A line can look like a series of small choices.
Matthew does not tell us why Judas goes to the chief priests. It does tell us what he does: he asks what they will give him, accepts the silver, and begins looking for the right moment. The betrayal is not presented as a sudden accident. It takes shape through decisions that can each look smaller than the whole.
That is one way rationalization works. We do not always tell ourselves, "I am becoming the person who does this." We may tell ourselves that we are only asking, agreeing, waiting, or following through. Each verb is narrower than the truth. The final act is already being built, but it remains easier not to name it.
A price can make a person into a problem to solve.
The silver matters because it gives the act a number. A number can make an ugly choice feel clean and bounded: this much money for this one service. The passage does not say Judas acted from greed alone. Still, the bargaining scene shows a human being and a relationship translated into an exchange.
The arrest also needs a signal. Judas tells the crowd that the man he kisses is Jesus. The kiss does not erase his knowledge of Jesus. It makes that knowledge useful to people coming to seize him. Betrayal is especially sharp when closeness becomes access, and access becomes a tool.
Remorse is not the same as repair.
After Jesus is condemned, Judas brings back the money. He names his act as betraying innocent blood. This is not indifference. Something he did, and perhaps the result he now sees, becomes unbearable to him. Yet the return of the coins cannot reverse the arrest or remove his part in it.
The priests refuse the burden he brings back. They tell him it is his concern. Their reply is cold, but it also exposes a limit that is hard to avoid: other people may encourage, pay for, or benefit from our choices, while the choice still remains ours. Matthew ends Judas' story in despair, not in a neat account of moral repair.