"Ah-ah!"
Almy, the journalist who should have been incredibly confident, tumbled to the ground. If not for the last shred of dignity to conduct the interview and avoid losing his job, he would have clung to the legs of the man before him.
"H-How do you know I am Almy? I did not reveal my name or anything?"
Ron, who was staring intently at the man before him, suddenly stooped down. He skillfully gripped the journalist Almy's shoulders and lifted him up. Almy could not resist; he could only follow the momentum and stand.
Ron did not utter a single word, nor did he look at Almy's contorted face. He only straightened Almy's clothes and tie, then adjusted his brimmed hat back into position.
"So you truly are Almy?"
Ron asked, and received only a sheepish nod.
"Hmph. I knew it. People like you are exactly the kind who would have to come here."
Ron Irus turned back into the room. He snapped his fingers and the entire room suddenly flared with light.
The room looked like a storage room, where hundreds of items were kept on shelves and hundreds of newspapers covered the walls.
In the center of that room, a young man around 1.6 meters tall stood amidst a wooden table containing ink and papers. He had slightly curly brownish gold hair, golden eyes, and skin as white as a long term social recluse.
His eyes were calm, appearing slightly foolish, perhaps a bit childlike. It felt somewhat alien, speaking of someone standing on the boundary between a puppet and a rebel.
"W-What do you mean by saying my arrival was expected? I only followed orders from the general press bureau and do not represent any specific company?"
Ron merely replied to Almy in a perfectly composed voice.
"You recently published an article exposing an extravagant noble using drugs at a bar, and then another article about a high society lady meeting her lover. Yet you do not belong to any official company, working by selling news and signing your name on the papers, correct?"
Almy blushed slightly. He did not expect the person before him to be so clear, even remembering him. But then he still realized one thing.
"But why do you know I am..."
"Slow down."
Ron interrupted rudely. He said to Almy:
"You should understand more about how the powerful value their reputation. They surely forced you to come here alone to probe me, right?
And you also need to care about your own power. Even if you are just an ordinary person, you have done something extraordinary. And extraordinary people do not like an ordinary person doing extraordinary things."
Ron raised one finger, signaling to stay calm. Then he stepped into the room and sat in the chair opposite the entrance.
Almy, who was suffering under the arrangement of both sides, had to sit down. He stole a glance at Ron's smiling face. Ron looked like a sacrificial pawn, just like him.
"It is very simple.
Either the other side demands that I be under the control of the powerful parties. Or I must be a partner, or rather a debtor to the nobles. And you, the sacrificial pawn that the parties want to eliminate, they will force you to go. If I am difficult, you will die. If I agree partially, you will be considered to have failed your responsibility. If I agree to everything, because you are the intermediary completing legal transactions, you will be considered a target to be eliminated to ensure information, especially when you are a frequent news seller. They will see you as not ensuring secrets."
"U-Umm, I see."
Almy was not very surprised by this. Obviously, he had also thought of this case.
A job proposed by the general press bureau itself, with an incredibly high salary. Who wouldn't suspect there was something shady about it?
But what is a high salary for when you die as soon as you receive it?
Almy swallowed hard. His sweat had early on turned cold due to the gloomy chill underground.
"S-So..."
Almy tried to utter a sentence, but was soon seen through by Ron.
"I will give you two choices. Simple. Either leave, and consider that the two of us never met, that I refused to see you.
Or stay here, and continue talking."
Almy's pupils quivered slightly. He moved his lips, then stopped. His legs sagged slightly, as if he could flee at any moment.
But then, one minute, two minutes, three minutes. The ticking of the clock still ran, while he remained still. Only his gaze fluctuated incessantly.
Sweat now drenched his whole body. The back of his shirt was already soaked. Ron then lightly tapped once on the table, speaking softly.
"What is your decision?"
Almy's heart sank. He had stood waiting for 5 minutes, constantly looking for an escape, then imagining the current situation. Retreat meant death, and advancing meant death.
"I... I will stay here."
Almy said decisively. He stepped forward, pushed his chair and sat down. His back was toward the door. His eyes had become more determined. No matter how his legs trembled, he had decided.
Ron only smiled slightly then stood up, leaning toward him. In the flickering darkness, only Ron's golden eyes remained in Almy's sight.
"I am very glad you chose to stay, Mr. Almy."
"I am also very glad to meet you and discuss matters, Lord of the Dark Night of Jinlus."
"Just call me Ron."
The way Ron spoke was gentle and soft, completely different from Almy's stiffness and coarseness.
Almy awkwardly began to touch his coat pocket. He was now in an interview, so he obviously had to introduce himself, even if it was no longer necessary.
"This is my business card, sir."
Almy presented a black business card with a matte surface. On top were a few lines of golden text recording Almy's basic information.
But Ron did not take it immediately. Instead, he looked at Almy, and spoke gently.
"This was made for you by someone else, right? It looks quite new and distinctive."
Almy did not quite understand, but he still nodded.
"The general press bureau created this for me right before I came here. They even tucked it onto me and told me to only pull it out when I met you. I heard this is equivalent to a VVIP card in the journalism profession."
After hearing Almy speak, Ron's smile faded slightly. He looked at the business card then decisively took it and threw it away.
Right at the moment he touched the top of the business card, a light emitted from the golden text.
But before everything happened, the business card had flown toward the corner of the room. And then a flash of light appeared, and crimson clouds billowed with fire and smoke, enveloping the card like a small cyclone.
And then...
Boom!!
"GAH!"
Almy quickly covered his face by instinct, avoiding smoke, dust, and belongings flying into his face.
A series of shelves and crates were incinerated by the fire, or otherwise shattered by the explosion.
The shelves fell one after another like dominoes, then burned like a forest fire. The card was like a storm of fire sweeping through this room.
"You know? If you had chosen to flee, I would have assumed you were here to assassinate me. That I would not let you die peacefully...
But then, fortunately, you were just a detonator. So I have no need to kill you."