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It was set in another hall of the building, large enough to fit a hundred people and tables with mediocre finger-foods. The only alcohol was champagne, and it wasn\'t enough to smooth the social awkwardness between people.

By Tristan\'s standards, the party was incredibly lame.

Good thing he was here for business.

As soon as Tristan stepped foot in the hall, he was approached by a journalist wielding a notepad and a fake smile. Behind him, a few more people were already making a line of people who wanted to talk with Tristan, all of them pushing Nel away.

"Mr. Gemello! Congratulations on your victory, you certainly deserved it. I\'m Ethan Ramirez, a journalist working for the \'The Weekly Messenger\' newspaper. Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

The journalist didn\'t even have a camera.

\'He must be from a pretty small newspaper. I never heard about it, for a start. But publicity is publicity!\'

Tristan smiled charmingly.

"Of course, Mr. Ramirez. Nel, sorry, I have to feed the sharks, you know," he chuckled, pointing at the journalists.

This brought the attention of some of them to him.

"Oh, we\'d like to talk with Mr. Mayar as well," one of them said. "If you don\'t mind?"

Nel beamed.

"With pleasure! Hell, who DOESN\'T like to talk about themselves, am I right?"

The journalists asked very simple, boring questions. Like \'Where do you come from?\' and \'What inspires your music\'. Tristan answered them with his practiced bad boy charm, while keeping the information about his past to himself.

Eventually, the journalist narrowed his eyes like a predator on the hunt.

"I feel you are evading the questions about your past, Mr. Gemello. Could it be… that you have something to hide?"

Unfazed, Tristan chuckled, put a finger to his lips, and winked playfully.

"What can I say… it\'s a secret."

In the background crowd of people who were not-so-subtly watching the interview from afar, several women sighed dreamily and swooned.

Jane was one of them, although she swooned only internally.

Frustrated with Tristan, but unable to push further, the journalist and his peers left Tristan and Nel to talk with other people.

In their place came different people. They weren\'t sniffing, but their eyes were sharp.

Talent agents and music label agents.

Several of them offered their contacts to Tristan, which he accepted gracefully, but without agreeing on anything yet. He just got a pocketful of business cards.

They tried to cajole Nel into signing a contract, too, and would\'ve been more successful if Tristan didn\'t interfere.

"Nel, don\'t hurry to sign a contract with any of these places," he said, ignoring the frown on the face of the agent who heard Tristan. "These people prey on inexperienced people like you. Sign a contract without preparation, and you will end up working for them for pennies."

"Mr. Gemello, this is slander! Maybe some talent agencies have an unsavory reputation like this, but \'Shining Artist Agency\' treats all their artists fairly."

Tristan carefully studied the man, picking at the slightest signs of lies: the trembling of the man\'s eyelashes, the slight sheen of sweat on his temples, the twitch of his fingers.

He was very skilled in saying that lie.

Tristan half-shrugged and smirked, saying nothing.

Nel looked at him, then at the talent agent.

"Thank you for your offer, mister. It\'s very flattering, but I really should think about everything before I accept anything."

The talent agent could do nothing but nod and give his business card. After he left, Nel turned to Tristan.

"Thank you for the hint, man."

He sighed.

"I was so excited that these people offered me a job—I have to accept it, that\'s why I came to this city in the first place! But I don\'t want to make a mistake in signing a wrong contract. You… you are so savvy in all this, I\'m really lucky to have you helping me. Have you worked with a talent agency before, Tristan?"

"No, but I know people who did. And I heard some stories. Anyway, can you cover for me a bit?"

Tristan gestured at some other people who visibly wanted to talk with him. These people were mostly other contestants, and not someone Tristan was interested in at the moment.

Nel understood what he meant and grinned.

"Sure, man. Have a good time!"

With these words Nel went to intercept anyone who wanted to chat with Tristan, while Tristan himself went to search for Jane.

As expected, she didn\'t go far. If anything, she was pretending to not watch Tristan all that time, while talking with journalists and talent agents herself.

However, when Tristan approached her, she immediately began smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Ms. Greenpawl. Did I imagine it, or were you looking at me just now?"

"Mr. Gemello! Ah… you didn\'t imagine it." Jane faked bashfulness. "It\'s hard to look away from you. To be honest, ever since you helped me on the stairs that morning, I never thanked you properly. If I fell from these stairs… I could\'ve broken a bone, or several!

Besides… I think you are a very intriguing man."

Tristan smiled at her, as if flattered. It looked effortless, but was anything but, because Tristan wanted to smirk evilly instead.

"That was nothing. I could carry you for much longer than a moment, Ms. Greenpawl, you know?" Tristan jokingly flexed his biceps. "But I\'d love to talk with you more. With how many people were staring at you, as if hypnotized, I feel lucky that you find me intriguing."

Jane looked at Tristan from under her eyelashes, hiding the triumph in the depths of her eyes. She was sure that she had him.

Tristan bit the corner of his cheek to not sneer.

"Then we both are lucky… May I call you Tristan? You can call me just Jane, too."

"Alright, Jane." Tristan made a show of looking around. "Oh, I think someone wants to distract me again. The problems of being the first place winner… Want to move somewhere more private?"