Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System Chapter 205 Shameless gathering of sympathy

The solution ca to Tristan a mont later.

'If Gospel's influence spreads through public opinions, I have to skew it to my side to fix this, and do it right now. Things won't get better if I just wait for things to subside on their own.'

This was much easier said than done, though. Tristan couldn't write a speech compelling enough to counter Gospel's influence, and he doubted anyone could.

'I should focus on my own strengths. Say… I'm not as good with words, but unlike Gospel, I can actually show my face to people. There are still so many of them who adore , and plenty of others who will just feel sympathetic toward another human. Toward soone who acts like their friend. Then I can use my own skills to sway them on my side.'

Tristan humd thoughtfully under his breath, then called Derek.

It was evening—his off-hours, technically, but the man picked the call quickly.

"Mr. Gello. Did you need sothing? Dr. gglin still can't give any definite answer about what Mr. Mayar is sick with, if you wanted to ask about that."

"No… I know about that. Derek, I think it's ti to release a public statent on the matter of show business at the mont, and I want you to help compose it. This scandal won't just quieten on its own like the others, and we all need so good public opinions for a change."

From what Tristan knew, Derek so-far was giving a mostly noncommittal response, following the strategy of "not feeding the trolls". It obviously wasn't working.

Derek paused for a mont.

"This might just make matters worse for you. The first ti you spoke against him, Gospel released this piece of his, and you beca one of the primary targets. And now Mr. Mayar is sick…"

"It's a risk, but a necessary one," Tristan said gravely. "I want to ask Nelson's help, too—as much as he can reply."

"Help? He can barely wake up for long enough to say 'hello', Mr. Gello!"

"He can wake up for long enough to listen to my idea. Just hear this…"

***

Next day, Tristan repeated the sa plan, with so minor changes and fixes from Derek to Nelson.

Despite all the best care, the mysterious illness clearly took a heavy toll on him. His cheeks looked sallow and there were heavy bags under his eyes despite all the ti Nelson spent asleep. His hair hung limply down on his forehead.

The sight made anger boil in Tristan's gut, inspiring him to shoot Gospel between his eyes when they will finally et face to face.

He still smiled at Tristan and Derek when they woke Nelson up. Tristan brought fresh flowers for his nightstand vase, and Derek left a bag of candy near it.

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"Hi, Nel," Tristan said, sitting in a chair next to the bed. "I know it sucks here, mostly because things just suck in general, but I have an idea about how to make them at least a bit better."

Nel's weak smile beca wider.

"Of course you would, Tris…"

"That idea needs so help from you, though," Tristan added.

"Anything," Nelson replied imdiately. His weary eyes began fluttering closed. "Anything I can… So not much. Heh."

Tristan's lips pressed together. He hurriedly took a plastic cup of water from the nightstand and brought it to Nelson's lips.

"Hey, hey, don't fall asleep yet. Drink first, or they will have to put another needle into you to make sure you don't dehydrate."

Thankfully, Nelson downed half the cup before the last vestiges of strength left him. When Tristan put the cup back on the nightstand, the young man was in a deep, coma-like sleep again.

Next to them, Derek sighed sadly.

"He's a good friend. I still wish he'd be able to stay awake long enough to hear our plan, Mr. Gello, but then, I also wish he wasn't sick in the first place."

Tristan nodded.

"Let's go to the Head Physician's office? We still need to make them agree to let us do cara shootings here."

"We will probably need Mr. Mayar's signature for that, too, Mr. Gello. It will require waking him up again…"

Tristan shook his head.

"I don't want to put him under any more stress. Just—I've seen that signature often enough, if you get what I an. And he agreed—he won't protest that it wasn't his later."

Derek clicked his tongue with disapproval, but nodded.

The last thing the Head Physician needed was for soone—anyone—to make videos in his hospital, even if the shooting crew was going to be minimal and all the shooting will be contained in a single room.

However, he couldn't resist Tristan's charm and a large enough donation to the hospital.

Later this evening—everything was incredibly rushed, but the situation really demanded it in Tristan's eyes—Tristan was in Nelson's room again.

This ti, Derek was back at his office. Instead, Tristan ca with a caraman.

The caraman was an experienced man who had shot videos of Tristan for public promotions and music videos before. He quickly set up his cara and quickly set up for an angle that showed the hospital room in the best way.

Nelson was asleep through the entire process, unaware that there were people near him at all.

For this mont, Tristan dressed ticulously, casually. He had to really dig into his clothing closet for the things he wore back when he was still buying second-hand.

Tristan wasn't sure if he kept them for sentintal purposes, or because he thought he might need a disguise later.

They fit him better now that his body filled in with muscle. His black shirt strained over Tristan's pecks when he stretched his shoulders. It was a good sight, but not one that felt intentional.

Tristan's entire outfit was as unintentional as it got. Just normal everyday clothing—a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers—that anyone could wear. They had so scuffles on it from wear, but not enough to look ratty.

Tristan also wore no make-up, except for a bit of shadows he used to paint faint fake bags under his eyes.

The resulting image, when put together, was of soone who was too tired to think about how he looked on cara—but who still looked great. Because he just was that handso through his very bones.

Tristan sat in the chair near Nelson's bed, propping his elbows on his knees to show this exhaustion through the posture.

The caraman gave Tristan a thumbs-up.

"Are we starting, Mr. Gello?"

"Yes."

Tristan looked the cara in the eye. A red light was blinking at him, showing that it was recording.

"Hello, everybody. My na is Tristan Gello, and I'm in the hospital room of my friend, Nelson Mayar. I'm sure you had already heard at least so of the nasty things told about us over the Internet… Not to ntion the death threats…"

Tristan shook his head, letting vulnerability, sorrow and pure hurt seep through this simple motion.

If Gospel's impossible skill was writing speeches, then Tristan's was speaking things without words at all!

His words were spoken beautifully and enthralled people to listen just to his voice, but it was how Tristan moved and acted in this mont that really carried the ssage.

Tristan talked on for a little while longer. The speech was mostly written by Derek's PR specialist, who wrote half the posts in Tristan's online dia.

It was a well-written speech. Tristan told how the stress of knowing that untold thousand people in the world were hating him got to Nelson and put him into hospital; that Tristan himself was holding on, but worried for his friend, with whom they got through so much.

"I just want to ask all of you who still consider yourselves our fans. In these dark tis, we need your support more than ever. Please, send us your well wishes and love. Especially to Nelson, who needs it more than ."

Tristan waited for a few more seconds after finishing his speech before snapping his fingers.

"Cut! And also…"

After a brief look around, Tristan found a towel hanging near a small sink in a corner. He took it and passed it to the caraman.

The caraman's eyes were wet with tears, and thick rivulets of them were running down his cheeks. He began crying in the first thirty seconds of the shooting, and it took not a minor part of Tristan's impossible acting skill to not react to this.

"Wipe your face, please."

"I apologize, Mr. Gello," the caraman said with a sniff. "It's just—your speech, it's… I have it all on the cara. A perfect shot, if I may say."

A quick look at the results of the shooting on the cara's tiny digital screen confird the caraman's words.

This was a speech no one could stay unmoved by. Hell, Tristan could just post it without sound, and people would still want to cry watching his act.

'I hope it works. I really hope it works…'