James Bennett stood two steps away, both hands in the pockets of his wool coat, back straight, eyes half-lowered as he looked at the person leaning against the doorframe. After a moment of silence, he said coolly, “I have to remind you, submitting a bail application is exactly the kind of thing an intern should be doing.”

As he spoke, he jerked his chin toward the main entrance. “Go do what you’re supposed to do.”

William Carter imagined giving this overstepping student a good beating in his mind, but on the surface, he just smiled, straightened up patiently, and turned to go inside.

Suddenly, the amplified noise inside hit him full in the face.

He sidestepped people hunched over signing documents everywhere and walked to the edge of the raised platform.

Behind the platform stood a young woman in formal attire. Generally, this kind of job was also done by newcomers to the court. She glanced at William Carter, then reflexively tapped the virtual keyboard in front of her, “Bail application?”

“Yes. Lenghu Detention Center, Joshua Dale, charged with burglary.”

The young woman followed the information he provided, tapped the virtual keyboard a few more times, and confirmed, “Dale... fourteen years old?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s the application form.”

As she finished speaking, the terminal spat out a page with a pop. The form clearly displayed Joshua Dale’s personal information, with standard application language below.

According to current Alliance regulations, bail itself doesn’t require an application; instead, the reviewing officer actively determines whether a suspect qualifies for bail. Only when the officer decides against it does a lawyer need to apply, after which the court schedules a hearing for that day or the next, based on the order of applications.

So, the process of submitting an application is extremely simple, usually left to interns since there’s no risk of messing it up.

William Carter scanned Joshua Dale’s information from top to bottom and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Just sign here.” The young woman pointed to the crowded table in front. “There are electronic pens, or you can just use your finger.”

William Carter felt a headache coming on at the sight of the crowd and smiled. “I’ll just use my hand.”

The young woman laughed. “You look like you just graduated. Intern?”

“Yeah,” William Carter replied.

“Not bad. At least you get to run around a bit. I’m an intern too—been standing here for almost a month.” She’d been here a month and hadn’t really chatted with anyone, but now, for some reason—maybe just a natural attraction to good looks—she felt like making small talk.

William Carter looked up and smiled. “And before this? Spent a month sorting case files?”

“How did you know?”

“I interned at the court a long time ago too.”

“A long time ago?” The young woman looked a bit confused.

“Yeah.” He didn’t even look up, answered casually, and started signing, his strokes bold and flowing.

But after just a couple of strokes, he suddenly paused and quietly hit “undo.”

“Why did you undo it?”

Because he almost signed “William Carter”...

With a smile, he said, “My handwriting was ugly.” Then, obediently wrote the two characters Edward Harris, and selected “confirm submission.”

“All done.”

William Carter looked up at the young woman behind the platform and said, “Thank you.”

“Goodbye.” She smiled.

“Take it from someone who’s been there—next month you’ll get to do some real work.” William Carter waved and turned to leave.

By the time he stepped outside, James Bennett was already waiting, looking a bit impatient. Of course, you couldn’t tell just from his expression.

“Let’s go.” William Carter tilted his head. “Let’s go up front and check the result.”

James Bennett pointed at the holographic screen, looking impressed. “Edward Harris, it took you five minutes to sign two characters.”

William Carter raised an eyebrow. “That name is hard to write. The first try was ugly.”

James Bennett said coolly, “If you’ve been signing the same name for over twenty years and it’s still ugly, maybe don’t blame the name.”

William Carter: “?”

Who are you calling ugly?

He wanted to shove the framed signature from the law school right in this student’s face.

On the large display board in the courthouse lobby, various information scrolled by in columns. The lower left column showed the hearing times for bail applications.

William Carter and James Bennett waited less than five minutes before Joshua Dale’s name popped up.

“Tomorrow morning at ten,” William Carter said. “Not bad—just right, not too close or too far from lunchtime. The judge won’t be too hungry to be annoyed.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

After leaving the courthouse, the two of them flagged down a car by the roadside.

This driver wasn’t very talkative, which made him seem a bit fierce.

There weren’t many parallel roads in Wine City, so drivers here liked to hit the gas first and ask for the destination later. When this driver finally spoke, William Carter understood why he didn’t like to talk.

His voice was so unpleasant—hoarse, like he had a mouthful of coarse sand.

“Where to?” the driver asked curtly.

“Cabbage Avenue.” James Bennett enlarged the map on his smart device and replied.

In Wine City, unlicensed cabs were everywhere, and hardly any were properly regulated, so even ride-hailing apps couldn’t pinpoint locations. Every time, they had to look at the map and find the street name themselves.