Exclusive Interview! (update)

That evening, at a corner of the Sun Gate Plaza.

In front of the Shrike Gazette building.

"You're absolutely insane!"

Tamara walked out of the newspaper office with Link Star, the editor-in-chief smiling as he saw them off. Behind the editor stood a nearly bankrupt newspaper office.

After years of losses, they'd finally found a sucker willing to take over the business!

Thank the heavens!

"As long as it gets me through the doors of the Kiramman estate, it's worth it," Link said, glancing at the press pass in his hand, his expression as calm as still water.

A failing newspaper had cost him every last gold hex he had, even with Tamara's help in negotiating the price.

But it was worth it. A newspaper on the brink of bankruptcy, saddled with debt and all its subsequent troubles, had been handed over to him for a mere thousand gold hexes as a "severance fee" for the previous owner.

Of course, the newspaper's debts totaled five to six thousand gold hexes.

In other words, the newspaper was his, and so were its creditors.

If he couldn't secure funding from Lady Cassandra Kiramman in this timeline, he might as well prepare to be sold off to the mines of Zaun.

The newspaper he'd acquired was called the Shrike Gazette.

It was a publication aimed at the common folk, known for its sharp coverage of hot topics. At its peak, it had even outshone all other newspapers in the city, earning the nickname "The News Butcher" among its competitors.

Wherever there was a hot story, the Shrike Gazette was sure to be there.

Unfortunately, the jealous competition had been too much. Under constant pressure and exclusion, the Shrike Gazette had declined day by day.

Not only had it accumulated massive debts, but it could no longer afford rent or salaries, leaving only the editor-in-chief to keep the paper afloat.

Even so, the newspaper was on the verge of bankruptcy and dissolution.

Which gave Link the perfect opportunity.

"You've really changed, Link," Tamara said after a moment, shaking her head slightly. Link tucked the press pass into his coat and asked, "Do you think Madame Norlin's shop rents out formal wear?"

"For anyone else, probably not. But for you—" Tamara took a step back and gave an exaggerated, comical bow. "My genius, Piltover's rising star, Link Star, definitely has that privilege."

"Quit it!" Link laughed, punching Tamara lightly on the shoulder before handing her a few gold hexes. "Here's your commission."

"Thanks a lot."

Tamara didn't refuse, pocketing the money immediately.

As for where Link had gotten so much money, Tamara didn't ask a single question.

She knew better than to pry too much. Curiosity could ruin friendships, and she understood boundaries well.

With a playful wink, she said, "If you climb the social ladder, don't forget your old friend!"

"Don't worry, I'll hire you as my personal steward!"

Link raised an eyebrow at Tamara, who shrugged in response.

After chatting for a while, the two parted ways.

Link headed to Madame Norlin's shop to rent a suit, then gritted his teeth and hired a carriage to take him to the Kiramman estate.

Arriving at the estate gates, Link used his press pass to slip through the doors.

The carriage dropped him off at the entrance and left without a second glance.

Link adjusted his slightly tight tie, staring at the grand doors ahead. He took a few deep breaths, feeling both nervous and excited.

Whether he could rise from a humble apprentice to a workshop owner depended on this moment!

Inside the entrance hall, Link noticed that the number of guests was far from small.

As Tamara had said, most were upper-class elites, nobles, and wealthy merchants. Apprentices like him weren't just rare—they were nonexistent.

The so-called City of Progress was only progressive in its technology. Socially, it was a different story.

"Caitlyn—" Link stood by a pillar in the hall, scanning the crowded room for any sign of Caitlyn.

Unfortunately, she wasn't there.

As the eldest daughter and sole heir of the Kiramman family, she would only be in the main hall where the coffins were kept.

"Well, well—" A mocking voice came from nearby. "A little rat sneaking into a funeral, looking for a ladder to climb."

Link frowned as the words drew the attention of several guests, their gazes cold and scrutinizing.

"Excuse me, sir," Link said calmly but firmly. "I'd like an explanation for your earlier comment."

"An explanation?" The man, with slicked-back blond hair and a black suit, chuckled. "I think it's you who needs to explain yourself."

The Kiramman family's butler approached, and the man continued, "Explain how a tabloid reporter managed to sneak in here."

"Tabloid?" Link remained composed, facing the butler without flinching. "And you are?"

"Wallace, editor-in-chief of the Progress Daily!"

"Well, Mr. Wallace, it seems your education in manners and respect was lacking before you joined the Progress Daily." Link's tone was calm, but his words were sharp, drawing the attention of several important figures in the room.

Wallace opened his mouth to retort, but Link didn't give him the chance.

"True, the Progress Daily is an industry giant far beyond the reach of the Shrike Gazette. But the Shrike Gazette was founded long before your paper."

"Yes, we've fallen on hard times," Link said, standing tall. "But I believe the Shrike Gazette will rise again, like a phoenix from the ashes."

"Just as Piltover, despite its current struggles, will one day see the light of a new dawn."

"If you had even an ounce of empathy and responsibility, you'd be interviewing the gentlemen and ladies here, listening to their thoughts on this tragedy and their demands from the authorities, rather than squabbling with me over hierarchy."

"Don't you agree, Mr. Wallace?"

Link took a step back and gave a slight nod.

Wallace's face turned red, his fists clenched, but he didn't dare make a scene.

This damn kid had humiliated him in front of everyone. It was unbearable!

"Mr. Wallace," the Kiramman butler said softly, "please restrain yourself."

"As for you—" The butler turned to Link, who introduced himself politely. "Link Star. Special correspondent for the Shrike Gazette."

"I believe the master would be interested in speaking with you," the butler said with a nod.

Link hesitated. "I think on such an important day, it would be inappropriate to disturb a gentleman mourning the loss of his loved one."

"Besides, there are so many compassionate and responsible gentlemen and ladies here. I wouldn't want to intrude."

The butler gave an appreciative nod, gesturing for Link to proceed. Link pulled out his notebook and camera, smiling as he approached the grieving upper-class guests.

Wallace watched, seething.

But under the butler's watchful eye, he didn't dare cause trouble. He could only wait for an opportunity to pick up the scraps left behind by this damn kid.

Damn it, why am I even thinking like this?

Shrike Gazette, huh?

This isn't over!

After interviewing several guests, Link put away his notebook and camera, heading to the banquet hall for a bite to eat. He then found an empty balcony to get some fresh air.

Though he hadn't seen Caitlyn yet, Link was sure he was getting closer.

All he needed was one small opportunity—

His eyes scanned the banquet hall, and suddenly, his gaze landed on someone who stood out from the rest.

With pink hair, tattoos on her exposed skin, and a bold, casual outfit, she exuded an air of toughness masking a sensitive and lonely heart.

Vi, the future enforcer of Piltover.

Perhaps sensing his gaze, Vi walked over to him.

She leaned on the balcony railing, staring out at the garden under the night sky.

After a moment of hesitation, Link spoke softly. "I heard you're from Zaun."

"Hah, sharp-tongued guy. What do you want?" Vi turned to him, her eyes sharp but her heart clearly troubled.

"I just want to ask you a few questions, hear your thoughts on what's happening."

"This attack has caused visible damage to Piltover, and the culprits are from Zaun. If we let this conflict fester, the two cities are bound to erupt into an unprecedented clash."

"Hmph!" Vi snorted. "You're used to looking down on us from up here, aren't you? What's the point of asking for my opinion? You'll just twist it to suit your narrative."

Sensing the bitterness in her words, Link smiled. "But saying it out loud might make you feel better, don't you think?"

Vi paused, looking at him with a complicated expression.

Just as she was about to speak, a voice interrupted.

"Vi, I've been looking for you." Caitlyn approached, her purple hair catching the light. Compared to her animated counterpart's sharp features, the Caitlyn before Link was far more striking.

Her face, though weary from grief, was still beautiful, her bright eyes dimmed by tears.

"Hey, Caitlyn."

Vi greeted her, and Caitlyn's gaze shifted to Link. She studied him for a moment before noticing the camera around his neck.

"A reporter?"

"Not right now," Link said with a shrug. "Just got off work."

"Don't listen to him," Vi interjected. "This guy was just asking me about the attack, wanting to know what I think about the future of Zaun and Piltover."

"Times change," Link said, his tone respectful. "On a day like this, no one wants to reopen a beautiful lady's wounds."

His words softened Caitlyn's gaze.

"Thank you for coming," she said gently.

"Link Star," he introduced himself, shaking her hand. Caitlyn brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and said, "Link, thank you for being here. And for your kindness."

"But I think you're mistaken about something."

"Oh?"

"You might have to work overtime," Caitlyn said with a small smile. "But you'll need to wait a moment."

"Of course, I've got all the time in the world," Link replied, his heart finally settling.

The investment from the Kiramman family in another timeline was finally within reach.