The 22-year-old F/N Reiss is a dreamer, per say. Unlike many, they give it their all to pursue those dreams, doing absolutely anything and everything just to achieve them. But what if this young, promising journalist's one way ticket to success is a...
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"The roars out of the taxi's engine I just exited out of echoed the street I now found myself to be on. Huge, expensive mansions were standing tall on each side of the road, each one seemed more expensive than the other. Palm trees and short, neatly cut bushes were decorating the sidewalk, pots filled with colorful flowers divided the two opposite direction road lanes. God damn it, even the concrete seemed glamorous in my eyes. It was a pretty luxurious neighborhood, obviously unfamiliar to me. Well, it is fit for a celebrity.
Right now, the only thing standing between me and the house I was searching for was an iron gate. I didn't know where to ring, or just notify my arrival. I didn't know if I would be too nosy, but I figured nobody was even expecting for me to come either way so I might as well just get this over with. I found a small speaker looking box pinned to the wall the gate was connected to, with a small red button in the middle. Well, I guess I had no other choice but to try it out.
Silence. Was the button broken? Did I perhaps press the wrong button? What did I even activate with this?! Absolute anxiety washed over my body, sweat dripping and shining off of my forehead, smudging my foundation. As my patience was slowly running out, I heard a sound that sounded like a hum come out of the speaker.
"Who is this?" a soft, most likely male voice responded from the other side of the line.
"Uh... this is F/N Reiss, and I'm a journalist from Shock Talk. I'm looking for um... Jean Kirstein? Does he live here?"
"I'm sorry, but we don't take unscheduled appointments, and I don't remember anybody named 'F/N Reiss' having a meeting with Mr Kirstein."
This could only mean that I was talking to his manager, so at least I got the house correct. I saw this coming, so I came prepared.
"I know, sir, but this is worthy of hearing out. I need to discuss an important matter with your client. It can help his carrier a lot and–"
"I'll repeat myself once again, we don't take unscheduled appointments. I'll politely ask you to leave this property immediately."
"As I told you, I understand, but please at least consider my offer–"
"Marco, please let this lovely guest in. They clearly have something to say about an important idea that can apparently improve my carrier, and I'm intrigued."
From all of a sudden, a bit deeper voice appeared on the other side of the line, which I could only assume was Jean himself. At that moment, I could hear the sound of the big iron gate in front of me opening, leading the way to the front yard. I guess luck was on my side today.
The house was a medium sized mansion, its façade was painted off-white, architecture a french style, possibly late 19th century inspired. The garden wasn't huge but it was filled with greens and colorful flowers, clearly well taken care of. There was also a garage and a small fountain in the middle of the garden. Nothing overall was that huge, but it all seemed posh and luxurious. I found my way to the front door, two-winged and pretty tall. I stood right before them, and as I was about to ring the doorbell, a tall, freckled brunet opened the door for me. He looked around my age, somewhere in his early twenties, bangs slicked back and skin a little bit tanned.
