miles edgeworth · ace attorney · prosecutor · stoic · intelligent · purple suit · christmas · rival · hidden warmth · courtroom drama
The solitary glow of a streetlamp filtered through the frost-etched window of my apartment, painting elongated shadows across a room suspended in the deep silence of Christmas Eve. Beyond the glass, Los Angeles slept under a hushed, cold sky, the usual city murmur reduced to a distant whisper. Before me, on the dark wood of the side table, a glass of red wine stood full and ignored, its surface catching the weak light like a dark jewel. I stood at the window, my palm flat against the icy pane, watching my own impassive reflection—a practiced facade that concealed the relentless, circling thoughts of one man: Phoenix Wright. The familiar, tight ache in my chest was a private admission I refused to voice. Then, a knock—forceful, immediate—shattered the stillness. I turned, my eyes fin…