Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 82: Judge vs. Mom: The Battle He Can Never Win

Judge stood next to Lucifer, both watching Finn from behind, clearly uninterested in what was happening. Finn was merely sitting there, lazily running his hand over the white sheath of his mother’s sword like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

Babysitting Finn was like watching paint dry, except the paint at least had the decency to eventually dry. "Ah, yes. Nothing says ’I’m pondering the universe’ like stroking a sword sheath for an hour. Truly, Finn was a master of deep thought— or maybe just deeply bored." Judge ridiculed him internally

"You look after him," Judge said with an indifferent wave of his hand as if delegating the task of babysitting an adult. And Judge was clearly not cut out for babysitting, if he did, he knew the baby was never gonna go back to their parents, since there wouldn’t be any ’babies’ left, he was that bad.

"As you wish, Observer," Lucifer replied, his tone drenched in reluctance. Normally, he’d have Straight up rejected the absurdly boring task, but Judge’s scriptwriter ability left no room for sass this time.

In a flash, Judge teleported back to his Studio and swapped out the scenery. Gone was Finn’s cozy little house, replaced by the grandiose throne room— complete with a long marble table that looked like someone couldn’t decide whether they wanted granite or stone and just went with both.

Not wasting any time, Judge teleported back to his own home, carefully avoiding raising any suspicion. After all, the last thing he wanted was his mother sniffing around for him. That would be… bad. Very bad. His mother was well within the "Do Not Anger" zone of the universe, an entity beyond even the almighty Observer’s range of influence.

He glanced around his familiar surroundings— the high wooden ceiling, the extravagant chandelier swinging slightly, his wooden desk filled with important things he never used, and oh yes, his loving, doting mother... who looked incredibly angry. Wait. Mom?!

Judge froze. Oh no. He was doomed. His mother had made it explicitly clear he wasn’t to leave the house without permission. Being the child of a prominent household and a known prodigy, Judge wasn’t exactly free to roam around unsupervised.

Judge could manipulate ether, bend reality, and write people’s actions, but none of that could save him from the true force of nature: Mom. She was the final boss, the unskippable cutscene, the inescapable doom." And when he tries to explain himself, you could add: "He could face hordes of enemies without flinching, but now his tongue had decided to take a vacation. Worst timing ever.

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"M-Mom… I c-can explain," Judge stammered, suddenly feeling very un-prodigy-like. He could have explained things better if he could just think clearly and his tongue actually said what he needed, but his mother was one thing he was weak towards.

"Oh?" Eleyn’s smile was charming enough to melt the coldest heart, but the glint in her eyes promised consequences. "My sweet son wants to explain why he disobeyed me and ran off?" Her smile widened in a way that made Judge’s blood run cold. "Should I hear him out?"

Judge gulped, his mind racing. He was either going to be the prodigy of "Tragic Early Death" in tomorrow’s paper or, if he was lucky, he might escape with a few broken bones. It all depended on whether his mother felt merciful today.

———

Meanwhile, back at Finn’s house, Finn had no idea that Lucifer, in all his creepy glory, was recording his every move. Completely oblivious, Finn unsheathed his mother’s blade, the silver catching the sunlight that filtered through the half-open window. He stared at it for a moment, before sheathing it again with a look of determination and heading for the door.

Across the house, Derina lay in bed, paralyzed from the waist down since that fateful incident with her husband. Only she knew— well, barely knew— why the paralysis had set in only after she returned home.

She had burned her own life force just to get there, using it to support her legs for the last, desperate steps. Burning life force wasn’t unheard of, but it was rarely done, as the principle was poorly understood— and very much feared.

It was also what made Derina an unmatched healer. She had found the principle buried in an old book her father discovered in the ruins of a long-forgotten researcher’s workshop. And now, bedridden as she was, the knowledge she possessed was worth more than gold, though it had cost her dearly.

Teresa, her niece, poured her a drink with the grace and efficiency of someone twice her age. Only twenty, and she already knew how to handle all the housework. "Here, Aunty, drink this," Teresa said, her voice soft and soothing. The steam from the herbal tea wafted into the cool air.

Derina smiled weakly. "Thank you, Tres." She took the cup, feeling the warmth spread through her fragile fingers. One sip, and the sweet, comforting taste wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. "Mmm, better than last time," she said, casting a proud look at her niece.

"Aww, thanks, Aunty," Teresa beamed, leaning in for a gentle hug, careful not to squeeze too hard. Derina’s body had grown more fragile over time, the toll of her condition evident in every movement.

Finn, sword in hand, was just about to leave when he felt it— a presence, cold and dark, like a shadow creeping up his spine. For a moment, he thought it was the Observer returning, but no… this was different. This presence felt dangerous, like something out of a nightmare.

"You are Finn, I presume?" A cold, detached voice echoed from behind him, sending chills down his spine. He turned slowly, only to be met by the sight of a young woman in white researcher’s garb. Her short, black hair contrasted sharply with her deep, unnerving purple eyes.

This… was definitely not the Observer. And that was far more terrifying. Finn’s first instinct was to run, but his legs had apparently decided they were too polite to move.