The Versatile Master Artist

”The governor rides a GLS600? This luxury car’s starting configuration costs two hundred thousand euros, doesn’t it? The city government just spends taxpayers’ money like this! Where we come from, they can only ride a Toyota Crown.”

The girl next to him was both enviously tweeting and righteously condemning the officials’ extravagance.

The tweet hadn’t been sent yet when there was an unexpected incident on the road ahead.

The traffic light had just turned from red to green, and the black Mercedes-Benz car had just released the brake when a backpacker in a T-shirt suddenly dashed forward two steps.

”Bang!”

The backpacker unhesitatingly ran head-on into the hood of the Mercedes-Benz.

The couple preparing to cross the street were dumbfounded.

”To stage an accident right in front of the governor, this guy’s really got guts... It’s almost admirable.”

”Sir, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?”

It wasn’t a security guard who got out of the passenger seat, but a young girl in a gray professional suit.

”Damn it! What the hell is going on today?”

Elliot looked at the backpacker lying like a toad on the front of the Mercedes-Benz, muttering inwardly.

This SUV with the license plate G·01 was not the official car of the governor, as foreign tourists assumed, but belonged to Anna.

In gratitude for the Ilyena family’s longstanding contribution to Glietz City’s financial revenue, employment opportunities, and city image.

The city government gifted the first local license plate number to the Ilyena family.

Besides this [G·01], Anna also owns a Rolls-Royce Ghost with a special plate [G·Oil Painting], a custom bulletproof version.

That was the car used by her aunt before she passed away.

Because it’s roomier, can be modified for accessibility, and the travel roof box can automatically stow an electric wheelchair, Anna prefers using this full-size Mercedes-Benz SUV.

”Hey, sir.”

After seeing Miss Anna endure a day of grievances at the shareholders’ meeting, the female secretary was already quite frustrated.

Now encountering this mess again, her remaining little patience was almost worn out.

Elliot restrained himself from kicking the guy in the stomach in front of him.

She frowned and said, ”I advise you not to plan on lying on the ground, refusing to get up. We would rather go to court than pay you a euro for such unethical behavior.”

”Sorry, sorry, it’s my issue.”

The backpacker didn’t scam anyone but didn’t get up immediately either. Instead, he pulled out a press card and a recorder from his pocket.

”I’m a special investigative journalist from ’Economic Critic.’ I’m begging Lady Yelena to take a moment of her precious time to answer a question for me.”

Elliot was silent for two seconds, then directly laughed out of anger.

In European society, in addition to the traditional separation of powers, journalists are regarded as the fourth power, balancing public opinion, and are often called the ”uncrowned kings” of society.

They are a mix of fearless heroes and vulgar paparazzi.

Journalists can don light body armor and run in bullet-ridden war zones for a news report, outsmart the FBI and CIA, or do something as tacky as retrieving condoms from a celebrity’s trash bin.

As for how to secure the precious opportunity to interview important figures.

Generations of journalist friends have summarized both gentle and tough approaches.

The softer strategy includes intentionally not washing for several days, dressing like a vagabond, and waiting in the parking lot of luxury hotels like the Hilton. When the interviewee’s car drives in, charge forward and pose as someone waiting day and night just for the chance to interview such an important figure to gain sympathy points.

Or take the more aggressive approach, like the guy at the airport who threatens to interview by snapping a photo of Van Doorn.

But to see someone head-on charging on a zebra crossing to stop a car... This was the first time Secretary Elliot encountered something like this.

”Sorry, I didn’t want to do this either. But Yilena Manor refused all journalists’ interview requests, leaving me with no choice but to resort to this extreme measure. Please, just allow me to ask a few questions.”

The journalist clasped his hands together, pitifully pleading.

Elliot couldn’t be bothered to pay him attention.

She opened her phone to look through the contacts, preparing to contact a lawyer and familiar acquaintances at the Glietz City police station.

Coverage by surveillance cameras in Europe isn’t extensive, but Miss Anna’s car certainly has a dashcam.

At worst, they’d resolve it in court.

She was about to dial the secretary’s phone number.

Her gaze swept over the crowd starting to gather at the roadside, holding their phones, ready to watch the drama.

Elliot hesitated slightly and then hung up the phone.

She returned to the car window, which had pulled over to the roadside.

”What’s happening? It looks like someone bumped into us. Was anyone hurt?”

Anna rolled down the car window and casually asked.

”It’s a journalist intentionally bumping into the car.”

Elliot quickly recapped the incident.

Since the rumors about infighting within the ’Oil Painting’ management started, waves of media interview requests and investigative reporters popping up like groundhogs outside the manor were endless.

Previously, Miss Ilina had Elliot decline all of them.

Unexpectedly, on the way back from the shareholders’ meeting, she encountered one who willingly bumped into them.

”Let him leave... wait.”

Ilina suddenly realized this might be an opportunity to generate buzz for Detective Cat before ’Little Prince’ goes public.

”Ah, do you know which publication the journalist is from?”

Anna thought for a few seconds and asked in response.