don’t forget your place. I suppose I will let you leave early without being penalized… but I will need repayment.”

Ema turned her head towards him for the first time in their exchange, still glaring. She pulled a snackoo out of her bag and began crunching thoughtfully. “What do you mean by that?” she asked suspiciously.

“Ah, Fräulein,” said Klavier, pausing for a moment. “How about a ride home? Certainly you don’t live that close by. It must be a long way to walk—Hey!” His motorcycle veered of course as he was hit squarely between the eyes by a chocolate-covered projectile.

“Absolutely not!” shouted Ema Skye, before turning down a one way street.

---

2 Feburary 2026

And here I was thinking it couldn’t get any worse. Prosecutor Gavin has become accustomed to following me home from work every day, asking me out in one way or another. A ride home, lunch, one of his concerts. Luckily, he hasn’t formally made any of these requests as my boss—just as the glimmerous fop he is. So luckily for me, I’m not bound or anything.


---

19 February 2026

11: 49 pm

I called in sick on Valentine’s Day. It just wasn’t worth it, you know? But I think the fop saw through my fake cough. Well, he let me stay home anyway, so no complaints here. Work’s picking up here… I never knew so much paperwork would accompany my job. And I’m still here late at night filing it; that’s why I wrote the time… I wish I didn’t ha

Ema’s head collapsed into her folded arms, shoving her pen aside as it traced a line rolling off the page. Paperwork still to be read and filed was pushed off to the corner of her desk, and her lamp was askew again. She felt her mind drift away as her eyes slowly fluttered shut; asleep at her desk.

She lost complete track of time in her slumber. It wasn’t until a chair creaked beside her and an all-too familiar voice met her ears that she began to regain consciousness. When she opened her eyes, she was horrified at what she saw.

The fop. Hovering over her with that smirk of his. He grinned, staring down at her with blue eyes, and she felt her stomach roil.

“It’s late, Fräulein. It’s probably time you’re heading home, ja?” he said, still way too close for comfort.

Ema’s adrenaline kicked into gear as she leapt up from her swivel chair to stand several feet away from him. Why the hell was he here so late? she thought. “Prosecutor Gavin, thanks for waking me up and all, but I was fine as is. I’ll be leaving now,” she said curtly, too tired to muster up a proper amount of venom. As she turned for the door, Klavier stuck out his hand and caught her shoulder.

“There’s no time like the present,” he said softly. “It’s dark out, and far too dangerous for a Fräulein such as yourself to be wandering alone for your long walk home. Why don’t I escort you on my bike?”

Ema paused, turning her head back momentarily, still glaring. Static nearly crackled in the air as he awaited her response.

“Absolutely not,” she snarled, and whisked out the door.

Chapter Four

After the thoroughly humiliating events of the night before, Ema had no choice but to completely ignore Klavier Gavin, except for the few times when it became utterly necessary to acknowledge his presence. Every time the thought of his smug face leaning in close to her that night crossed her mind, she felt heat rising in her face as her stomach churned in disgust. Oh, if only it was Miles Edgeworth who was the prosecutor, she thought miserably, sitting at her desk. This job wouldn’t be half bad if he was around.

Scrawling her name on the line at the bottom of the paperwork stack, Ema shoved it away with a sigh. Another case down the drain. Hardly anything as strange or dramatic as the cases she had been involve with before leaving the country had occurred. She couldn’t help but think it was Phoenix Wright’s presence that kept the interesting case files piling up, and is his current absence, things were getting boring again.

“Detective Skye?” said a gruff, friendly voice. Ema turned her head to look wearily at the speaker.

“Oh, Detective Gumshoe,” said Ema, shocked out of her reverie by the call of “duty”. “Those for me?” she said, glancing at the fresh stack of ppers and evidence clutched in his hands.

Gumshoe grinned, dropping the stack on her desk. “The results from the investigation earlier today, pal,” he said. “You’re supposed to look over it, but I guess you seem pretty busy as it is. I can leave if you want, pal.”

“Oh, it’s fine, Detective,” said Ema. It briefly crossed her mind that in these short weeks she had ended up being Gumshoe’s superior, despite his many years of service with the LAPD. “But before you leave, there’s something I’ve been wondering… do you know where Mr. Wright went?”

Gumshoe stared blankly, pausing awkwardly. “Oh, Mr. Wright,” he blurted suddenly. “Nobody really talks about him much. I guess it’s almost become something to keep quiet about now, considering the pressure he put on us in court and the, ah, circumstances of it all, pal. But y’know, after he was disbarred—”

“What?!” Ema cried, nearly choking on a snackoo. “Did you say that Mr. Wright was disbarred? Phoenix Wright, the man who saved me, the ‘ace attorney’, is no longer a lawyer?” Her heart pounded frantically. Why has no one told me this?

“Er—yeah, pal,” said Gumshoe, scratching his head. “It happened about seven years ago, I’d guess. They say he presented false evidence, pal. Prosecutor Gavin received a tip-off about it, y’see, and he caught Mr. Wright in the act.” He glanced at Ema, eyes widening at her expression of utter disgust.

Ema crunched down on a snackoo loudly, almost feeling steam pouring from her ears. “You mean to say, Detective,” she spat, “that Mr. Wright was disbarred at the hands of that glimmerous fop?”

“Er—yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying, pal. Sure never thought of it that way. He’s still around, though… that’s what I hear. Maybe you could find him, pal.” Gumeshoe looked at Ema again, deciding it would be safer to make a get away while he was ahead. “Well, pal, enjoy the case files. I—er, have someone to meet, y’know.” He shuffled off down the hallway, leaving Ema staring furiously into the distance.

She just couldn’t believe it. Mr. Wright… Is no longer a lawyer? What is he doing now, I wonder? If only I could find him… And to think it’s all Prosecutor Gavin’s fault!

Ignoring her new stack of paperwork for now, Ema flipped up the screen to her work computer and began searching for Phoenix Wright.

---

Mr. Wright—

I doubt you remember me after all this time; it’s been more than eight years since you saved me and my sister—maybe nine years now, actually. I’m hardly sure anymore. I’ve finally come back to Los Angeles after studying at the International Academy of Criminal Justice, and the first thing I did upon coming back was fail my forensics proficiency exam. I heard you had left law for good, too, but I just can’t believe it. I’d love to hear from you so we can catch up again. I owe you a lot, after all. The attached piece of paper has my contact information. Maybe we could meet over coffee some day?

—Ema Skye


---

If Ema thought she disliked Klavier Gavin before, she now hated him for what he did to Mr. Wright. There was no way that the Phoenix Wright could forge evidence, which left the real culprit to be the prosecution, with their so-called “tip off.” That fop is really going to get it one day, she thought angrily. I hope he wanders into the forensics lab and runs into a shelf loaded with toxic chemicals. A good bit of hydrochloric acid could set him right. Her pen scribbled on her paperwork harder as her thoughts grew angrier.

She finished the files faster than she thought. I guess I’m directing all that anger towards something useful for once, she thought. Now, where do I need to take these papers? Her eyes traveled down the page until they fell onto the section headed “Prosecuting Attorney.” Ema felt her stomach tighten as she saw the name.

Son of a bitch. Klavier-freaking-Gavin.

---

Ema—

Of course I remember you. But I think catching up is best done over a nice bottle of grape juice instead of through the mail. Want to meet up on the 26th at 10:00 am? Come by the café next door to the Borscht Bowl club.

—Phoenix

P.S. sorry to hear about your proficiency test.


---

Ema knocked on the maroon door, keeping her eyes on the stack of files in her hands. She was hoping no one would answer.

No such luck. The door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with a much more refined-looking Klavier Gavin. He wore a trim blue suit with an elegant tie, and had miraculously rid himself of those gaudy chains. Not to mention he had traded in his indoor sunglasses for a normal pair.

“Oh, prosecutor Gavin,” said Ema shakily, thrusting the paperwork forward. “I just finished going over this. Since you’re the—”

She was cut off as Klavier—it was Klavier, right?—held up a hand and shook his head. “Ah, you must be mistaken.” He said in a rhythmic, soothing voice. “My name is Kristoph Gavin, attorney at law. I’m the defense for this case, actually. I think you’re looking to speak with my little brother, Klavier, are you not, Fräulein…?” He left his sentence open-ended, seeking an introduction.

“Skye. Detective Ema Skye,” gabbled Ema, shaking his hand after stuffing the papers under one arm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gavin.”

“And you too, Detective Skye,” uttered Kristoph with a smile, pushing the door open for her as he whisked away.

Ema stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before she realized her task (and the man she would have to face, the real Klavier Gavin) and stepped through the door.

“Ah, I thought I heard the voice of Fräulein Detective outside. How nice of you to pay me a visit after your long silent treatment. Have you finally decided to talk to me again?” said Klavier as she entered. He was leaning back against one of his desk-speakers, as if he was trying to look like he was looking down on her more than usual.

“No, I’m still not speaking to you,” was Ema’s steely reply as she walked over to the prosecutor and set her stack of papers beside him. As she turned around and began to walk away, something crossed her mind. “Well, maybe I will. But just to ask you something.”

“I’m all ears, Fräulein.”

Ema took a breath. “Why did you frame Mr. Wright for forging evidence and get him disbarred, Mr. Gavin?” she asked, barely able to keep her tone civil.

“Ah, so that’s why you hate me so much, is it? Fräulein, maybe you should check your facts before making such accusations. It isn’t becoming of a lovely lady such as yourself, ja?” he purred, inching precariously closer.

Ema glared, stepping back. “So you deny that you ruined Mr. Wright’s carreer—and his life?” she asked accusingly.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” responded Klavier, playing with a piece of blonde hair. “I’m a bit busy with work now, you know. Perhaps you’d like to discuss further over lunch, or dinner, perhaps? On me, of course.”

Always the smooth operator.

Ema was horrified. Using this conversation to ask me out? “That’s low, Mr. Gavin,” she replied. “I decline your offer. Obviously.”

Klavier shrugged, hardly seeming phased. That seemed to piss Ema off even more. “Alright then, Fräulein,” he said, turning his back on her to pace towards his window. With a wave of his hand, he continued, “Close the door behind you when you leave.”

---

If I had eyes in the back of my head
I would have told you
That you looked good, as I walked away

And if you could've tried to trust the hand that fed
You would've never been hungry
But you'll never really be