Hugo, Joseph, and Uma were all startled by the sudden black figure that leapt out.
The corner where Joseph had been standing wasn't exactly dark, but it was near the back door, and the lighting was dim. Moreover, all three of them had been focused on each other, never expecting someone to spring out like a hungry leopard. The sudden appearance shocked them, and Uma couldn't help but let out a scream.
Hugo instinctively pulled Uma behind him. Then he saw the black shape lunging toward his face. His hands were busy shielding Uma, leaving him no time to react. All he could sense was a black square object hurtling toward him. His pupils instinctively widened as he saw a massive object rapidly approaching, stopping just in front of his nose. Cold sweat broke out over Hugo's forehead.
"Hugo, there are rumors that…" A barrage of words shot toward him like laser fire, colliding with his mind, throwing him into chaos. Hugo could hear every word — though the speaker was talking so fast that the words blurred together, his brain struggled to process them.
"What?" Hugo furrowed his brow, panting slightly, and shouted to interrupt. He didn't understand what was happening, but he hoped to regain control.
The black figure finally paused, ceasing its rapid-fire speech, giving Hugo and the others a moment to comprehend the situation.
Standing in front of Hugo was a reporter. The black box in his hands was a camera. This was the same aggressive, annoying reporter from the interview half an hour ago. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with a slightly receding hairline and a weathered face, evidence of long days in the sun and wind. His deep eyes were hard to read in the dim light, but they flashed with sharp intelligence and calculation. Though short — barely reaching Hugo's chest — he was solidly built, with a sturdy frame. His plain white shirt and black pants made him blend into the crowd, while the camera around his neck alone probably cost more than all his belongings combined.
In truth, he was an ordinary man — the so-called "everyman" face, forgettable when passing by. Yet his eyes, like a cobra's, were enough to put anyone on alert.
Hugo sized him up in a blink. After giving Hugo a moment to react, the reporter began his question, "Hugo, there are rumors that you thought you were guaranteed to win Best Supporting Actor, but you didn't. What are your thoughts on that?"
This explained why the reporter had been so aggressive, repeatedly pressing the same point. But the problem was, Hugo had never said anything like that, not even jokingly. Since the New Year, he had been vacationing in Malibu with Uma, completely isolated, with no opportunity to comment on the Golden Globe outcomes.
Uma, standing behind Hugo, was pushed backward by the reporter's force, stumbling twice in the chaos. She instinctively grabbed onto Hugo's back, unsure whether it was to prevent herself from falling or to steady her racing heart.
Joseph immediately stepped forward to Hugo's side, trying to intervene between Hugo and the reporter. But the reporter clearly had no intention of giving space. Hugo felt Uma's hands on his shoulders, and instinctively stepped back slightly, pressing closer to her. He could feel her warmth, which calmed them both slightly — but the reporter continued to press, giving neither Joseph nor Hugo much room to breathe.
"Who are you? Which paper are you with?" Joseph demanded, taking control so Hugo wouldn't have to respond.
The reporter paused, staring Hugo down, as if deciding whether to tell the truth. Then his gaze drifted over Joseph, his lips curling into an unsettling, out-of-place smile. "Anthony Stewart, from The National Enquirer. You can call me 'Bond.'"
The National Enquirer is the highest-circulation supermarket tabloid in the U.S., notorious for fabrications and sensationalism. Anthony's behavior was typical; the paper thrives on inventing stories, misrepresenting facts, and digging into scandals.
Before Joseph could respond, Anthony pressed on. "Hugo, what do you think about these rumors? How do you feel about Gene winning? Disappointed?"
"I'm sorry, Hugo is not accepting interviews," Joseph finally interjected, raising an arm to block Anthony.
Inside, Joseph's anger was simmering. He could hardly believe Anthony's relentless pursuit over a mere "rumor." It was absurd — a complete fabrication. Hugo would never say such a thing. Joseph wanted to silence him, to make him leave, but he couldn't act rashly. As Hugo's manager, it was his duty to protect him while staying calm to control the situation. Grinding his teeth, he confronted Anthony.
Hugo, hearing such an absurd question, felt a surge of indignation. Not "nameless anger" — any person being accused so brazenly by a stranger would be furious. Hugo had spent the past three weeks in Malibu, speaking to no one about the Golden Globes, and his attitude was not at all as Anthony claimed. It was utterly ridiculous.
Uma, standing behind Hugo, had been shielded from Anthony's gaze, but now she felt the venomous intensity in his eyes. Her hands on Hugo's shoulders felt scorching, as if they might be burned away. Startled, she peeked past Hugo at Anthony, but it was as if he had anticipated it. The terrifying look twisted her chest tight.
Hugo seemed to sense Uma trembling, but his mind was consumed by anger. Besides protecting her, he could do little else. He had tried to explain to Anthony that the rumor was false, but Anthony clearly didn't believe him. Hugo went silent and fixed his clear eyes on Anthony, silently expressing protest and refusal.
Anthony, however, had no intention of backing down. He boldly met Hugo's gaze, the camera still pressing close to his face, nearly covering two-thirds of Hugo's vision. The calculating glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by aggressive insistence. "So, recently I heard you were acting like a diva. I doubted the story at first and wanted to verify it, but now it seems… you really are acting like a diva!"
Although Joseph tried to put space between Anthony and Hugo, his efforts were largely ineffective. The main problem was that Uma was behind Hugo, making it difficult for Hugo to turn or step back. This allowed Anthony to stick close, maintaining his relentless pressure. No matter what Joseph did, Anthony's snake-like gaze never left Hugo, using both words and eyes to intimidate him.
"What did you just say? When did I ever act like a diva?!" Hugo finally snapped, unable to hold back. First it was about the award, now this accusation of diva behavior — it all seemed utterly absurd. Unconsciously, his hands clenched into fists, and the veins on his arms bulged, betraying the rising anger in his chest.
Joseph had initially intended to intervene, but his own temper was fraying. Some slander could be ignored — like Anthony's first ridiculous question — no one would take that seriously. But other accusations couldn't be overlooked, like the claim of diva behavior. After a year of painstaking effort, Hugo had finally reached a new peak in his career. Rumors of arrogance at this point would only make him seem reckless and entitled, which was absolutely unacceptable.
So Joseph wanted to act as the responsible manager, but anger made it hard to stay rational. He didn't stop Hugo; instead, he glared at Anthony just as fiercely, and in a restrained, controlled voice shouted, "Anthony, you should know the consequences of defamation! You never have any evidence for your words — you'd better shut that damn mouth of yours!"
"Chicago, Everlasting Street — remember now?" Anthony, clearly well-prepared, ignored the combined pressure from Hugo and Joseph and continued his assault without pause. "Faced with fans' enthusiasm, you didn't sign autographs, take photos, hug anyone, or even pause. You just turned and left, letting a wave of fans' excitement meet a Siberian cold. You've only just started making a name for yourself, and yet you treat your fans this way. If this isn't diva behavior, what is? Do we have to wait until you physically attack fans before it counts?"
Anthony's unreasonable accusations pushed both Hugo and Joseph to the brink of losing control. Their fists clenched as the tension in the room thickened, ready to snap at any moment.
Uma, standing behind Hugo, still had a fragment of rationality. She quickly patted his shoulder. "Calm down, Hugo. Stay calm." That was all she could say — her mind was in a fog, and she couldn't form coherent words. Her instincts, however, told her one thing: they had to remain composed.
But with Anthony's relentless stream of slander, staying calm was easier said than done.
...
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