Reporter Dimit

The black ribbons have already been hung on the treetops.

Dimit was thrilled when he received the message from the Silver and Tin Palace.

His fingers even trembled uncontrollably as he repeatedly stroked his precious camera in the carriage, as if thorns were growing from his bottom and he couldn't stop wriggling.

He is a reporter from the Glass Staircase Newspaper.

He was there two months ago when Iver bravely fought the ferocious Deformed Limb Demon at the "Holy Sword Medal" award ceremony.

To be more precise.

He was the reporter who, driven by intense fear upon the demon's appearance, frantically snapped photos of it. He was also the one who ultimately took pictures of Iver and Gordon after they defeated the demon.

Gordon's armor was battered and torn, his helmet falling off to reveal a resolute face drenched in sweat and grime; Iver, sitting in a slightly deformed wheelchair, had blood seeping from his chest, the Holy Sword Medal pinned to his breastplate stained crimson with his own blood, gleaming like a ruby in the twilight—

It became the best photo he ever took.

From then on, he was no longer just a photographer, but became a freelance reporter for the Glass Staircase Newspaper.

It could be said that that photograph changed his fate.

To put it more deeply, it is precisely because of Iver that he is who he is today.

The benefactor who saved his life and helped him achieve greater success in his life and career.

Unlike those who only knew Iver from the newspapers and therefore liked to criticize the overly young "Minister Moriarty," journalist Dimit greatly admired Iver.

Because he was actually there the whole time.

The demon emerged from that man's body right before Dimit's eyes—he knew how terrifying that twisted and ferocious demon was, and how chilling the fear that completely numbed the brain was.

That was a horror that no still photograph could capture. Not to mention, the horrific photo he took, depicting a demon tearing a human body apart and crawling out, never even passed the editor's review before being published in the newspaper.

In the face of such a demon, as a disabled person with limited mobility, even though he could have been escorted and safely evacuated, he was able to muster the courage to fight for others—this brave and resolute spirit is far superior to that of those knights!

If he doesn't become a knight, who will? That's why, whenever Dimit hears someone criticizing Iver while talking with colleagues at the newspaper office or doing interviews, he can't help but go over and say a few words in Iver.

Without a doubt, journalist Dimit is Iver Moriarty's number one fan!

Perhaps this reputation reached the ears of Iver himself...

Today, reporter Dimit was about to leave work when he suddenly received a notification from his editor-in-chief.

It is said that Iver Moriarty, the newly appointed Minister of Everything and a close confidant of Queen Isabel, intends to give an interview. He specifically requested the interview with the journalist who had taken his picture at the investiture ceremony.

The newspaper dared not delay and immediately Dimit. But in fact, even if the editor-in-chief hadn't strongly requested him, Iver hadn't specifically asked him to come, Dimit himself would have asked the editor-in-chief for the opportunity.

The agreed-upon interview location wasn't too far from the newspaper office, in the White Queen District. But they still took a horse-drawn carriage—walking would be too inconvenient, and they might even break a sweat, which would be impolite.

Dimit, dressed in his best clothes and carrying a notebook and pen, carefully entered the agreed-upon restaurant.

This is a restaurant owned by the owner of Iris- themed restaurant. It has very high ratings, but the prices are also exceptionally high.

Not far away is the villa area where the knights of the Round Table Hall reside. Several ministers live within 500 meters, and the area is patrolled day and night by White Feather Griffin and arbitrators from the Arbitration Hall.

For an interview, it's best to get a photo of the other person.

But Dimit dared not meet Minister Moriarty directly with his flashlight, as that might disturb Iver and displease him. So he simply placed his camera, camera stand, flashlight, and his tall, clumsy photography assistant outside the hotel.

If the conversation goes well, you might even be able to take a photo with them when they leave.

Dimit didn't recognize the restaurant's name—it was written in Iris Language, with no translation provided. Dimit had only completed primary school before coming to work on Glass Island.

This time, it was Iver who invited him to dinner. He was worried that his embarrassment would affect Iver.

He had already decided that he would only order the cheapest dish. He also didn't need to drink alcohol. Drinking too much might be embarrassing, and he might also stain Iver's clothes or the carpet.

However, he still felt uneasy when he saw the interior decoration.

The short, beret-wearing young man stood at the restaurant entrance, looking so embarrassed as he gazed at the soft wool carpet on the floor.

He stood at the doorway, rubbing his shoes vigorously on the mat before daring to go inside. The waiter at the door didn't question his clothes or actions at all, clearly indicating that Iver had given him instructions beforehand.

The waiters treated him with respect and politeness, leading the young reporter into a private room on the second floor.

Upon entering, Dimit smelled the rich and fragrant aroma of food inside.

He subconsciously sniffed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he silently swallowed.

He recognized Iver at a glance.

At that moment, Iver was sitting at the table, facing him.

There was only one person in the room, yet the table was laden with food. There were no waiters or servants.

This is clearly illogical.

Generally speaking, a distinguished guest like Minister Moriarty would definitely be accompanied by attendants when traveling. Even if his Elf Butler was temporarily away from the Glass Island, he should still have his own personal maid with him. And there should always be some servants in the house...

A cool breeze blew in when the door opened, Iver looked up and saw Dimit standing at the door, hesitant to come in.

Iver's smile was exceptionally friendly. He gestured to the seat in front of him. "Please have a seat, Mr. Dimit."

"... Yes, Minister Moriarty."

Dimit cautiously entered the room and sat down hesitantly.

Before he could ask a question, Iver said with a smile, "I thought you might be nervous, so I told them not to stay here."

"All the dishes are served. I'm sorry I didn't ask what you wanted to eat. But I think I ordered quite a lot. They might get cold if we don't eat them soon, so please eat quickly."

"Is everything served?" Dimit picked up his knife and fork and asked in a low voice, "I've heard that ministers always like to have their meals served one course at a time..."

That's right.

Iver nodded. "The dishes at the Silver and Tin Palace are not served in large quantities at once. If there isn't enough food or the food gets cold, it's taken away and replaced with dishes for another table. This custom comes from the Iris. According to the rules of this kind of restaurant, in order to preserve the flavor of the food, it is usually served one dish at a time."

The reporter asked curiously, "Then what is this...?"

"It's very simple."

Iver's gaze was profound. "Because I am the rule."

Those words silenced the young reporter.

Seeing his startled expression, Iver laughed, "Just kidding. Actually, I roughly guessed when you would arrive, so I had the waiter bring all the dishes over at the designated time—look, they're still warm."

"This way you can sit down and eat without being too nervous. You won't be at a loss for words, and you won't be staring at me speechless. Sitting face-to-face like this, wouldn't you feel like you're in prison? Hurry up and eat something. Otherwise, the food will get cold and be a waste."

Iver urged.

Seeing Dimit staring at the table full of food, unsure where to start, I suggested, "I recommend this. Grilled crab with crab mousse, caviar, and sweet corn. The crab won't taste good once it gets cold."

"...Oh well!"

Dimit instinctively obeyed Iver's suggestion.

The delicious crab mousse instantly captured his heart. He wanted to devour it, but worried that it would be too impolite in front of Iver.

"Next, try this, roasted pigeon. And this, smoked beef tenderloin and beef heart with mushroom sauce."

While Dimit was still being reserved, Iver continued to enthusiastically recommend food to him. There was so much food that he couldn't finish it quickly. Dimit, completely oblivious to everything else, even forgot he was there for an interview and could only focus on eating the lukewarm food, hoping to finish it before it got too cold—at least not to waste any.

Watching the young man fall into a blissful dilemma, Iver, who was actually seven or eight years younger than Dimit, simply smiled and ate his food with the same hearty gusto.