Chapter 393
Reporter Dimit
Black ribbons already hung from the treetops.
Dimit felt extremely excited upon receiving notification from the Silver and Tin Hall.
His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he repeatedly caressed his precious camera in the carriage, squirming as if he had ants in his pants.
He was a reporter from the Glass Steps Herald.
Two months ago, he was present when Eivass bravely fought a ferocious Deformed during the Sacred Sword Medal award ceremony.
To be more precise.
He was the reporter who, in a fit of terror at the demon’s appearance, frenziedly snapped photos of it. He was also the one who took the final photos of Eivass and Gordon after they defeated the demon.
Gordon’s armor was tattered, his helmet fallen to reveal a resolute face covered in sweat and grime; Eivass, sitting in a slightly deformed wheelchair, was bleeding from his chest, his Sacred Sword Medal stained crimson with his own blood, shimmering like a ruby in the twilight—
It became the best photograph he had ever taken.
Since then, he had ceased to be merely a photographer and had become a specially appointed reporter for the Glass Steps Herald.
It could be said that photograph had changed his fate.
And, more deeply, it was because of Eivass that he was who he was today.
His benefactor, who had saved his life and elevated his life and career.
Unlike those who only knew Eivass from newspapers and thus felt entitled to criticize the overly young “Minister Moriarty,” Reporter Dimit deeply admired Eivass.
Because he had truly been there for the entire ordeal.
The demon had emerged from that person’s body right in front of Dimit—he knew how terrifying that twisted and ferocious demon was, and how chilling the fear that completely paralyzed the brain could be.
It was a terror that no static photograph could ever capture. Not to mention, the horrifying photo he took of “the demon tearing out of a person’s body” had not even passed the editor’s review to be published in the newspaper.
And in the face of such a demon, as a person with limited mobility, choosing to bravely fight for others when he could have been safely escorted away—that courage and resolute spirit was far superior to those Sir Knights!
If he didn’t become a knight, who would?
For this very reason, whenever he spoke with colleagues at the newspaper office or heard people criticizing Eivass during interviews, Dimit couldn’t help but defend Eivass.
Undoubtedly, Reporter Dimit was Eivass Moriarty’s number one fan!
Perhaps such a reputation had reached Eivass himself…
As Reporter Dimit was preparing to leave work that day, he suddenly received a notification from his editor.
It stated that the new Minister of Affairs, Queen Isabel’s confidante, Eivass Moriarty, intended to accept an interview. And he had specifically requested Dimit—the reporter who had taken his photo at the award ceremony.
The newspaper office dared not delay and immediately dispatched Dimit. However, even if the editor hadn’t insisted, and Eivass hadn’t specifically requested him, Dimit would have pleaded for the opportunity himself.
The agreed-upon interview location was not far from the newspaper office, in the White Queen District. But they still took a carriage—walking would have been too disrespectful, and he might have worked up a sweat, which would have been too uncouth.
Dimit wore his best clothes and, carrying his notebook and pen, cautiously entered the designated restaurant.
This was a restaurant owned by the Iris Flower. It had a high reputation and an equally high price.
Not far away, across the street, was the villa district where the Knights of the Round Table resided. Several ministers lived within a five-hundred-meter radius, and White Feather Gryphons and Arbitration Hall arbitrators patrolled the area day and night.
For an interview, it was best to get a photograph of the subject.
But Dimit didn’t dare to directly confront Minister Moriarty with a flash—it might disturb Eivass and displease him. So, he left his camera, tripod, flash, and his tall, clumsy photography assistant outside the hotel.
If the conversation went well, perhaps he could get a photo as they were leaving.
Dimit didn’t recognize the restaurant’s name—its name was the stylized “Iris Flower,” and there was no translation written below it. Dimit had only attended elementary school before coming to Glass Island to work.
And Eivass had invited him to dine. He worried his embarrassment would affect Eivass.
He had already decided to order the cheapest dish. He wouldn’t need to drink either. If he got too drunk, he might embarrass himself or even stain Eivass’s clothes or the carpet.
However, he felt uneasy when he saw the interior decoration.
This short, beret-wearing young man stood at the restaurant’s entrance, looking at the soft wool carpet on the floor inside, appearing so awkward.
He stood at the doorway, repeatedly wiping his shoes on the mat before daring to step inside. The waiter at the entrance paid no attention to his attire or actions, clearly having received prior instructions from Eivass.
The waiters treated him with respectful courtesy, leading the young reporter to a private room on the second floor.
As soon as he entered, Dimit smelled the rich, fragrant aroma of food in the room.
He subconsciously sniffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quietly.
He recognized Eivass at a glance.
Eivass was currently seated at the table, facing him.
The room contained only one person, yet the table was laden with dishes. There were no waiters, nor any servants.
This was clearly unusual.
Normally, a distinguished guest like Minister Moriarty would surely bring attendants when dining out. Even if his elven butler was temporarily absent from Glass Island, he should have brought his personal maid. And there should always be some waiters in the room…
A slight cool breeze blew in as the door opened, and Eivass looked up, meeting Dimit’s gaze as he stood hesitantly at the entrance.
Eivass’s smile was exceptionally kind. He gestured towards the seat in front of him, saying, “Please, have a seat, Mr. Dimit.”
“…Yes, Minister Moriarty.”
Dimit cautiously entered and sat down, somewhat hesitantly.
Before he could ask, Eivass smiled and said, “I thought you might be nervous, so I asked them not to stay here.
“All the dishes have been served. I apologize for not asking what you’d like to eat, but I believe I’ve ordered quite a lot. If you don’t eat them, they’ll get cold, so please, start quickly.”
All served?
Dimit picked up his knife and fork and asked softly, “I’ve heard that when ministers dine, they always prefer dishes to be served one by one…”
“That’s right.”
Eivass nodded. “The Silver and Tin Hall doesn’t serve too many dishes at once; they’re removed and replaced if they’re insufficient or get cold. This custom originated from the Iris Flower. According to the rules of this type of restaurant, to maintain the food’s flavor, they are usually served in courses.”
The reporter asked curiously, “Then this is…”
“It’s simple.”
Eivass’s gaze deepened. “Because I make the rules.”
His words instantly silenced the young reporter.
Seeing his startled expression, Eivass chuckled. “Just kidding. Actually, I estimated your arrival time and had the waiters bring all the dishes at the designated time—you see, they’re still warm.
“This way, you can eat as soon as you sit down, and you won’t be too nervous or unsure how to start the conversation, leaving you speechless. Wouldn’t sitting across from me like this be like being in prison?”
“Please eat something. Otherwise, the food will get cold, and it would be a waste.”
Eivass urged him.
Seeing Dimit looking at the table full of dishes, unsure where to begin, Eivass introduced, “I recommend this. Roasted crab with crab meat mousse, served with caviar and sweet corn. It won’t taste as good once the crab meat cools.”
“…Oh, all right!”
Dimit instinctively followed Eivass’s suggestion.
The delicious crab meat mousse instantly captured his heart. He wanted to devour it, but he worried about appearing too rude in front of Eivass.
“Afterward, try this, roasted squab. And this, smoked beef tenderloin with mushroom sauce.”
While Dimit was still being reserved, Eivass continued to enthusiastically recommend food to him. There was so much that it was impossible to eat quickly. Dimit was also too preoccupied to do anything else, even forgetting that he was there for an interview. He could only bury his head and focus on eating the lukewarm food, hoping to finish it before it got cold—at least not to waste it.
Watching the young man struggle with the delightful dilemma, Eivass, who was actually seven or eight years younger than Dimit, simply smiled and heartily devoured the food himself.
