Cameraman Never Dies

Judge groggily opened his eyes, blinking a few times as if trying to adjust to the dim light. His headache, which earlier felt like a marching band had taken up residence in his skull, had finally packed up and left. Good riddance. However, as clarity returned, so did the memory of him.

The guy who had betrayed him, stabbed him in the back— or, wait— poisoned him straight through the mouth. "Why does that sound so... off?" Judge muttered to himself, frowning at the thought.

That guy, Seo Jun, wasn't just a former friend. No, Seo Jun was the kind of guy you'd pick out of a crowd and say, "Yeah, he's probably the lead in a K-drama I'll cry over later." With his long, tussled blue hair and sharp features, he could have walked into an idol agency and signed a contract on the spot— if not for one tragic flaw.

The man was allergic to makeup. Not "oh no, my skin is sensitive" allergic; no, more like break out into hives and look like a horror movie extra allergic. And yet, even without it, he could've still stolen the spotlight. Typical Seo Jun.

As Judge's vision sharpened, his gaze fell on his master, Seraphis, who sat nearby. At first, her face looked concerned, almost… worried? But as the blur cleared, her expression shifted into something more familiar: the signature "you're so pathetic I almost pity you" look that could crush even the cockiest of egos.

Haa… Judge sighed internally. The headache must've caused hallucinations. For a second there, I thought she actually cared about me. Strange headache, indeed.

"You're awake," Seraphis said in her usual cool, detached tone, as if she hadn't just spent the night watching over him. "Let's head back. I've got a few things to discuss."

Judge groaned as he propped himself up, his muscles protesting with every move. "Why? Did something happen?"@@novelbin@@

"You were screaming like the child you are," she replied bluntly, standing up and moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "Anyway, don't try to remember things you might've forgotten."

"Huh?" Judge froze, confusion plastered all over his face. How does she know? Wait— can she actually read minds? No way— right?

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"The doctor mentioned it," she said, cutting off his internal monologue. Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly, into something resembling maternal concern. It was a tone he'd only ever heard from his actual mother, and even then, it came with the underlying threat of "Don't make me regret this."

"You're trying to recall memories that are sealed," she explained. "Let it go, Judge. Your past isn't worth breaking yourself over. Let go of the need to remember. Some things are hidden for a reason, and finding them could hurt you more than you realize."

Judge turned his head toward the open window, her words bouncing around his mind like marbles in a tin can. Outside, the world was already buzzing. Path weavers bustled along the streets, weaving intricate patterns on the cobblestones below.

Overhead, two cloud weavers glided gracefully across the sky, likely heading for the port. The early morning light had yet to pierce through, leaving the street lit by lanterns and the faint glow of a bright half-moon hanging lazily in the blue-black sky.

His gaze lingered on the moon, its luminescent blue hue sparking a memory. Blue... Clio... Huh? His body stiffened as the name echoed in his mind like a haunting melody he couldn't place.

Suddenly, pain exploded in his head like a firework display gone horribly wrong. He clutched at his temples, groaning at first, then screaming as the pain intensified. Flashes of her came to him— her blue hair, that maddening smirk that could make even the devil throw up his hands and say, "I give up!" But her face? Her face was shrouded in an impenetrable fog, just out of reach.

Her eyes… yes, those piercing ice blue eyes. Her elegant, sharp nose. But no matter how hard he tried, her face wouldn't come into focus. The more he strained to remember, the sharper the pain grew, until it felt like his skull might crack under the pressure.

Just a single voice came to his mind, "Judge, please forget about me and live peacefully."— it was something she had said.

Seraphis sighed deeply, the sound a mix of annoyance and reluctant concern. With a snap of her fingers, she silenced her screaming disciple. "Exactly as the doctor predicted," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "Of course, he'd try to remember the moment I told him not to. Stubborn fool. But… it's necessary."

She glanced at Judge, now lying there, mercifully silent but still writhing in discomfort. "You're going to make my job so much harder, aren't you?" she said, shaking her head. "Well, keep it up, kid. It's not like I have anything better to do with my life than babysit you."

And with that, she settled back into her chair, her lips quirking into a faint smile. Because, for all her grumbling, she cared for her disciple. Not that she'd ever admit it.

Little did Judge know, he was unknowingly filling a void in Seraphis's heart. She had lost her only daughter years ago, and for the past four years, she'd searched tirelessly for traces of her. Though she would never say it, Judge had become a child for her to look after— a surrogate for the daughter she could no longer hold.

———

In the serene garden of the Drakonis estate, a gazebo stood as a haven for what should have been a relaxing afternoon. Yet, the atmosphere inside was as thick as the cream in their tea. Gereon, Eleyn, and Alex were seated around a finely polished table, framed by the lush greenery of their estate. Two guards in pristine white coats stood nearby, their expressions frozen in an unwavering mix of politeness and discomfort. Bowing every time someone even glanced in their direction was apparently in their job description. (A/N: Okay, truth be told, writing like this is exhausting. What am I doing with life)

Gereon and Alex sat on one side, sipping their tea with an intensity that suggested they were trying to outdo each other in polite sipping. Across from them, Eleyn sat with the grace of a queen, her teacup an extension of her poised demeanor. Yet, despite the idyllic setting, this tea party felt less like a family gathering and more like the prelude to a war.

"They still can't find him after he teleported," Gereon finally broke the silence, his voice had a hint of genuine worry. "Eleyn, it's been days. Why don't you just find him already? I don't like the idea of him being out there in trouble. Who knows what kind of mess he's landed in?"

Eleyn barely glanced up from her teacup, her expression as calm as ever. "Judge is fine, Father. Trust me. If anything remotely dangerous happened, he'd be the first to call for help. Loudly. Possibly with tears."

Gereon raised an eyebrow, his worry momentarily eclipsed by skepticism. Alex, ever the opportunist, saw his chance to chime in. "She's right, Dad. Unlike Liam, Judge actually inherited your knack for strategy. He's not going to pick a fight unless he knows how to win it. Now, Liam? He's a different story. He picks fights like he's collecting them for a hobby, and he's still in one piece."

"At least Liam has his guards with him," Gereon shot back, his gaze sharp as he turned to Alex. "Judge teleported to who knows where, without so much as a goodbye, and Eleyn refuses to track him down. She could find him in minutes if she wanted to!"

Eleyn set her cup down with a quiet clink, her tone as smooth as the tea she was savoring. "Father, I understand your concern, but Judge is trying very hard to stay hidden. I have no intention of disturbing him. He wouldn't do something reckless. Besides, I've used divination. Every single outcome says he's not in mortal danger or headed for long-term trouble."

The reassurance did little to ease Gereon's tension. He sighed heavily and took a long sip of his tea, reaching for a biscuit to distract himself. "I sure hope you're right. And Liam… I just hope he doesn't break his body with all that reckless fighting of his."

Eleyn and Alex both nodded in unison, their teacups raised in silent agreement. The atmosphere softened slightly, and for a moment, it almost seemed like the tension would dissolve entirely.

Meanwhile, Liam was proving his grandfather's concerns right in spectacular fashion. He was currently airborne— or rather, he had been airborne. Now, he was one with a stone wall, having been slammed into it with enough force to make the masonry reconsider its life choices. His left arm hung limp, the wrist bent at an angle that suggested permanent regret. Blood and grime caked his enchanted clothes, but his fiery determination burned brighter than ever.

Gripping his sword tightly in his one good hand, Liam raised it high, defying both pain and common sense. Across from him, his opponent— a hulking demon with jagged, stone-like skin— threw its head back and unleashed a guttural, mocking laugh. It was the kind of laugh that said, "You're not walking out of this alive, buddy."

But Liam? Liam wasn't listening. He wasn't here to walk away. He was here to fight, to win, or to give that demon a reason to never underestimate someone with a Drakonis surname ever again.