Chapter 40: Cold-Hearted Devil
The moment Yelena’s eyes narrowed and her calm yet terrifying voice demanded their names, the entire room went silent.
The reporters felt their hearts pounding in their ears, each second heavier than the last. That suffocating pressure, the aura of a goddess who had truly lost her patience, pressed down on their spines like a crushing weight.
One of the men, his hands trembling, hesitated. His lips quivered as he stammered out. "W-Why...why do you need that...?"
His voice barely rose above a whisper, but Yelena didn’t answer.
She simply turned her cold, crystalline gaze directly onto him. The intensity in her eyes sent an unnatural chill crawling down his back.
Her tone didn’t rise, didn’t falter. It was terrifyingly calm as she asked again,
"Name. And the media outlet you belong to...Now."
The man felt the blood drain from his face. His legs buckled under him as he realized this wasn’t a request, it was a command.
And he wasn’t built to disobey a goddess.
"I-It’s Vincent Sartos. I work for The National Eye." He stammered, lowering his head.
"Next."
f|re(e)web.n\ovel. (c)o.m
The next reporter, a young woman clutching her broken camera, swallowed hard, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.