"Have you only recently become a reporter?"
After Reporter Dimit had filled his stomach a little, Iver asked him this question.
"Yes, Mr. Moriarty!"
Dimit spoke respectfully and excitedly. "It's all thanks to you!"
He held a glass of wine in his hand, and his cheeks were already slightly flushed.
"For someone like me, becoming a reporter was practically impossible... Being a reporter is a sacred and highly demanding profession, and I was clearly unworthy of it."
Dimit grew somewhat dejected as he spoke. But he quickly perked up again. "But it was because I took that photograph for you—I mean, I'll definitely do everything I can to prove myself!"
"You'll become a fine reporter."
Iver encouraged him gently. "Because you've always held respect for the profession of 'reporter' in your heart. Only if you genuinely want to become a good reporter, only if you personally set foot on this path, can you have the resolve and perseverance to overcome all the difficulties along the way. Only then will you have the chance to keep going, reach the end, and ultimately stand at the summit."
He interlaced his fingers, holding them before him in the shape of a pyramid.
Dimit's spirits rose even further. "I'll work hard, Mr. Moriarty!"
"I have high hopes for you."
As Iver spoke, he lowered his voice. "You know, Dimit..."
At this, Dimit instinctively shrank his neck and put on an attentive expression. "Please, go on."
This was not an act. He was genuinely responding in kind from the bottom of his heart.
Dimit had possessed the talent for "reading people's expressions" since childhood. Although he was poorly educated, he could always get along well with others. That was because he was exceptionally good at listening. People always felt comfortable when chatting with him.
For