"Who's there?" Finn instantly turned around and threw his mug at Judge, who did not even try to dodge the incoming projectile as it whistled past his ears.
"Me?" Judge stepped forward, his white mask catching the sunlight. "I am god's observer!"
He let those words sink in, but not for long because the thoughts could go in directions he did not need. "Finn, son of Donel— I ask you," He sounded like he was auditioning for a grand drama. "Do you seek revenge?"
Of course, Finn won't say yes to it— unless he was stupid. If he was the type of person so clouded by revenge and said yes to a mysterious masked man on their first meeting, then he was not cut out to be an underling of Judge.
"What of it?" Finn was on the defense, he was not a warrior but he had his fair share of dangers. "If you think I will work under you for revenge, I will not."
Judge tilted his head just a fraction; the chuckle was low and soft behind that eerie, ever-smiling mask. "Ah, not so quick to bite at the chance for vengeance. Good. I wouldn't have expected anything less from you, Finn." His hands folded behind his back as he set out at a leisurely pace, his every step calculated like that of an actor in a play he had already choreographed in his mind.
The mug Finn had thrown clattered uselessly against the floor as it suddenly got distorted and disappeared before appearing on the table once again, but Judge didn't even glance at it.
His gaze stayed riveted on Finn, examining him with a predator sizing up its prey. "You've misunderstood me," he said, his voice cool and measured. "I'm not here to dangle something as simple as revenge in front of you. No, that would be far too... crude."
Judge paused, his movement halted, as his voice dearly softened and became almost conversational.
"What I'm offering you is far more valuable. I offer knowledge. Power. A deeper understanding of the forces that took your friend from you. You don't have to work for me, Finn. But wouldn't you like to see the truth with your own eyes?
To peel back the surface of this world and see what really lies beneath?"
Finn's fists were clenched, his whole body tense as he stared at the masked figure. "And what's in it for you?" he asked in a low, cutting voice. "Nobody just gives away something like that for nothing."
The Judge's mask tilted upward a bit, catching the light just enough to give the impression of a smile that was far too wide, far too knowing. "Ah, sharp as ever. You're right, nothing is free. But what I want from you is far more... intriguing than simple loyalty or servitude. What I want is your curiosity."
Finn blinked, clearly taken aback. "Curiosity?"
"Yes." The Judge's voice dropped almost to a whisper, as if he were letting Finn in on some grand secret. "I want you to seek the answers. Not for me, but for yourself. You want to protect your family, to learn what really happened to your friend. That hunger for knowledge, Finn, will be your guide.
"And I... I will only guide you along that path. You won't be some sort of blind follower. You shall become something more: a Recorder, the chronicler of things that show the deeper truth which even gods conceal."
Finn's jaw clenched. Something inside him screamed that this was wrong, that he really shouldn't be trusting this man, yet the way Judge spoke... it was hard to ignore. The promise of truth, of finding out what really happened to Derek, gnawed at him.
"And if I say no?" There was a slight shaking, though Finn's voice was firm, the doubt still lingered.
Judge chuckled low, almost fondly, as if Finn's resistance had been amusing. "If you refuse? Then you leave here and life goes on as it was. You return to your quiet, empty house, and perhaps— though I doubt it— you'll stumble upon the truth on your own. But Finn," Judge said, bending closer, "if you walk away now, you will always wonder... what if?"
The air felt heavy and thick, as if the room was closing in on Finn— just this one choice hung before him. The overwhelming and engaging presence of the Judge somehow was oppressively comforting in its own right because of its certainty.
"I don't want to be your pawn," Finn said with voice barely audible, totally at war with himself.
Judge's response was immediate. "I'm not asking you to be a pawn. I'm offering you the pen." He gestured broadly to the space around them, his arms wide open. "This world? This village? It's nothing compared to the truth that's out there.
You have no idea how deep this reality goes, Finn. I'm merely the observer. But you... you could be so much more."
The silence stretched between them; Finn's heart was pounding in his chest with anticipation. Had he so much as remembered, the mug on the concrete floor, it lay there, its shards scattered at his feet— a sharp contrast to the monumental decision hanging in the air.
Judge straightened, his voice ringing, as it often did, in that theatrical tone. "So, Finn, son of Donel... what will it be? Will you return to your humble life, or take the first step up unto greatness? Think hard, for the consequences of your choice, whether you accept or reject, it would reverberate through the pages of destiny itself."
Finn just stared at him, trying to see past that mask, to read the man behind it. Everything about this whole moment felt surreal, time itself paused, waiting for him to make a decision.
He didn't trust this man, couldn't trust him— but it was impossible to resist the pull of the unknown, the promise of answers. "I want the truth," Finn said finally, his voice steady despite the hurricane of skepticism raging inside. "But I don't work for anyone."
The mask canted, ever so slightly, and though Finn could not see the face beneath, he could almost feel the satisfaction in Judge's silence. "Very well," Judge replied smoothly. "You seek the truth, and the truth shall find you."
Judge held out his hand, and a mask materialized in front of him, it was similar to the masks that the other recorders wore. "Now choose; Will you serve god, or... will you reject god."