Xavier had just run his hand over the fine material of the black suit when his phone buzzed on the table. The caller ID flashed Oliver. Without hesitation, he picked it up.
"Yeah?"
Oliver’s voice ca sharp and urgent. "You seeing the news right now?"
Xavier frowned, eyes narrowing. "What happened?"
"Just turn it on. Now."
Xavier grabbed the remote and flicked the holoscreen alive. The channel jumped straight into a replay of last night’s fight with the Lizards. The footage was shaky, captured from scattered angles, but edited together to paint a clear picture. His strikes looked brutal, his aura flaring in ways that seed monstrous.
Comntators filled the gaps with smug voices.
"Another example of reckless, unprovoked violence."
"He clearly escalated the fight instead of defusing it. Look at how rcilessly he struck even when the Lizards were trying to back off."
On one split-screen, "reactors" were chiming in, shaking their heads with exaggerated disgust, spouting biased takes as if they’d been waiting for this chance to drag his na down.
He didn’t need Oliver to spell it out—the narrative was being twisted against him
Oliver’s voice cut through the noise of the broadcast. "They’re not just airing the fight. They’re hamring you, Xavier. Every damn panelist, every reactor, they’re all pushing the sa script. That doesn’t happen by chance. Soone’s pulling strings."
Xavier leaned back on the couch, eyes locked on the screen but mind working behind them. "You’re saying this isn’t just bad luck. Soone wants dragged through the mud."
"Exactly." Oliver’s tone sharpened. "Question is—do you know who?"
For a mont, Xavier said nothing. He thought back to the club, to the manager’s strangely soft attitude, almost too soft. That man had the ans and the connections to spin things. But then Xavier shook his head faintly. If it were the manager, there would’ve been cleaner, quieter ways to hurt him. More efficient. This... was ssy. Public. Risky. No, it had to be soone else.
He finally spoke, voice even but edged. "I’ve made too many enemies lately. Could be anyone."
Oliver sighed. "That’s what cos with being a celebrity. Millions love you, but there’ll always be plenty waiting for the first crack to tear you apart. This? This is their shot."
Xavier’s eyes narrowed at the sight of his own frozen image on the screen—arm cocked back mid-strike, painted as a monster.
Oliver continued, "You need to clear this up fast. Put out your own side before this snowballs. If your fans start buying into this narrative, it won’t just be haters gunning for you—it’ll be your own people turning their backs."
Xavier lowered the phone from his ear, his expression calm but tight. "Thanks, Oliver. I owe you one," he said before ending the call.
Both Lyra and Lilia leaned closer from the couch, their eyes searching his face. Lyra was the first to ask, "What happened? Why did Oliver call like that?"
"Yeah," Lilia followed, her tone softer but worried. "What’s going on?"
Xavier brushed a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it." He sat there for a mont, silent, before letting out a heavier sigh. "I’m not in the mood for this right now... but there’s no other choice."
He picked up his phone, thumb hovering for a second before tapping the screen. The notification lit up instantly—LIVE.
Within seconds, millions poured into the stream. Comnts rolled so fast they blurred.
[Holy shit he’s live!!]
[King’s here!!!]
[Xav what’s up man!]
[Bro we just saw the news... is it true??]
[What news?? What did I miss??]
[Don’t tell they’re going after him again...]
[Stop spreading fake shit, he hasn’t even spoken yet.]
[Boss looks serious rn.]
[OMG notice senpai!!
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