To be perfectly honest, Debbie wasn’t particularly beautiful in a way that matched his taste or left a strong impression—she was simply somewhat unique.

But her column was the problem. That column which had elevated him to heaven before plunging him into an endless abyss!

Previously, she had toyed with his male pride, but now she had praised his writing skills to the skies with boundless enthusiasm.

His heart pounded wildly at her generous evaluation, like someone who had never once been complimented on his writing before.

“Debbie, I…”

Blake intended to confess to her right then that he was both the AB journalist and the white-gloved phantom thief she had been praising so fervently.

Knock, knock, knock.

If only there hadn’t been that ill-timed knock on the editor-in-chief’s door.

He withdrew his outstretched hand, suddenly realizing he had nearly pulled Debbie into his arms.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s well past quitting time. If there’s nothing urgent, may we leave now?”

Team Leader Louis poked his head through the door crack with a seemingly obsequious smile. He even gestured for Debbie to come out, throwing her a cold glance.

Blake felt dizzy realizing he had nearly made a confession while caught up in the moment.

He had completely forgotten that others might be listening, so focused was he on Debbie. She had become the only person he could see.

“I need to borrow Ms. Debbie for just a moment before she leaves—there’s something important I must discuss with her.”

Blake inhaled deeply in resignation and gestured for Debbie to leave the room.

As soon as Debbie stepped outside, her conversation with Team Leader Louis reached Blake’s ears clearly, seemingly intended for him to overhear.

“…So. Did you finish the column or not? Are you really going on hiatus? A rookie? I told you we’ve already finished editing and proofreading everything else, and we can start printing as soon as we get your column.”

“…I’m sorry.”

It seemed the issue was about the column. Both the editor-in-chief and Debbie had been preoccupied with other matters, preventing them from properly completing their work.

Gulp.

Blake unconsciously swallowed hard again.

“It’s not easy working on something so practical…”

“What about the content you wrote in your proposal? You used that excuse to go out on field work!”

“When the interview subject isn’t willing…”

‘Does she need a partner again?’

His heart rate increased dramatically, making his chest feel tight.

Perhaps this was an opportunity to redeem himself from her terrible evaluation in the previous column. The thought filled him with anticipation, but simultaneously, his side stung sharply.

“Ugh!”

The pain he had been suppressing suddenly made itself known again.

‘With my body in this condition, I can’t help with her column even if I wanted to.’

“I’m trying to find another subject, but it’s not easy…”

Debbie answered in a barely audible voice.

A disturbing thought suddenly struck him—what if Debbie was looking for another partner?

‘Why am I worrying about this? We’re not even dating.’

He stopped pacing and took a deep breath.

“Is saying sorry enough? If you can’t find suitable material, I told you to just patch together previous columns to create something similar!”

“Well…”

“You’ve written about the best s*xual experience, and then about the worst relationship. So now write about something in the middle—an experience that’s neither the best nor the worst, just lukewarm.”

“Writing mediocre content isn’t my style. It would be disrespectful to the previous columnist to write carelessly.”

Blake paced back and forth in the editor’s office, feeling anxious and unsettled.

Even now, Debbie’s praise for AB kept replaying endlessly in his mind.

Thump, thump.

His heart felt ready to burst.

Even when he robbed Judge Humming’s house, he hadn’t felt this nervous.

‘Sigh. If I reveal that I’m actually journalist AB, could I improve the bad image I have as the company president?’

He considered this seriously.

“Who’s talking about style? If you’re struggling with creativity, just copy something similar to your best or worst piece. Have you forgotten the deadline?”

“I… I don’t want to face either of them again. Whether it was the best or worst experience, I don’t want to encounter the same situation again…!”

“Huh? Why? It’s not like you’ll run into them again. I’m not asking you to interview the same person.”

“Ah!”

At that moment, Debbie let out a startled cry and began frantically searching through the books and documents on the desk, pretending to look for something.

She searched so desperately that she created quite a commotion.

Unable to contain his curiosity at the unexpected noise, Blake peered outside.

“What’s wrong all of a sudden?”

“I just remembered I left an important file among the waste papers. I’m looking for it!”

Debbie moved around busily, searching here and there, looking too preoccupied to speak. When she turned around, she realized Blake had been listening to everything.

“Mr. President! I’m sorry for calling Debbie out while you were speaking. Hahaha. I would have waited until you finished, but the manuscript deadline is right around the corner…”

Team Leader Louis scratched his head and forced a smile.

Blake crossed his arms and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. Both columns were written about experiences with him.

Saying she didn’t want to face either the best or worst again essentially meant she didn’t want to sleep with the phantom thief again.

Why the phantom thief too…?

Wasn’t the white-gloved phantom thief a good memory?

Blake fumed silently.

Why did she dislike even the phantom thief!!

Eventually, with a small noise, Debbie returned to her place.

“I almost threw it away. Whew, thank goodness. Now, where were we? I’m so busy that I’m talking nonsense.”

Debbie continued to feign distraction.

“Debbie, I need that column right away. We’re out of time. Give me the column before noon tomorrow.”

Team Leader Louis urged Debbie once more before turning to Blake with a servile smile.

“Then, I’ll be leaving now, Mr. President.”

Only Blake and Debbie remained in the publishing house after everyone had gone home.

Debbie waited for Blake to speak, occasionally glancing at the large clock on the wall.

Blake couldn’t bring himself to say what he had practiced on his way here. Instead, with a stiff expression, he finally parted his heavy lips.

“Ms. Debbie, speaking of personal matters, was I the terrible boss in your last column?”

“No, not at all!”

Debbie shouted emphatically as soon as the words left his mouth. Her face turned red again.

“I… I always interview anonymous subjects and then write about them in my column…”

Like telling him to close his eyes and pretend not to see.

“It’s my magazine, and you submitted it for me to read?”

“I wrote based on my research. Do you happen to know the person I interviewed?”

Debbie fidgeted uncomfortably, clasping her hands together, unsure how to respond.

“We slept together at the hotel. The content of the column is remarkably similar to my memory.”

His pent-up frustration grew as he dwelled on the infuriating column.

At that moment, Debbie, who had been frantically scanning her surroundings for something to say, seemed delighted to spot something on the bookshelf.

“That must be your imagination. I absolutely never write columns about my personal experiences. Why would I deliberately upset you? As I mentioned earlier, I only want to work here for a long time.”

Who was it that seduced him to be her first experience partner for the sake of writing a column?

Blake repeatedly ran his fingers through his neatly styled hair, irritated by her provocative smile.

That day, if she hadn’t smiled so beautifully…

If he hadn’t fallen for her seduction when she narrowed her bright green eyes and smiled softly…

Then he wouldn’t have cared what she wrote in her column.

Whether aware of his thoughts or not, Debbie kept smiling with her lips slightly upturned.

“Or perhaps the person I interviewed happens to know you well.”

“Your source knows me?”

“To protect their identity, I can’t reveal details, but you don’t just own our publishing house. Don’t you have quite a few female employees at your hotel alone? The interview subject might coincidentally overlap. Ahaha.”

The more Debbie tried to salvage the situation, the colder Blake’s expression became.

“I’m certain it’s about me. What proof do you need?”

“How strange. Writing isn’t photography. How could you possibly know the boss in the story is you? There isn’t a single word that specifically identifies the boss’s appearance or status.”

Debbie, who had somehow moved closer to Blake, reached out toward him.

Swoosh.

Since her hand was moving toward his injured side, he flinched and moved away. However, Debbie was actually reaching for the bookshelf behind him.

Debbie had thoroughly read through past issues of “Troublesome” multiple times.

She now roughly remembered which articles appeared on which pages of which monthly issues.

“You’re a generous person, Mr. President. You’ve overlooked articles like this before, so please believe that my column isn’t about you and let it go. Please?”

Debbie opened a past issue of “Troublesome” wide. Following her gesture, the headline of a special article was clearly visible.

“The Empire’s Garbage Can Doesn’t Disappoint This Time Either.”

Below the title was a photo that was unmistakably Blake, with only his eyes covered by black tape for a mosaic effect.

The image showed him spraying champagne and throwing money around on a yacht with scantily clad women.

Gulp.

Blake was speechless. If he were to explain, this was an image he had deliberately crafted.

He had cultivated every negative trait—’promiscuous, thoughtless, lustful, and materialistic’—for a purpose.

It was to provoke his birth mother, who might be watching him from somewhere, though she probably didn’t care at all.

Throughout college, he had thoroughly explored all manner of debauchery and depravity just to get under her skin.

But his mother, whom he thought would at least scold him for being pathetic, still hadn’t shown herself, and his reputation had only worsened to the point where he couldn’t properly conduct business.

‘I never thought it would still be holding me back even now.’

It was because of awkward situations like today that he had created the persona of Gray—a character who was inflexible and principled.

When he actually started writing, it became clear that direct reporting would inevitably face censorship due to strict media regulations, so he created the guest journalist AB as a workaround.

Yet nothing in the world changed.

No matter how much he exposed, they would cut off their own tails while the main body disappeared.

After that, he began climbing over walls to steal ledgers containing their shameful secrets. The article Debbie pointed to was one he had written himself as a smokescreen to cover up his theft on that date.

‘And she happens to point to an article I wrote myself.’

Debbie cheerfully pointed to his other vulgar nicknames with a bright smile.