Chapter 465 - 299: The Devil is a Clever Little Devil
Morris was quite resilient, and he quickly accepted the reality that his quirky little hobby was now widely known.
Besides, it wasn’t *that* public. The footage of his rescue hadn’t been broadcast live.
So it was still just an inside joke.
Modern society still has a hard time accepting unusual fashion choices.
’Just a minor case of social death, no big deal.’
Compared to what he’d gained from detonating the Mechanical Armor, this was nothing.
Morris was truly famous now.
It was a whole different level from the minor fame he’d had when *Shadow of Evil* was airing.
He had absolutely blown up.
Lately, he couldn’t even leave his house without a disguise. From the moment he was recognized to the moment he was mobbed, the whole process took less than two minutes.
It wasn’t exactly convenient for his daily life.
But psychologically, it was an incredible rush.
Not that he’d ever thought about fame when he made his decision. After all, he had been fully expecting to die.
But who could have guessed he’d survive?
’Now, life feels wonderful.’
Most intelligent beings have their little "vices"—fame, fortune, lust. They’re always drawn to at least one.
Morris’s vice was fame.
The only nuisance were the reporters and content creators who flocked to his new fame.
When reporters couldn’t get to him, they started targeting his younger brother, Xiaomo. Fortunately, Xiaomo was cooped up in his lab all day and wasn’t easy to find.
So the reporters dug deeper into his social network, targeting Xiaomo’s colleagues, Morris’s former classmates, and even Sir Gordo and his entire household.
Then there were the anecdotes about Morris’s childhood. He himself had already seen no fewer than ten different versions.
Each one more legendary than the last.
In reality, his childhood had been painfully dull—nothing but single-minded studying and grinding through practice problems. Otherwise, he never would have qualified for the government scholarship to study abroad.
If the fabricated anecdotes were barely tolerable, the clout-chasers were on another level of absurd.
So-called ex-girlfriends, long-lost cousins, the old man from next door who "watched him grow up"...
These accounts all seemed to pop up overnight with astonishing efficiency.
Still, his immense fame wasn’t without its perks. He had, for all intents and purposes, committed treason against the Loman Empire. And though he insisted he hadn’t betrayed the Empire, only the Imperial Family, he was still stripped of his citizenship.
In response, Sutton had swiftly arranged citizenship for him—and with residency in Twin Tower City, no less.
As the wealthiest city on the entire Continent, residency in Twin Tower City had always been highly sought-after.
A popular saying on the street was, "Even if you’re born a dog, make sure you’re born in Twin Tower City."
Morris, however, suspected that Sutton’s haste in granting him citizenship was partly a way to spite Loman.
But he didn’t care. He had no desire to return to Loman anyway.
The name Morris had now become synonymous with freedom, resistance, and courage.
His image was now entirely symbolic.
That blurry image from the live broadcast—of him raising the Rune Stone high, about to be engulfed in flames—was recreated in paintings of every imaginable style and sculptures of every conceivable material.
Besides the reporters, merchant guilds were also desperate to find him every day.
Every merchant guild in Feilin wanted him for their ad campaigns.
The products were all over the map, regardless of whether they fit his image. Toys, furniture, and games were understandable enough, but he couldn’t wrap his head around the offers for things like health supplements for the elderly and baby products.
There was even a women’s clothing company that wanted him for an endorsement!
Okay, he was actually a little tempted by that last one. For a moment, Morris suspected they must have had some inside information.
He turned them all down, however, refusing even the piles of shiny Gold Coins delivered right to his door.
This, in turn, led to another wave of online praise for his unimpeachable integrity.
In truth, he really wanted the money. But Zog had warned him that the nature of his fame was different from an entertainer’s. He couldn’t just accept any random endorsement; it would quickly tarnish the reputation he’d so painstakingly built.
The path for him, Zog had said, was to give speeches at schools and make appearances at charity events. That was a meal ticket he could cash for the rest of his life.
Morris chose to trust Zog.
’I’ll maximize my profits and make this last a lifetime!’
Therefore, he staunchly refused all the merchant guilds and issued a public statement declaring he would not accept any commercial endorsements.
Anyone who came calling was stopped at the door, barred from entry.
But there’s an exception to every rule.
Today’s visitor could not be stopped.
Today’s visitor was Asmodis.
It was only then that Morris learned that this simple, honest-looking, portly man with questionable taste in clothes was, in fact, the legendary Lord of Hell.
At that moment, he suddenly realized that his social circle was, perhaps, a tad outrageous.
As for why Asmodis had come looking for him...
"I would like to invite you to be the Cultural Exchange Ambassador for Hell and Feilin," the Lord of Hell said with utmost seriousness.
"Huh?" Morris couldn’t process that for a moment.
"It means you’ll act as a representative, attending various cultural exchange events for Devils and the inhabitants of the Main Plane. Oh, and our other ambassador is currently Miss Starling," Asmodis explained.
He then produced a document outlining the various exchange activities between Devils and the Main Plane.
He had clearly done a great deal of research recently, worrying himself sick over the future of Hell and his kin.
The plans included tourist itineraries, literary and artistic works, art exhibitions, orchestra tours, and student exchanges. Hell had even managed to throw together a school in just a few weeks—something akin to a military academy, since getting Devils to build a traditional academic institution was, admittedly, a huge pain.
There were also Magic skill exhibitions, Alchemy Creation trade fairs, and various gaming and sports competitions.
It was a whole laundry list of things.
Morris knew of Miss Starling. During his recent housebound days, he had binged all the new works he’d missed while he was in Villain.