The first thing I noticed about Irridon was her gentle, mindful aura! It was impossible to imagine the Chief Judge of Lumo Hall of Justice having such a kind glow to her. Before then, when I heard Her Honor was coming to the Colossus, I was worried she might be hard to get along...
She's too petite, though, so her staff felt too long and heavy for her. Also, her leg seemed to have suffered a serious injury before. %s even asked her out of concern when she came inside the Colossus.
After seeing her showing %s how she handled a sword, however, she could be a great addition...
—Vice

Thank you for your concern, Navigator of the Colossus. You are a thoughtful person.
I seem very gentle? I appreciate the compliment very much, but this temperament is perhaps not best suited for my position as the Chief Judge of the Hall of Justice. I have been strictly taught since childhood to exhibit rationality and impeccable etiquette. I did not like it, but I must say the lessons parted to me from that person made me who I am today... Even though this is not what I desired to do most.
But don't worry, for as long as I am the Chief Judge, I will tend to every one of your requests seriously.

That person—I'm referring to my father—was always very strict with me. Even when I was the head of my class at the Dawn Academy, he could still pick out issues, such as combat ability surpassing that of my peers, perfecting palace etiquette, choosing the "right" friends, and so on. It was a persistent part of my life that was chosen for me.
Except once... Even though he scoffed and mocked it to this day, I'm still proud of the choice I made, which remains the only one I've made entirely of my volition.
I've kept this sword with me even now, as both a weapon and a reminder.
Are you curious about it? We can talk about it next time.

Ultimately, I accepted the staff from my mother and succeeded her as the Chief Judge, despite my internal conflict.
She was adept at showing restraint, although my father took it as a sign of weakness. Ever since I could remember, my father was always criticizing her, from how she instructed me, how she conducted herself, to even the droplet on a cup that the servant neglected to wipe off. He blamed it all on her. It gnawed away at her. When her frail body decided to leave, she stroked my face and apologized in tears repeatedly... I was a child then and couldn't understand all the abuse and suffering she went through.
Even with all the grief, she remained kind and tolerant of my father... Maybe that is where I got it from.

Did the stitches on my leg scare you? Don't worry, it's... fine now...
I couldn't move at all from the fractured legs in the battle, and my father died to protect me. I still don't get it, even till today, why would he protect someone he always called "useless"? Isn't it better for the "useless" to die on a battlefield as she should?
Even now, when the night falls and I close my eyes, I can still picture him lecturing me to work harder and be righteous. If we shall meet in the afterlife, he most certainly will berate me for "being absolutely useless!"
For me, living is how I escape his verbal abuse... But I'm no longer sure whether it's my choice to live, or is living actually a burden he's saddled me with.