The morning after mercy tasted like ash.
Lin Xun stood by his window with a cup of black tea, eyes tracing the cracks in the street below like they were fault lines in a map he no longer understood. The city moved as usual—smog lifting, cars inching past red lights, pedestrians tucked into headphones and hunched shoulders. But the world inside him had shifted.
He had spared Wen Yufei.
Not because she deserved it.
But because something in her eyes reminded him of himself—of a time before the lines blurred.
His phone buzzed.
[The Sin Ledger] Task #003 issued. Subject: Gao Han. Whistleblower. Status: Verified. Deadline: 20:00.
A whistleblower?
He frowned.
The Ledger wasn't interested only in criminals. That much was now clear. It hunted contradiction. Those who broke something—regardless of whether society called it justice.
And Lin was now its adjudicator.
⸻
Gao Han.
Lin knew the name.
A mid-level safety inspector turned public informant two years ago. Gao had leaked documents exposing massive bribery between construction firms and government officials.
The leak had made headlines.
Two ministers resigned. Several contractors were jailed.
And then… a building collapsed.
An old dormitory in Nanshi District—one Gao had mentioned but not flagged in time. It buried thirteen migrant workers in their sleep.
The media had spun it both ways. Some said Gao's courage saved lives. Others called him reckless, an amateur who played hero and got people killed.
Lin remembered writing a brief editorial on the case. He'd questioned the rush to canonize Gao.
Now the Ledger had made him judge.
⸻
Gao lived quietly now, under a different name in the outskirts of the city.
The Ledger provided a route: a simple apartment in a faceless complex, five stories tall, a narrow stairwell with chipped tiles and rust on the railings. Lin's steps echoed as he climbed.
When he knocked, Gao answered within seconds.
"You're not a reporter," Gao said.
It wasn't a question.
"No."
"You're from them."
Lin didn't know who "them" was. Government? Retaliators? The app?
Still, he nodded.
Gao let him in.
The apartment was bare—books stacked in corners, a sleeping mat, a kettle humming on a hotplate. On the wall was a printout of an old photograph: Gao standing outside the ministry of housing, holding a USB drive in the air. The beginning of his downfall.
"I thought they'd send someone younger," Gao said, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"I'm not here to kill you," Lin replied.
"Maybe not," Gao said. "But you are here to decide."
⸻
Gao handed Lin a folder.
Inside were newspaper clippings, tribunal transcripts, private apology letters from men Gao had exposed.
"I leaked the documents," he said. "But I also lied. Not about the corruption—but about what I knew would happen if I made it public without support."
"You mean the collapse?"
"Yes. That building should've been evacuated. I knew the records were doctored. But I wanted shock. I wanted outrage. So I delayed including it. By the time the story went viral, it was too late."
"Why?"
Gao looked down.
"Because the news cycle only listens when blood is fresh."
⸻
Lin didn't speak for a while.
The Sin Ledger had provided no recommended outcome. No hint of what was "right."
His phone vibrated again.
Time Remaining: 1h 52m
Render Judgment: Awaiting
He asked, "Do you regret it?"
"Yes," Gao said, without hesitation. "But I don't take it back."
"How can you say that?"
"Because I live with it. Every day. And I still believe the system is better for what I did."
Lin stood. Walked to the window. The view was a haze of rooftops and satellite dishes. Nothing noble. Nothing monstrous.
He understood now: the Ledger wasn't about good or evil.
It was about thresholds.
⸻
He opened the interface.
This time, the choices were different:
Render Verdict:
[ ] Guilty – System Enforced
[ ] Guilty – Self Enforced
[ ] Forgive – Archive With Condition
[ ] Archive Without Redemption
Moral Index Delta: ±0.007
Each path came with consequences.
Each forced Lin to calibrate not just Gao's life—but his own soul.
He looked back at the older man.
"I can't bring back the dead," Gao said. "But I can keep warning the living."
That, perhaps, was the price of a lie.
Lin selected:
Forgive – Archive With Condition
The app prompted:
Condition?
He typed:
"Public confession, unedited, delivered live."
Gao didn't object. He only nodded.
As if he had been waiting for this all along.
⸻
That night, Lin watched Gao's livestream from his apartment.
No theatrics. No apologies.
Just truth.
Gao read from his own file. Named names. Outlined his failures. Exposed the manipulation behind every "leak."
It wasn't redemption.
But it was clarity.
His phone buzzed again.
Task Completed. Moral Deviation Index: +0.012
Redemption Path: Stable
Next Task: Queued
Then, beneath it:
"You are beginning to see. Truth alone is not justice. But without truth, there is nothing worth judging."
Lin Xun closed the app.
He didn't know how many more judgments he could make.
But for now, he still believed in the weight of his choices.
Even if they crushed him.