Debbie briefly regretted her original approach. Would revealing that she wanted to interview them about s*x for her column offend them?

Perhaps she had held prejudiced assumptions that dancers at entertainment venues would easily sleep with their customers.

She still needed to complete her assignment, but it seemed unlikely she would get the content she wanted. The dancers’ fight had clearly demonstrated their pride in selling dance, not their bodies—a sensitive point she had witnessed firsthand.

“I wanted to interview you about the glamour and shadows behind the stage. Could you spare some time?” Debbie asked.

Jane might actually be the most suitable interviewee. However, asking such questions would be cruel to someone who was sobbing after being accused by fellow dancers of selling her body. The entire premise of this assignment had been flawed from the start.

‘Do I really have the right to probe into others’ s*xual experiences?’

The weight of potentially hurting someone and destroying their pride simply by asking questions pressed heavily on Debbie’s shoulders.

Nevertheless, beyond Jane’s situation, Debbie wanted to arrange an interview with Lorraine. Their worlds had grown so far apart that without setting up a meeting now, she might never have another chance to reconnect.

This wasn’t just an interview for her column—it was an opportunity to spend even a little time with her.

“Debbie,” Lorraine called softly. “I’ve been dancing all day at the parade and then participated in this after-party. I’m exhausted. May I go home now?”

Another rejection. Debbie nodded in disappointment.

“I’m sorry… you must be tired, and here I am holding you back.”

“I have some free time next week. Would it be alright if I did the interview then?”

Lorraine unexpectedly added. For a moment, Debbie wondered if she had misheard.

“But in exchange… tell me about home. I hate talking about my hometown, but I find I want to hear about it.”

“Huh?”

“Since running away, I’ve tried not to even look in the direction of home.”

Lorraine’s eyes, which had seemed so cold, now glistened in the streetlight.

“But to think they were branded as leading conspirators among the rebel traitors…”

Her voice, thick with emotion, trembled at the end. Despite claiming she wanted to erase the past, her parents were clearly a separate matter.

“Couldn’t you just ask Lord Blake directly?” Debbie suggested.

Lorraine gave a bitter smile.

“Even though we live in the same hotel, he’s on the top floor. Someone like me, moving between the first floor and basement, never has the chance to meet him. I asked Mr. Fret, but he said Lord Blake only received his authority after Terium Province was completely reorganized. He knows nothing about what happened before.”

Ah!

Debbie recalled asking Blake directly. “He told me all previous records were burned by imperial decree.”

“I see…”

They had essentially received the same answer.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I remember,” Debbie offered.

A flash of sadness crossed Lorraine’s face. “Let’s meet with Steve and Meryl later too.”

“Oh? You’ve met them?”

These were the names of friends whose parents had been executed as rebellion instigators.

“Steve works at the casino, and Meryl works at the hotel.”

“I see…”

Lorraine wore an inscrutable, bitter smile. A heavy silence fell between them.

Fret approached, and Lorraine took his hand. He was escorting her to the carriage.

“Goodbye.”

After standing for a long while watching the carriage disappear, Debbie returned to where Jane had been.

As she was about to open the door, she caught sight of Allen embracing Jane, comforting her.

“Oh!”

Jane had buried her face in Allen’s chest, sobbing. Allen was offering words of comfort with his characteristically gentle smile.

Debbie quietly backed away, remembering Jane’s attraction to Allen. This was no place for her to intrude.

‘At times like this, the intruder should withdraw.’

Since Allen had introduced her to Jane, she could ask him later to arrange another meeting with Jane.

‘But where do I go now?’

The tram service had ended long ago, and asking Allen to call a carriage would mean paying an expensive late-night surcharge. Yet wandering the streets alone made her fear encountering rowdy drunks, vagrants, or robbers.

Debbie squatted briefly in front of Allen’s bar and sighed.

‘Research is important, but… I’m so unprepared.’

Her original plan had been to “stay overnight at Allen’s bar and go to work from there,” but she couldn’t remain at the bar for Jane’s sake.

Her eyes met those of a vagrant sitting in front of a darkened shop across the street. He grinned, showing his few remaining teeth.

‘Oh great…’

Debbie grumbled, avoiding his gaze. If the vagrant approached or tried anything, she would have no choice but to go back inside Allen’s bar. Though she hated to disturb Jane’s intimate moment, she couldn’t wander the night streets without a weapon or bodyguard.

This was especially true during the Founding Day festival, when groups of intoxicated people were causing disturbances everywhere.

‘Should I hire a bodyguard?’

Debbie pondered briefly. Her job required her to be out at night, and relying solely on minor defensive weapons like pepper spray or chili powder while traveling alone worried her.

‘I’ve been lucky enough not to experience anything dangerous so far, but luck doesn’t last forever.’

When her eyes met the vagrant’s again, he raised his eyebrows and winked, showing uncomfortable interest.

HONK!

A long automobile sped down the narrow alley with a blaring horn. Most people used carriages, but before magic declined, there had been quite a few magical vehicles. Now, with magic stones becoming extremely rare, only the very wealthy drove gasoline-powered automobiles.

Despite the black exhaust they emitted, driving them was purely for showing off wealth.

“Some people deliberately bring cars into narrow alleys full of drunk people,” Debbie muttered, squinting against the intense headlights.

HONK!

The car stopped right in front of her. It was packed beyond capacity with men and women in colorful festival makeup, all crammed together.

‘Why is the car stopping in front of me?’

Debbie looked at the chaotic scene inside with a puzzled expression.

“Miss Debbie? It is you, isn’t it?”

Her face contorted further at the familiar voice. The car’s owner was none other than Blake.

‘Sigh… If I’d known, I would have run straight back into the bar.’

Debbie half-covered her face and turned away, harboring a thin hope that he might just drive past if she remained silent.

HONK! HONK!

Instead, Blake noisily blared the horn and, with an arrogant expression, extended his hand, wiggling his fingers.

“Get in, quickly.”

Not satisfied with the humans already crammed into the back seat, Blake nodded toward the empty passenger seat.

“I have company,” Debbie said. Though she didn’t want to speak to Blake, who clearly had no intention of leaving, she had to say something.

“Just get in. Let’s go to my place and enjoy the party.”

Blake, seemingly oblivious to her feelings, wiggled his fingers again with that same arrogant expression.

Debbie barely swallowed the words “Are you crazy?” that nearly burst from her lips.

“I need to go inside,” she said, darting into the bar.

The door closed behind her with a soft sound rather than the slam she’d intended, apparently equipped with some kind of slow-closing mechanism.

She never wanted to get entangled with Blake again. She particularly disliked men who believed they could easily lure anyone into bed using their power.

Her one night with Blake had been so horrible that she wanted to erase it from her memory. She bit her lip, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“Alle—”

She was about to ask Allen to escort her at least to the publishing house when she stopped short.

Jane had removed her top and was wearing only a bra, while Allen’s once-neat shirt was completely unbuttoned. Jane, quite drunk and lost in the moment, was eagerly exploring Allen’s face and neck, kissing his lips.

Allen’s startled eyes briefly met Debbie’s before returning to Jane.

Debbie reflexively bounced back outside.

Thankfully, Blake’s car was gone.

Phew…

Debbie exhaled a long sigh of relief. But now the vagrant across the street was gripping an empty bottle, grinning as he approached her.

Wait, why is he suddenly coming over?

Debbie flinched and looked around. The cold sweat broke out at the thought of having to run back into the bar and interrupt Allen and Jane.

“Well, who do we have here? Miss Debbie?”

Debbie whirled around.

It was Gray. She was so relieved to see a familiar face that she rushed over and grabbed his arm.

“Oh!”

Debbie knew her behavior was abrupt, but she couldn’t help it. She was surprised to feel firm muscles through the sleeve she was holding. She wondered when he had found time to exercise, given his appearance suggested someone who only held pens.

The thought of Blake’s naturally muscular body flashed through her mind, making her furrow her brow.

‘That’s not fair, comparing him to President Blake. Now I feel annoyed.’

To change her mood, she asked sweetly, “Editor-in-Chief! What brings you here?”

Gray’s stiff reaction after being grabbed was uncomfortable, but Debbie greeted him with unusual friendliness.

“Uh…? Well… I stopped by the after-party for event staff and was walking back…”

Gray examined Debbie’s unusual behavior with a dubious expression.

“Wow, so you’re heading to the publishing house? Please take me with you!”

She had no idea where he had actually been heading. Without waiting for his answer, she practically pushed him along, walking out of the bar alley.

The approaching vagrant made a disappointed sound and returned to his original spot.

‘I never thought I’d be so happy to see Gray.’

Usually, he was her number one person to avoid since he constantly shouted “Deadline! Have you met your deadline?”

But today, he seemed to have a halo behind his head.

“Why was Miss Debbie there?”

Gray asked reluctantly as he was pushed toward the publishing house. Debbie gripped his sleeve tighter whenever they encountered drunk people on the street.

Everyone seemed to have been drinking heavily at this hour—Debbie and Gray appeared to be the only sober people around. Debbie was extremely grateful for his sobriety.

“I was researching for my column.”

“How passionate.”

Even while walking together, he kept looking around, his thoughts elsewhere.

Debbie also kept quiet, afraid that any casual conversation might lead to questions about her deadline progress.

An awkward silence hung between them until they neared the publishing house building. Gray took a deep breath despite not having run and shook off Debbie’s hand.

“Drunks won’t come down this alley.”

He seemed to understand why Debbie had pretended to be happy to see him without requiring an explanation.

Wow. Look at his perception. Amazing!

Debbie felt grateful to him for handling the situation without needing to be told. He meticulously dusted the sleeve she had been holding and smoothed out the wrinkles, almost compulsively.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?”

Debbie couldn’t understand why he would suddenly ask such a question.