Manfred von Karma hated Gregory Edgeworth.

To say nothing more and leave it at that, it would seem a very simply hatred. Manfred was a man not known for his warmth, and Gregory was one of the few men who had wronged the prosecutor in any way he considered noteworthy. A black mark on an other wise perfect record would seem enough reason to validate the hatred - which is perhaps why so many were content to abandon the subject after thinking that far.

However, Manfred found that being personally involved in the matter demanded a bit more attention to the issue. Thinking about Gregory Edgeworth to any extent, in any regard, was quite annoying. Yet the veteran prosecutor couldn't bring himself to stop until he knew with full certainty what had caused this deep and abiding hatred.

He had dwelt on the topic since the day of Gregory's murder. At the time of the crime, his mind could not have been clearer; here was his most hated adversary, the only man who had ever managed to sully his record, unconscious and his to do anything to. And there on the floor, just beside this mortal enemy, was the anything - a gun, a clear indication of what he was meant to do.

Later that day, however, Manfred found himself turning the matter over and over in his head, unable to push the event from his mind. He had never killed a man before that day. in fact, he had never even entertained the notion. Yet he had not hesitated to take the life of a man whose greatest offense was to deliver him a penalty. As hard as Manfred tried to assure himself that it was the penalty alone that had outraged him, the evidence proved him wrong - evidence that was not in his power to alter. And so, he stewed.

For the first several weeks, young Miles had adamantly demanded to know why Manfred had chosen to take him in. Repeatedly, Manfred had told the boy that he saw it as an opportunity to transform a boy who might have been a helpless defense attorney (he never hesitated to point out how Gregory's career had ended) into a justice-driven prosecutor. Of course, both knew this wasn't true. It was not truth or fairness or any other such notion that powered Manfred's career, but an insatiable desire to be the best. Miles eventually stopped asking as he came to realize that he would not get the truth. Manfred, no longer forced to lie to his ward, came to realize that he himself did not really know the truth.

He knew that he felt a tremendous satisfaction in raising the child of his enemy. he knew that it gave him a rush of adrenaline to consider the fact that Miles was to become the opposite of of what his father would have wanted. And he knew that through his plan ti ultimately break and destroy Miles Edgeworth, he was doing something that would no doubt have haunted Gregory.

What Manfred didn't know was why any of this mattered. What did it mean to spite a dead man? What was to be gained from it? As sure has he was that he hadn't the answer to that question, he was sure that there was one, and he wanted to find it.

More than a decade later, he still mulled over the question as his whole plan was upturned. As he was escorted to his prison cell to await the death sentence he'd been given, the only thought in his mind was one of tremendous disappointment - disappointment that he'd failed a revenge plot against a dead defense attorney.

Now, as he found himself waking, entering the morning of what was slated to be his final day on Earth, Manfred was frenzied. Nearly frothing in madness, he tore through his day with a manic vigor. It was not the idea of being death that upset Manfred. There was little left for him to live for, with his children grown and his revenge foiled. What upset him was the idea of leaving the world without knowing why he hated Gregory Edgeworth.

The defense attorney, in life, had been faithfully devoted to justice. he had wholly believed in all of his clients, even to the point of naivety at times. And he had no tolerance for those who tampered with the truth. Manfred had every reason to dislike this man, who was so far from himself in every way. However, Manfred was not evil - simply apathetic. He had no reason to hate goodness.

As Manfred was taken from his cell and led down the hall to his death, he decided to drop the issue. He would not allow his final moments to be spent obsessive over a man he hated. Instead, he became introspective.

Manfred allowed himself a small laugh at the irony as he was strapped into the electrical chair; he didn't have enough fingers to number the times he'd used electricity against others in his time as a prosecutor. Although justice meant nothing to him, it seemed poetic that he should meet his end in this way.

The switch was flipped, and pain coursed through his body, assaulting his senses and yanking his consciousness sharply away. in his last moments, he was surprised to find that much of his life did, in fact, pass before his eyes. Rushed memories of his life surfaced, and he saw himself one more time as a young man, eager to prosecute his first case, to see a criminal put to justice for his wrongdoings.

The last thought to flit through his dying brain was the one that he had spent over ten agonizing years trying to find. He realized, as his muscles gave their final, pathetic spasms, why he hated Gregory Edgeworth.

Gregory had succeeded where Manfred had failed. he had remained an unfaltering soldier of the truth to his final day, while Manfred had slowly lost his conscience, becoming a deranged sociopath who no longer knew right from wrong.

As the straps were removing from his smoking corpse, Manfred von Karma slumped forward, dead.