You're about to read the 7th, last chapter of 7 part series, "Yellow Kid Murderer." If this is your first visit, check the links:
Yellow Kid Murderer
created by BOZART
[Last scene of the last chapter]
I gave a look of shock.
"The watergate scandal was a symbolic event that demonstrated the rise of journalism."
I couldn't disagree with her words.
"Okay. Let's say that all that you're saying is true."
I continued with a question.
"But what the hell does new journalism have to do with Pulitzer?"
The woman let out a sigh and shook her head.
"The roots of new journalism were the articles of yellow journalism that were written 100 years before."
While I was processing the information, the woman continued.
"And you can't forget that yellow journalism was created by Pulitzer."
I paused for a second to think before my facial expression grew cold and I opened my mouth to speak.
"I get all of this, what you're trying to say. I understand, but it doesn't make sense for you to kill those journalists who write such articles."
The woman stared blankly at me and erupted into laughter.
"I never killed them for the contents of their stories. I'm pretty sure I told you already..."
"I told you. They lied."
Suddenly, anger took over me and I hit the table hard with my fist.
"Are you joking right now? What kind of lie are you talking about?!"
The woman remained calm and answered.
"Think? About what?"
The woman leaned over the table and whispered.
"The world that Pulitzer dreamed of... it's come true."
"Wh-What do you mean?"
"Look at our journalism now."
She raised her voice as if in song and stared up at the ceiling.
"A sensational article to attracts the public attention, an advertisement articles that is slave to the payer, and abuse of the power of the media to cover their ass!
I stared, at a loss for words.
It was true. Everything she had said.
Journalism really HAD evolved to what Pulitzer had hoped.
The woman gave a look of disappointment and disgust.
"And those reporters I met... they did not admit that they were still faithfully carrying out the mission of maintaining Pulitzer's vision of journalism."
The woman paused to observe my reaction before continuing.
"What do you think? Don't you think that's a good enough reason to kill them?"
"Sure. I understand."
I didn't feel the need to listen to what she was saying anymore.
"Let me ask just one question."
The woman nodded.
"Why did you turn yourself in?"
The woman laughed.
"I didn't turn myself in."
I was dumbfounded.
"What? Then why did you walk over here on your own two feet?"
"Because I was curious."
I looked at her with a skeptical expression.
"Wouldn't you be curious if you were me?"
The woman stared straight into my eyes and continued.
"How the prey caught in my trap dies."
My eyes widened.
"Who are you referring to?"
The woman ignored my question and continued.
"What time is it now?"
I looked down at my wristwatch.
A smile crept up on the woman's face.
It was then at that very moment.
Suddenly my eyes began to blur and my whole body felt weak.
No longer able to hold myself up, my body fell forward on the table with a thump.
All I could hear was the woman, who stood up from her chair.
Moments later, I heard footsteps walking closer but I still couldn't move my body no matter how hard I tried.
"How... wh- what is happ-"
I struggled to speak.
"Shh. There, there."
As soon as I heard that voice, chills started running down my spine.
The voice that I had just heard was not the voice of the old woman but instead of a man.
"Don't overdo yourself. The more you move, the faster the effects of the drug will spread."
As my whole body started to seemingly freeze in place, it grew increasingly difficult to speak.
Then I heard the voice again.
"Let me tell you something. You were the easiest..."
I thought to myself.
'What? I was the easiest?'
The man came closer to my ear.
"Mustard has a very strong taste... it's difficult to know if anything else is in it."
My eyes widened and I let out a weak whimpering noise.
"Granted, it did take some time."
The man continued.
"See for the past two weeks, I observed you closely. What restaurant you went to most often in the neighborhood, what you usually ordered on the menu... I learned all of your eating habits."
I wanted to open my mouth and speak but all that would come out was a low moan.
"You're probably wondering how the two hour delay is possible."
The man let out a laugh and continued.
"You swallowed a crystallized poison that's coated by a nano particle that only interacts with the stomach acid."
I blinked slowly.
Almost as if he read my mind, the man responded.
"Don't underestimate the potential of modern technology. I was able to manipulate the time it took to resolve the heterogenous nano particle with multiple layers in the unit of minutes.”
The man let out a laugh.
"Who knew all those years studying at MIT would be paid off in this way?"
I mustered up all the strength I could to speak.
"W- Why me..."
The man responded with ease.
"Why did I kill you when you're not a journalist... that's what you mean, right?"
The man reached over to take my jacket off my limp body.
"I'll be honest. I felt a bit sorry over that aspect, too."
I thought to myself.
'Sorry? What the hell are you talking about?'
"There was nothing else that I could do. You passed my test."
I spoke again, weakly.
He leaned over and whispered closely into my ear.
"Think what I asked you at first, and what was your answer."
Joseph Pulitzer (1847 ~1911)
“If a newspaper is to be of real service to the public, it must have a big circulation... because circulation means advertising, and advertising means money, and money means independence.”
- THE END -
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