Cameraman Never Dies

Min Jae found himself seated on a weathered wooden bench beneath the dim glow of a street lamp. His breath curled into the cold night air, dissipating in soft puffs. The silence of the night was calm yet unnerving.

Beside him, Seo Jun leaned back, his gaze fixed on the vast, empty expanse above in the skies and beyond the stars.1

"You know, Min," he murmured, his voice was low, just enough for Min to hear him, "I never cared about money the way others did when I was younger. I didn't dream of wealth or status. I just wanted enough— enough to eat, enough so my mom wouldn't have to work herself into the ground. That was all."

Min remained silent, allowing Jun the room to unravel his thoughts. It was rare for him to speak of his past, and when he did, it was as though he were offering fragments of himself, seeking to be understood without the burden of judgment.@@novelbin@@

"My mom was a single parent," Jun continued, his tone growing softer, almost reminiscent.

"She worked tirelessly, more than anyone I've ever known. We scraped by, always on the edge of having too little. She sacrificed so much, more than I comprehended at the time— skipping meals so I could eat, pretending she wasn't hungry when I could hear her stomach growling. We never had the luxury of dining out like other families, but I never complained. Still, there was one place I always longed to return to. A small restaurant my dad took us to before he… before he was gone."

A breath escaped him, slow and weary, as if attempting to toughen the emotion creeping into his voice. "I used to walk past that place every day, staring through the window, inhaling the scents that spilled into the street. I'd imagine what it would be like to sit inside again, just once. But I never asked. My mom never mentioned it either, but I knew— she remembered."

Min looked to the distance. "And then?" he asked with the words minimum and his voice as low as possible. The purpose was to let Jun know he was listening.

A nostalgic smile crept across Jun's lips. "Then I got my first paycheck. It wasn't much— just from a part-time job— but it felt like I had the world in my hands. I wanted to do something for her, to give back in some small way. So, instead of telling her, I slipped the envelope under her pillow, thinking she'd be surprised."

Min puffed a quiet laugh. "Let me guess— she found it immediately?"

Jun's grin widened. "Not only that. The first thing she did was call me and say, ' Jun, I found some money under the bed! Do you know whose it is?'" He chuckled, shaking his head. "I told her it wasn't mine, and she just laughed. Then she said, 'Come home quickly.' I didn't know what she was planning, but when I got back, she was waiting at the door, dressed up. She took me straight to that restaurant."

Min could picture it— mother and son, stepping into a place imbued with memories, their joy outshining the worth of any currency.

"She spent that money on you," Min murmured.

"Yeah." Jun's expression softened. "She found money, and the first thing she thought of was me. That day… that was the happiest I'd ever been. For the first time, I felt like I had given her something meaningful. Now I always wonder why that small paycheck made me cry from happiness but all these giant gains always feel like a burden."

Min smiled, "Looks like you already know why."

"Yeah... " His smile wavered, replaced by a gloom of regret. "After seeing her smile like that in ages… I lost sight of that feeling. I convinced myself that I needed more. That if I worked hard enough, and earned enough, I could give her everything she deserved. So I kept running after money, chasing it without stopping to think. I told myself I was doing it for her. And before I even realized it… she was gone— gone, I never stopped once to see whether she wanted me to stop, even though I always knew she did."

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Min saw the way Jun's hands curled into fists, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a force he could not escape.

"Why did I run so hard? What was I even chasing?" Jun exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "In the end, I learned something. Money is indeed— the root of all evil. It makes you chase it, always wanting more, until you lose everything."

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Min scoffed, the sound breaking through the gravity of the moment. "That's where you're wrong, Seo. You see, if money was truly the root of evil, why did it make you happy? Why did it make your mother smile?"

Jun frowned slightly, caught off guard by the question.

"Money was never the issue," Min continued, leaning forward. "It was just the justification. People do terrible things and blame it on money, power, on ambition. But the real problem? It's in the choices we make, the excuses we cling to. Justifications— those are the true root of all evil."

A slow grin tugged at his lips. "So stop blaming money and admit it— you were just a greedy idiot."

For a moment, Jun stared at him. Then, laughter erupted from his chest— genuine, unrestrained, breaking through the gloom like a willful music. It was a sound Min hadn't heard in a long time, and he let it settle between them, warm against the cold night.

The dream began to shift, the mist creeping back in, swallowing the scene. Jun's laughter echoed, distant now, a fading imprint on Min's mind.

Then, suddenly—

Judge awoke.

His breath was steady, but the remnants of the dream lingered, heavy on his chest. Min's words, his previous life's words, replayed in his mind.

Justifications— the true root of all evil. Flora Venthart shared something similar to Gabriel when he was recruiting her— maybe that was what triggered this dream.

Min Jae- Previous Judge, Seo Jun- His friend.