The judge didn't dare move a muscle. The moment that ghostly hand settled on his shoulder, it was as though he'd plunged into an ice cellar. Even the door inside him seemed to have been suppressed.
The only part of him he could still move was his eyes.
He glanced at the rearview mirror as if pleading for help. Through it, he saw that the man in the back seat hadn't moved at all. And his shoulder was empty.
The ghostly hand seemed to exist in another space entirely.
"I'm sorry, President." The judge's face was deathly pale, and his voice trembled. "I'll arrange what you asked right away. Please believe me. Soon—very soon—I'll give you an answer you'll be satisfied with!"
A few seconds later, the ghostly hand slowly withdrew from the judge's shoulder. And, as before, he saw nothing in the rearview mirror.
A moment later, the young man's voice came from behind him. "Judge." The man chuckled. "What are you talking about? There's no need to be so formal between us. I was able to establish myself among the Night Watch thanks to you and Uncle Ghost."
Faced with the President's sudden change in demeanor, the judge straightened his back, damp with cold sweat. The stiffness in his face eased a little, and he forced a smile. "What are you saying? Old Ghost and I merely went along with the tide. Even without us, it would only have been a matter of time before you took control of the Night Watch."
"Since ancient times, it's been said that a good bird chooses a tree to nest in, and a good minister chooses a lord to serve." The judge rattled off the words in one breath, while keeping an eye on the man's expression in the rearview mirror.