The old Chief wasn't kidding.
A few moments later, Jason appeared with a clunky brass kettle floating behind him, trailed by two chipped cups and one suspiciously ornate mug clearly his own.
And me, the old man waved his hand, then I took the last humanoid form I was born as. A half-elf who was shunned and berated as the outcast, for his half race and tainted blood, who would go on to become the ultimate villain of that world.
"Thought we'd never get to this," Jason grinned, pouring steaming liquid into the cups. "Told you he'd pick the weird option."
I raised an eyebrow. "Adjudicator's weird now?"
Jason shrugged. "Nah. Just rare. Most of you flame out by the fourth cycle. Too broken, too wise... or too bored."
"Or dangerous," the Chief added, settling into a cushion beside a crystalline table. "Some forget how to be themselves. Too many lives can unravel you."
Jason handed me a cup. "That wasn't you, though."
I took it. Warm. Bitter. Just how I used to drink it back when I thought Mondays were the hardest part of existence.
We sat in quiet for a while just the three of us, in a timeless little fold where the universe took a breath.
"You remember your first life?" Jason asked.
"Bits," I said. "Like echoes of from a distant past. Sounding from across the ranges of mountains. The busy roads. Chaotic rush of life. The smell of rain. An empty yet cozy apartment that never felt lonely."
Jason nodded. "That's a good one."
The Chief raised his mug. "To those who remember peace."
We lifted our cups.
"To the peace we once had," I echoed.
A few sips passed. Jason leaned back, arms behind his head. "So... you ready?"
I smiled. "I've made peace with what I was. And with what I want to become."
The Chief reached into his robes and revealed a shimmering object a black stone shaped like a keyhole, with no key.
"Then it's time."
I set my cup down and rose. Jason stood beside me, unusually quiet. The Chief just nodded.
Just before I turned away, Jason placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You're going to forget this," he said, not with sadness but just honestly. "You'll forget us. The coffee. The cups. All of it."
I nodded.
"But I'll remember you," he added. "And the next time I meet a stubborn soul who can't decide, I'll tell them about the foolish yet lively Agent."
I looked at them both and said simply, "Thank you."
To Jason for giving me a choice I didn't know I needed. Had he not, maybe I'd still be trapped in a loop of mundane lives, stacking karma like coins.
And to the old Chief for just being there. A timeless guide. He reminded me of that wise, turtle-like master from that movie with the panda... what was it again? Something about peaches?
They watched me in silence, as I drifted into my own rambling thoughts.
I looked up again, smiling with sincerity. "Hontōni arigatou. Thank you—truly."
Then I stepped forward.
And the world bent.
The shimmer of the Core faded, leaving behind silence and cups of half-finished tea.
Jason stood there for a long time, staring at the space where the orb had vanished.
"So, he's taken the first real step," he murmured.
The Chief smiled faintly and lowered himself back onto the cushion. "One of the few I'm genuinely rooting for."
Jason picked up the empty cup, holding it gently. "He was different."
"They all are, to you," the Chief said without judgment.
Jason shook his head. "Not like him. He didn't just carry the memory, he understood it. The shape of it. The weight. And still... he chose more."
The Chief hummed, thoughtful. "Seven full cycles. Most don't survive three. But this one he's built different."
Jason chuckled. "And somehow, he still remembered a fragment of who he was."
A quiet passed between them the kind only shared by those who've watched centuries come and go.
"You get attached," the Chief said softly.
Jason didn't deny it. "This one? Yeah. I like being part of something meaningful."
Then, grinning, he added, "Hey Chief, think I'll get a bonus for recruiting him?"
The Chief stared into his cup like it held some ancient truth.
Jason laughed under his breath.
They sat again in silence, steam rising between them like quiet prayers.
Then Jason said, "Next time we meet him... he won't know us."
"No," the Chief said. "But we'll know him."
Jason looked down at the empty cup.
And whispered, "I'll remember the tea."