New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live

Chapter 927  The Journalist

"Hmm?" Kary hummed, looking at the man running at them.

"Mr. Leduc! Please! A moment of your time!" the man shouted, running at them, holding his shoulder bag in place with one hand, and his notebook with the other.

Alex stepped between him and Kary, glaring at the man.

"Listen, man. Whatever it is you want to ask, I'm not interested in answering. You are invading my privacy, and I don't deal well with that. Now, back off," he growled.

The man's feet almost screeched to a halt as his face paled.

"I am terribly sorry I came to your home. But I couldn't find any other way to reach you, Mr. Leduc," the man apologized, his face still pale, but his eyes taking in the surroundings.

Kary looked at him over Alex's shoulder and smirked.

'Typical journalist. They never know when they are stepping over boundaries until they are roughed around. And then, they become martyrs,' she thought.

Before Alex said something that would affect his budding image as the good guy, she needed to step in.

She grabbed Alex's shoulder and shook her head at him when he peaked at her over it.

Sighing loudly, Alex stepped back next to Kary.

The journalist finally caught a glimpse of the woman walking with his quarry.

"Mrs. Deveille! What a surprise to see you here with him!" the journalist exclaimed.

The journalist finally caught a glimpse of the woman walking with his quarry.

"Mrs. Deveille! What a surprise to see you here with him!" the journalist exclaimed.

Examining him, Alex found himself thinking this man was as bland as they got.

Wearing a plaid shirt and navy blue jeans, his big round glasses did his face a disservice, as his roundish jawline only looked rounder with them on. His brown eyes were sharp, though, as they darted around, his gaze taking in every detail.

A pair of high-quality earphones were wrapped around his neck, the wire dangling as he moved as it traced back into his shoulder bag. Adding to that his auburn hair, this man would blend into a crowd so well, one wouldn't be able to tell him apart from the masses if they tried.

"Is it really a surprise?" Kary asked, breaking Alex's train of thought.

"Pardon?" the journalist asked.

"We are often seen together, whether in New Eden or out of it. I thought the peanut gallery would have already assumed we were together. Or has the quality of journalism dropped so low that you guys can't even guess something so obvious?" she mocked.

She wasn't mocking to make him look stupid, but to make him understand he was overstepping into something he had no idea about.

"I… I'm sorry if I am disturbing your time together, Mrs. Deveille. Mr. Leduc. But I have so many questions to ask Mr. Leduc… I needed to come find him. And since I couldn't find his phone number anywhere, I was forced to dig into sightings of him, hoping to find him here," the man defended himself.

"And what do you want to know? I'm as bland as they come, man. Don't you think there is a reason no one can find my number anywhere? I like to keep to myself," Alex said, scoffing.

The journalist looked at him, frowning.

"Pardon my bluntness, but your appearance yesterday in that gang situation was far from 'keeping to yourself,' Mr. Leduc…" the journalist said, looking at him with a knowing look.

"I was just passing by, and I didn't want to be bothered. That is why I left you a card with a number to call if you had questions," Alex lied.

"Sir," the journalist said, looking at him with a face that screamed 'Stop lying.'

"I reviewed the footage about a hundred times. There is no mistaking it—those white wings, the hair colour change, and golden eyes. I know it was you who saved those hostages. I just want to know why you did it."

Alex clicked his tongue in annoyance.

He knew people would eventually link it back to him, but he had hoped it would take longer. He also knew Jack wanted to make him the face of this movement he was starting, with the awakened people he was training to keep the others in check.

But Alex didn't want all that attention. He was willing to take some attention, for Jack's sake, since he had already agreed to that.

But he would rather keep on the down low in all other instances.

"Fine. Let's go inside, and you can ask your questions. But keep our names off the record, and if someone shows up where we live, asking more questions, the blame will fall on you. Understood?" Kary said.

She could see the people walking by them, looking at them with curiosity, and the attention they were garnering was only growing.

"I wouldn't dare ask for more!" the journalist happily exclaimed.

Alex looked at her, groaning in displeasure, but he went along. If Kary thought this was good, he would trust her judgment.

They walked into the building and straight to the elevator, where Alex swiped his keycard, scanned his hand and retina, and spoke the voice recognition code before the elevator started moving upward.

"Wow… That is some impressive security you got there, Mr. Leduc…" the journalist said, looking at the control panel in a daze.

"And yet, I keep getting pesky visitors, who waltz into my home like they own the place…" Alex grumbled back at him.

The man swallowed nervously, wondering why Alex was in such a bad mood.

Once the elevator stopped on the fifty-first floor, where their penthouse was, Alex stepped out of the elevator first, walking directly to the kitchen, where he started grinding coffee beans.

If he were going to do an interview, it wouldn't be without coffee.

Kary giggled at his grumpy actions, waving her hand inward to the journalist.

"We'll set up in the living room. Forgive us if we don't offer a tour of the house; it's not a friendly visit," Kary said, making it clear he wasn't to wander off.

The journalist nodded, his eyes going wide as he ambled into the penthouse.

He had seen many rich houses before, so the minimalist decoration of the walls did not impress him. But the apartment itself screamed of wealth.

Everything was enormous, from the rooms to the ceiling's impressive height. The living room of this penthouse could fit his entire apartment, with room to spare, and the open-air kitchen and dining room attached to it made him feel small.

"This is quite the impressive home, Mr. Leduc, Mrs. Deveille. I never thought pro gamers could earn enough to live this lavishly, especially a guild without sponsors…" the man said as he sat on the expensive sofa.

He could tell at a glance that the leather was genuine, and sitting on it only confirmed his thought. Caressing the material, the journalist couldn't help but hold a bit of envy.

He could only wish ever to own something like this. And he knew it wasn't as a field journalist that he would make the money to afford it, either. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

After grinding the beans, Alex slowly set them into the slow-drip coffee maker and sat across from the man next to Kary, who had already taken a place on the large sofa.

"Alright. Let's get this over with," he said, already looking annoyed.

"Right!" the journalist said, remembering why he was there.

He set his bag on the ground next to him before pulling out a dictaphone and pen, putting the former on the table between them, and opening the notebook to an empty page.

Alex looked at the dictaphone and could tell it wasn't new. It looked like a vintage model.

"Doesn't your job give you better equipment than this?" he commented.

The journalist looked at him, confused, before seeing what he was referring to.

"Ahh. Yes. The paper I work for gave me a brand new one when I started working for them. But it's still in its packaging, somewhere in my desk at the office. I prefer this one," the man replied.

Alex frowned.

"Why? Wouldn't the sound quality on the newer model?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, yes. By far. But I like this one. It holds sentimental value. And the vintage crackling reminds me of the times my f—Sorry. I'm sidetracking. Let us get back to the interview. I don't want to bother you longer than necessary," the journalist said, stopping his story midway.

"No, let's talk about that. I don't want to answer your questions until my coffee is ready, anyway. And we have half an hour to kill. Tell me about the dictaphone," Alex insisted.

Kary giggled at his insistence. For someone who wanted to get this interview over as fast as possible, he was awfully quick to sidetrack the subject.

"Okay…" the journalist replied, confused.

"So, where does it come from, and why do you prefer it to a newer model?" Alex asked, as if he were conducting an interview.

"It's a long story, and it is quite boring…" the journalist answered, uncomfortable with suddenly being the one under the spotlight.

"We got time."