Chapter 505: Sunfall (1/2)
The interview ended in due time. A small crowd of curious adventurous students etched ever so close to the faculty office. The reporters stood to stride out the office. Lia paused to gesture at Chef Leko. A gentle push had him follow behind. The empty seat was soon filled by photographers moving close. Flashes blinded the eyes, they gave subtle instructions on how to smile, how to act, and how to pause. A subtle photoshoot to promote the next issue. The live-steam ended with many viewers peaking at 5,043 reaching the end.
Snippets of the interview soon traveled around social media. Many, prominently 'girls' were quoting, sharing, and reposting said clips. A certain one where he'd casually lift the long hair eventually garnered 'trending' status. Most of the traffic occurred on Thwan where users often quote other users. One thing led to the other, a certain profile on Hwan (used to post and share pictures) linked to Igna's personal account. A profile relatively quiet holding about a few dozen followers and two pictures. One of Azure's pass, and the other of another landscape. More than he'd enjoy, the pictures were liked by hundreds of people to rest at around seven-hundred.
”Igna,” tinkled Éclair, ”-looks like you're back in the spotlight.” By that, he meant the cult-like following. There came in to play the video of him cooking with Lady Yuki. By all accounts, Igna, not to exaggerate, is handsome, very much so. A man who'd many ladies wouldn't disagree to speak and engage in conversation. Not to discriminate, boys playing for the other team might have been interested as well. As means to tease, live-footage of what circulated the Arcanum scrolled along with the display.
”Medusa's prodigy is so cute,” said one linking to the interview.
”The way he speaks, I love his voice,” said another using a heart-eyes sticker.
”I can't believe he's been cooking for so short a time.”
”Look at this guy,” said another in caps, ”-thinks he's great and all, what's to see about him. All there I see is some guy doing an interview, what's this platform coming up too.” Said quote was requoted by another user saying, ”-what do you see, all I see is you overusing see. Obviously below average dudes will feel uneasy at that man's persona.” Thus, a war flamed in the comment section of the pinned quote, an argument of young boys and girls spread onto multiple paragraphs.
”Igna Haggard,” quoted another, ”-we finally have a name to pin with the face.”
”I've found the Hwan account,” said they sharing his username. Cunningness over the Arcanum wasn't really a thing to consider until now, the phone vibrated constantly per follower.
”Using Kinless as the username and Igna Haggard is sort of dumb on your part,” mocked Éclair. ”-Not to mention you're being followed by Prince Julius Arnet Haggard who boasts over 3.2 million followers on Hwan and 7 million on Thwan.”
”The follower count is impressive. I did feel a little honored to have such a person follow me back.”
”Well, well,” said Éclair, ”-you might be Arcanum famous soon.” The bootleg shoot ended. Lighting and cameras were loaded into black-bags.
Giggling at the sudden experience, ”-excuse me,” called a man dressed smartly. The face was generic as far as one could describe, the general smile of an office-worker. Short hair and a clean-shaven jaw.
”Can I help you?” returned Igna smiling.
”Yes, yes,” said he, ”-My name's Yone, I'm part of the team that manages Weekly Digest's social media. Could you please sign this form and input your social media information, we'll need it for promotion.”
”Alright,” he stared at the page blankly.
”Nothing out of place,” said Éclair, ”-the paper is clean. Go sign and let's go.” Leaned over the table, few assistants briefly stared at the rather inviting posture. A clear of the throat by one of the supervisors resumed the flow of work. Items were taken out and soon the office returned to normal. No sign of any interview was there. A fake fireplace video played over in the corner. Thing was, the television was nailed onto the wall, so it served no purpose than to only give a non-realistic ambiance. 'Chalk it up to the Chef's whims,' thought Igna. The date showed the 27th of January, night came upon the privilege academy.
'What's my bike doing here?'
”Like it?” inquired Éclair, ”-I had it brought over from the Academy. Figured you'd enjoy the road-trip.”
”Like it?” skipping a few stairs and nearly kissing the tarmac, the interviewer left as they came, silent and uninteresting. Leko stood onto the walkway by his secretary. ”Igna,” he voiced without looking.
”Yes chef,” clutching the helmet between the torso and arms, ”-did I miss something?”
”Are you going somewhere?” evening dawned in rosy-purple. The clouds were scattered upon the casted backdrop of the setting sun. Patches of white close and far, the distance daunted one's perception. The more he'd stare up, the more apparent the curvature of the planet seemed. Images of a snow globe, a trapped cage for the pleasures of someone's desk. Beyond it lays the presence of a higher being. He who controls the fate of the 'reality' many knew and loved. A moment of reflection, a moment of psychology, time seemed to skip, Leko walked blurrily. The figure transposed onto the road, splashes of white, splashes of dark, distorted colors, at the center came to a twirl, *thud.* 'Not now,' sharp canines pushed against the inner-cheeks. 'I need to go, like now,' the more he waited, the heavier became the breathing, a pinching headache, and parched lips.
”Igna, are you ok?” inquired Leko holding the shoulder.