Chapter 357 Media Day
As they walked, Ty, curious and perhaps seeking to understand the dynamics of this world better, inquired, "So why do so many people hate you? The Waddle guy was ready to put a piece of wood in your head."
Rusuf, caught slightly off-guard by the directness, responded with a mix of humor and seriousness. "Straight to the heavy questions, huh? You know, you're the one who's going to be answering questions to the media right?"
"I'm sure, by now, you've realized the kingdom doesn't hold the iron grasp on the world it believes it does. Though, I'm not convinced a rule enforced by combat is sustainable. Nonetheless, I serve the kingdom, and my abilities are at its disposal, all in the hope of eventually finding some form of peace."
His words painted a picture of a man caught between duty and a deeper longing for harmony, a nuanced position in a world seemingly defined by conflict.
"But I want you to fill me in on everything. Help me understand your situation better," Rusuf urged, seeking clarity in a world muddied by shadows and half-truths.
Ty's response was tinged with a wry humor. "More inclined to believe me now that Erebos made his appearance, huh?"
"It's not that I never believed you," Rusuf admitted, his voice carrying a newfound respect mixed with a hint of humility. "It's just that I never imagined there existed a scale of power beyond my comprehension..."
Walking past shops, Ty and Rusuf drew the attention of a few kids. The children's eyes widened in recognition, their voices a mix of excitement and fear. "That's the Demon from the TV," they whispered, thinking they were unheard. Ty caught their words, a reminder of his notoriety.
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Breaking the silence between them, Ty shared his thoughts with Rusuf. "Yeah, grasping the massive power difference and how to cross that bridge still escapes me," he admitted, his voice low. "I have to say, this place seems more lively, from the dirt roads to the wooden shops. It feels more alive than the kingdom did." Stay updated with empire
Rusuf's laughter broke the momentary tension, his agreement coming easily. "Yeah, the technology, while amazing, is still hard to come by. Most of it runs off a magic supply with some copper wires weaved into it, though I'm not too sure how it all works,"
And in that regard, some of these countries not attached to the kingdom didn't have as much access to it. Rusuf knew a few villages in the mountains that had never even used it before. "Maybe under different circumstances, it would be a pleasure to show you," he mused as they approached a medium-sized building.
Its walls were draped in moss, and a sign hung above the entrance, declaring it a 'prison / holding area'.
As Rusuf pushed the door open, they were greeted by an area blanketed in a red carpet that stretched from one end to the other. Chairs were neatly lined up along the sides.
"What is all of this?" Ty inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"It's the media room they set up," Rusuf explained, placing a hand on Ty's shoulder. "Please, follow me."
Following Rusuf to the center of the room, Ty's gaze fell upon a tall woman holding a thick folder. She was clad in a white shirt paired with a low purple skirt. The moment she caught sight of Rusuf, her face illuminated like a pumpkin under a light, and she exclaimed, "Rusuf, boy! It's been so long!"
Ty observed as the woman rushed forward, engulfing Rusuf in an embrace. "It's been way too long since you've come to this part of the world, ya know?" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of joy and reprimand.
Rusuf, fighting the urge to blush, replied, "I know, the days get busier and busier, but the amount of time doesn't change. I will try to be more attentive in the future." His voice carried a promise as he attempted a reassuring smile.
"However, I have the first person ready for interview questions. It is the Demon, so do be careful as you ask him questions," she informed them, her tone shifting to one of seriousness. "I have to make some calls about a missing weapon that is probably forever lost," she added, turning to leave.
Before she could, she paused, a question forming as she noticed something odd. "Now that I think about it, why are your clothes filled with little holes? Are you getting into fights again?" her concern was palpable.
Rusuf responded with a casual dismissiveness, "Something like that, Aunt Ya-Mi. But please don't worry. Well, I'm not worried, so please don't worry either." His attempt to deflect concern was as evident as the affection in their banter.
Ty offered a warm smile in return. "Well, if you say so, but don't be afraid to talk about anything you have going on," Ya-Mi reassured Rusuf, her tone imbued with genuine concern.
Observing the exchange, Ty watched Rusuf stride toward the door, his attention shifting to his phone as he departed.
Turning his attention to Ya-Mi, Ty ventured, "I take it you're Ya-Mi? That's a lovely name," he complimented, attempting to bridge the gap between them.
Ya-Mi, however, did not reciprocate Ty's attempt at conversation. Instead, she retrieved what Ty presumed was a cigarette, her demeanor shifting. "Just because I'm nice to the boy doesn't mean I have to be nice to criminal scum like you," she declared, her voice icy.
Their interaction was abruptly interrupted by a man who burst into the room, urgency in his voice. "Ma'am, cameras are hot in 3 minutes, please get ready. Air time will be 10 minutes, then we will begin cycling in all the prisoners with 5-minute snippets!" he announced.
Ya-Mi nodded, her focus shifting towards the door from which the man had emerged. "Sounds good, boss," she responded, her tone professional and detached from the previous tension.
Then, turning back to Ty, Ya-Mi sized him up with a scrutinizing gaze. "So listen up, Demon, boy? You look a little young to be this all terrifying creature," she remarked, skepticism lacing her words.
Ty offered a brief reply, his voice tinged with a mixture of humor and resignation. "Well, I'm only 23ish, though I might have lost count at some point," he confessed, playing into the misunderstanding with a semblance of lightheartedness.