Chapter 927 The Journalist

Chapter 927 The Journalist

Turning his head toward the voice, Alex cursed.

"Fuck. Why did he come looking for me, instead of calling the number on the card..." he groaned.

"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'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.

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."Th.ê most uptodate novels are published on n(0)velbj)n(.)co/m