Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

It took longer than a day to organize all changes in the King Lion Gang. Even a week of work later, the process had only begun. But Tristan's new rule was already solid.

There were people who disagreed, but the support on the highest level that Tristan had let him quickly silence all those voices with his authority. And a few carefully measured punishments. Those were mostly older people.

Younger gangsters loved to see someone like Tristan at the top—it made them feel like they could reach the same heights as Tristan if they just worked hard. Tristan gladly gave them opportunities for this.

And when Tristan wasn't finalizing his takeover, he was finalizing his rise to stardom.

Which… met unexpected hurdles.

Inevitably, the best parts of the Californian Young Star contest were going to appear on TV. The expected date was a week after the contest's end, but ten days have passed already, and the show's producer was still delaying.

"I will talk with the producing team of the TV show of the contest and ask them what is the problem, Mr. Gemello," Derek said when the topic came up. "I want to see you appear on the TV screen globally as much as you do! And not only because of the publicity it will bring—after all the work you put into this, not being shown on TV would be a crime."

***

Some time later, somewhere in Los Angeles.

A middle-aged plump man was waving his hands and talking loudly, looking like he was about to pull hair from his head.

"This is just not good! Not good at all! Look at this guy. Then look at the other people. Then back at this guy. There's no competition at all!

Who would want to watch it? Viewers come for the spectacle, for the drama, for the victories against all odds—not for some genius to show up and beat everyone!"

"Mr. Harris, but—"

"And even the surprise round isn't as good as we all hoped! Yes, there are some good comically pathetic people, but if we only bully these people too much, people will just start bullying us online! Do YOU want to get cyber-bullied? I certainly don't if it means we will lose the contest's reputation!"

"Mr. Harris, but we still need to release the show! We are already missing the deadlines! We edited all the footage, and we need money from showing it! The organization committee of the contest and the investors are already breathing in our necks about it."

Arguments like these happened on repeat for a fourth day in the row. All the other people in the conference room listened to the argument with bored and tired faces.

The only person who listened intently and heard this all for the first time was Derek Writfield.

Earlier, when he addressed his questions to the producer, Harris, instead of replying, the man invited him to listen to this meeting—which required Derek to make an unplanned trip to LA.

The inconvenience was worth it. The more he listened, the wider his eyes became.

'Is that's what is called "suffering from success"? Gemello… He really was too stunning. Even more stunning than in his first round of the contest. Back then, he had more competition,' Derek thought.

Clearly, the committee had reached a roadblock.

Even Harris, after exhausting all his frustration, just sighed and sat down.

"It's pointless to even buy a spot on a nation-wide channel to run this all."

Several people echoed the sigh.

"Bye-bye, yearly bonus," someone muttered.

Derek sighed, too. This was bad.

His boss wasn't going to be happy, Tristan wasn't going to be happy, and Derek himself wasn't happy with this either.

'There has to be a way to make the show interesting enough to show nation-wide. If they could only show records of Gemello's performance on some music-specializing channels, it would've been the easiest! But…'

After fifteen more minutes, in which Derek didn't come up with anything, Harris called for a break. Derek left the room and went to sit on a couch placed in the building's hallway.

Here, he called Tristan and told him what he found out.

"That's… Damn. What a situation, Mr. Derek. Thank you for telling me."

Derek rubbed his forehead.

"I will do my best to salvage it. From the pure show-centric standpoint, it'd be best for Mr. Harrier to just cut you and Mr. Omen from the show entirely. I'm sure he'd do that, if not for the fact that you took prize places."

Tristan huffed on the other side of the call.

"He should've thought about these things beforehand. Or the organization committee." He paused, but just before Derek was about to ask if he was still here, continued. "That's an interesting idea, though."

Derek blinked.

"You want to be cut out of the show?"

"No! The opposite. Isn't the problem that compared to me and Omen, all the other performances are just a boring waste of air time? Pitch the idea of just cutting them off to the producer, then!"

This was absolutely audacious.

"But Mr. Gemello! What kind of contest is it with only two people? Besides, they need at least an hour of air time, or they won't earn much money from airing the show, anyway. Although…"

Against his initial judgments, cogwheels began turning in Derek's head.

At the other end of the call, Tristan smiled.

"Although?.."

"I think there will be a couple of other decent contestants. And the rest of the space can be filled with documentaries or something. It's—"

Derek cut himself off when he saw people returning from the break walk past him and into the conference room.

"I will suggest this immediately. Please, if you have any more ideas, leave me a message, Mr. Gemello."

"Of course."

Derek ended the call and followed the rest of these people into the conference room.

On the other end of the ended call, Tristan wondered if he could've had done things differently and won the contest without showing off THIS much.

'Nah. Not with Angelo Omen there! Which means… No regrets! Only hoping that Derek is persuasive enough.'

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