Powerful Investment Chapter 27: Press Conference

Chapter 27: Press Conference

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

 

In this world, due to biological factors, Alphas were born as nature’s favorites. No matter the job, if an Alpha applied, they would always have an easier time getting hired. Betas might be considered on a case-by-case basis, but Omegas were usually outright rejected unless it was for simple, repetitive tasks.

After all, Omegas were considered delicate and weak, with inconvenient heat cycles, needing maternity leave and heat leave. Even if an Omega didn’t want maternity leave and insisted on working hard, they could still be rejected thanks to the Omega Protection Act.

In most people’s eyes, an Omega was like a fragile flower meant to be kept at home to have children and do housework—certainly not someone who needed to work.

And yet Alphas also had sensitivity periods, and were entitled to leave for them. Still, this never affected their careers, nor did anyone ever ask them during a press conference how they balanced work and biology.

But for an Omega, they would be asked how they dealt with heats during competitions. Worse still, some shady clickbait media accounts even stirred the pot, claiming Omegas were unfit for any form of competition—after all, all you had to do was throw a heat-triggered Alpha into the competition room, and the Omega would lose.

Cheng Pian was inwardly startled. Upon hearing that question, he instinctively looked toward Ji Jin. Even though he himself was an Alpha, he could easily tell just how offensive the question was. And setting aside the Alpha vs. Omega issue, being asked about something as personal as a heat or sensitivity period was incredibly rude.

Ji Jin’s expression didn’t change when he heard the question, but he did raise an eyebrow slightly and sat up a little straighter.

“Didn’t the league already confirm it?” he said calmly. “I am indeed an Omega.”

The moment Ji Jin confirmed it so openly, the reporters below started whispering among themselves.

“As for heats…” Ji Jin cast a cold glance at the reporter who had just asked the question. His sharp gaze made the young journalist shrink back instinctively.

“I’ve been an Omega for the past three years, just as I am now. Not once have I ever missed a competition.”

“Then why did you hide the fact that you’re an Omega?” another reporter jumped in. “Many fans and esports players online feel deceived. Were you trying to gain professional player status by pretending to be an Alpha?”

That comment crossed the line. Not only Cheng Pian but even Zhao Ze clenched his fists and looked like he wanted to say something on Ji Jin’s behalf.

Yet Ji Jin remained calm, unfazed by the accusation.

“I never hid that I’m an Omega,” Ji Jin said, taking a deep breath. His gaze was firm and fearless. “When I joined IKW, the team knew I was an Omega. My league profile lists me as an Omega. When I joined MOE, they also knew. I’ve never once claimed anywhere—on any platform—that I was an Alpha. So how exactly is that hiding?”

“Are you saying that, just because I’m an Omega, I have to go around telling everyone? Or that I need to introduce myself as an Omega every time I meet someone?” A hint of mockery entered his voice now.

The reporter clearly hadn’t expected such a sharp and bold response. Ji Jin was nothing like the typical soft and pliable Omega stereotype—he was direct and unafraid. The reporter flushed bright red and awkwardly sat down.

Only now did the others realize just how hard it really was to mess with Ji Jin. Even three years ago, he’d been brash but careful during interviews. Now, he was even more formidable.

“Then may I ask about the child who was photographed—are they yours? Can you share who the child’s Alpha father is? Have you been marked or married?”

Another reckless reporter dared to press further.

Ji Jin was mildly surprised by the question, then lifted his head and looked the reporter dead in the eye.

“I believe that falls under personal privacy. I have every right not to disclose that. And if anyone reveals it without my permission, I reserve the right to sue.”

“Then… what about the photo of you hugging Cheng Pian from the MOE team? Won’t your Alpha or child mind? Are you in a relationship with a teammate? Is that why you joined MOE?”

The reporter, frustrated with the lack of answers, got even more outrageous with his questions.

The conference hall fell silent at once. Cheng Pian was stunned by how twisted their thinking was. He almost stood up to confront the reporter, but Zhao Ze quickly pressed him back into his seat.

“I saw the photo,” Ji Jin said coolly. “It was taken during All-Stars. Cheng Pian challenged Gentleman and lost. As a senior, I was simply offering encouragement.”

Though his tone was even, his eyes clearly showed he was getting angry.

“My child and my relationship status are both private matters. And for the record, Cheng Pian is seventeen—a minor. If you continue to make malicious assumptions and slander, you might be receiving a legal notice soon.”

After saying all that, Ji Jin leaned back in his chair and swept a cold gaze across the room. The rest of the reporters didn’t dare speak further—there wasn’t much left to ask anyway.

Ji Jin had been far too upfront and honest. If he’d tried to hide anything, maybe they’d have a story. But since he laid it all out in the open, there was no scandal to feed on.

A few remaining questions about Cheng Pian were blocked by Zhao Ze.

When the conference finally ended, Zhao Ze wiped his back, soaked through with sweat from both the intense questions and Ji Jin’s fearless responses.

Ji Jin stayed seated, waiting for the reporters to leave before getting up. Last night, Lu Yao had temporarily marked him, which helped suppress his heat, but his nape still throbbed with pain.

He couldn’t even imagine how painful a full marking would be. He rubbed at the glands on his neck again—they were already covered with a bandage, swollen into a small bump.

“God Ji… I’m sorry,” Cheng Pian came over quietly, also waiting for the hall to clear. Since seeing Ji Jin with Lu Yao the night before, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. His mind had been a mess, especially after those photos leaked.

Back then, he hadn’t known Ji Jin was an Omega. And yet, he’d hugged him.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know at the time.” Ji Jin knew exactly how well he’d masked it. He’d started suppressing it properly since his differentiation as a teen—always using inhibitors, always wearing suppression bands.

Ironically, it was that heavy and irregular use of inhibitors that led to his accident three years ago. Since then, he’d been even more cautious, never letting even a trace of pheromones escape.

But today was different—Lu Yao’s scent was still mingled with his, and his usual Omega suppression bands weren’t enough to fully hide it.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this—being outed as an Omega, being slandered with baseless speculation. I really am.” Cheng Pian hung his head. He had never experienced anything like this before. Before now, his world had only revolved around school and gaming.

Those questions had been outright cruel and malicious.

“It’s not your fault,” Ji Jin said, shrugging. “The wise see wisdom, the perverse see filth.”

He gave a faint smirk. “No need to punish yourself for others’ ugliness. As long as your own conscience is clear, that’s enough.”

Cheng Pian slowly lifted his head, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

Those slanderous words weren’t directed at him, but just watching and listening made him uncomfortable. Yet Ji Jin, who was actually the target of the gossip, remained so composed, as if it didn’t affect him at all.

Ji Jin patted Cheng Pian on the shoulder, smiled without saying a word, and gestured for him to leave the conference hall.

By then, Zhao Ze had already made the follow-up arrangements. The three of them started walking out together—only to run straight into Jiao Yue, who was waiting just outside.

Judging by the look on his face, Jiao Yue had probably arrived early, but it was unclear how much he had seen or heard.

Cheng Pian was momentarily stunned and didn’t react right away. Instead, it was Zhao Ze who responded quickly and didn’t seem particularly surprised.

Ji Jin glanced sideways at Zhao Ze and could more or less guess that Zhao Ze had been the one to tell Jiao Yue where he was staying. Otherwise, how could a guy from C City have found Lu Yao’s place so easily?

“You two head back to the car first,” Ji Jin said, seeing clearly that Jiao Yue had something to say.

Cheng Pian wanted to say something to persuade Ji Jin not to bother with Jiao Yue—after all, Jiao Yue didn’t even have much of a relationship with MOE—but Zhao Ze pulled him away and dragged him off without a word.

“God Ji was really different today. Sharp-edged and radiant,” Jiao Yue said in a low voice. He had stood outside the entire time during the press conference, watching Ji Jin’s performance from start to finish. To be honest, Ji Jin was nothing like his usual lazy and laid-back self—he had looked especially striking.

Mesmerizing. Captivating.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Ji Jin replied, not bothering to be modest. He had always enjoyed being praised and was never one to pretend otherwise. “But I was just telling the truth.”

“It’s just a shame that the one God Ji likes isn’t me,” Jiao Yue said, his expression dimming.

“Unmarried and already a parent—this Omega has only Ji Xingxing in his heart,” Ji Jin said lightly. He didn’t care whether he hurt Jiao Yue’s feelings or not—when it came to matters of the heart, clarity was essential. Letting things drag on without resolution was the worst outcome. “When are you heading back to C City?”

“I already know God Ji’s answer, so I’ve got no regrets. I’ll go back tomorrow,” Jiao Yue sighed deeply. His words were a clear admission of defeat. “But God Ji… you cut me off so cleanly, like a swift knife through tangled threads. Why are you so soft when it comes to Lu Yao… letting him pursue you like that?”

Jiao Yue’s gaze was clear as he looked directly at Ji Jin.

At that moment, Ji Jin couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—Jiao Yue really was a smart one. He had probably guessed just from seeing Ji Xingxing once or twice.

“It’s because Ji Xingxing’s Alpha father… is Lu Yao… isn’t it?” Jiao Yue’s voice trembled as he spoke, and the hand hidden behind his back shook as well. The first time he had met Ji Xingxing, it had been when Lu Yao was carrying the child. Just from the sight of the two faces—one big, one small—he had already noticed something, but hadn’t dared to believe it.

Ji Jin closed his eyes and nodded.

“Why haven’t you told him…” Jiao Yue asked, confused, but before he could finish the sentence, he saw through the glass window in the hallway that Lu Yao was stomping over, furious, carrying a bottle in his hand.

The way he looked, it was as if the bottle wasn’t just water—but a butcher’s knife.

 

Author’s Note:

God Ji: Everyone in the world can guess Ji Xingxing’s father is Lu Yao—except Lu Yao himself. Did I end up picking a dumb Alpha or what?

 

 

 

 

 

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