Tulip Glasslip here.
It's been a few days since my interview with Pruner. Unfortunately I haven't had the time to properly sit down and transcribe it due to… well, let's just say I've been rather busy.
Before I get into it, a bit more background into what happened leading to the interview. I arrived at the tea house at the accorded time and sat down, waiting to be approached by someone. I was, after a couple minutes, though not exactly by a person.
An Alakazam teleported into the seat in front of me, startling all the customers around us. I stared at him, too stunned to speak or do anything else. Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he put a hand on my shoulder and teleported both of us out of the tea house.
I'll spare you my rather over the top freak-out over the sudden thought that I was about to be murdered. Just know that we both appeared inside a normal looking house, if somewhat messy and dimly lit. We were in a living room, judging by the table in front of me with an empty chair, and the person sitting at the other side of it.
Alakazam calmly walked towards her and stood at her side, taciturn. As my eyes adjusted to the weak light of the room, I could finally make out the woman's appearance. And most importantly, I realized I knew exactly who she was.
She leaned forward to greet me, and I found myself staring at a dead woman.
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[Marie Levy Corenthal could only be described as a sharp woman, in every sense of the word. She carries herself with an air of intensity and professionalism that speaks of her experience as a journalist. She wears a beautifully-tailored black suit which doesn't look like it's been used more than a few times before. Her black, square-shaped glasses frame the bright, green eyes of someone constantly looking for answers.
She's one of the most renowned journalists Kanto has ever known, with three Kinsey prizes under her belt on the categories of Public Service, Commentary and General Non-Fiction. Her qualifications are no less impressive: she's obtained degrees on Pokemon General Studies, Anthropology and Psychology, with a doctorate on Professional Journalism.
Many cover-ups and conspiracies have been brought to light by her, only to be stripped of any kind of embellishment and shown for what they truly are. The last project she ever tackled was that of the Wysteria incident, her biggest challenge so far. Unfortunately, that investigation came to a halt rather quickly.
Five months ago her house was found deserted, with the front door open and its lock torn apart. Neither Marie nor her trusted Alakazam were found and the only thing out of the ordinary were a few splatters of blood on the floor. She's been declared as missing and possibly dead ever since.
She offers me a glass of water, not saying a word. Her Alakazam stands next to her, eyes set on me.
We sit in silence for almost a minute before she speaks.]
I'm sure you must have a lot of questions, miss Tulip. I hope you can start asking them soon.
"S-sorry. I'm not sure where to begin; I'm not usually the one in this position during my interviews."
[Marie forms an actual smile, a gesture that looks strangely out of place on the sharpness of her face.]
I understand; being out of one's element can be scary at first. Case in point; a world-renowned journalist like me being forced to go into hiding and work with what little I have to solve the biggest conspiracy Kanto has ever known. Finding a proper place to begin can be… tricky.
That was a cue for you to pick a first question, by the way. I made sure to give you plenty of options.
[The way she says it, it almost sounds like she's attempting to tell a joke. Unfortunately her grim expression doesn't reflect that well.]
"You kinda answered one of them already. I guess I'm… mostly confused as to what happened, and why did you choose me to come here and meet you."
That's a rather jumbled way to ask a question. A journalist should always keep their head cool and tackle even the strangest of situations with poise and professionalism. I'm guessing you're somewhat of an amateur when it comes to this?
[There's a noticeable pause in the conversation. I raise an eyebrow.]
"I thought I was the one asking questions, miss Corenthal."
Of course; and very smart of you not to reveal personal information to someone you've just met. At least you still have a good sense of self-preservation; an important tool for any journalist to have.
"If that's so, then why are you urging me to pry into your personal life?"
See? That's the kind of questions you should be asking.
Fortunately, I don't have the need to be cautious when it comes to my life anymore, for various reasons. I am safe in here, or as safe as anyone can be from them. You, on the other hand, seem to be in something of a complicated situation. Jumping from hotel to hotel, constantly on the run and with money running low… I can't see you lasting much longer out there.
But that's a matter for later. Now, I'm sure you'd be interested in a few answers, as stale and unrewarding as they might be.
"I would appreciate that."
Well, there isn't much to say, to be honest.
I'm sure you're aware of the last investigation project I took before my supposed disappearance. The Wysteria incident… to be honest it was something I'd always meant to take a look at, ever since I graduated for the first time. Unfortunately, I'd never found the right time for it. It all seemed so daunting a task… I suppose it wasn't until I became the most renowned journalist in Kanto that I realized no one else would do the job for me.
As such, I began investigating with a small team of associates working under me. I took a different route than yours, mostly because I counted with the money and resources not to have to depend on telltale stories whose veracity was flimsy at best. I studied every government record, gathered every drop of solid information about the town and even went as far as to explore the abandoned place myself in search of any solid clue that might point me in the right direction.
"Hold on. You didn't interview any of the ex-citizens of Wysteria? Wouldn't that be the logical place to start?"
That's what every other journalist would've done, yes. But I'm not just any journalist, am I?
First rule of the job, miss Tulip: people lie. Accounts of previous events told by people simply from their memories… well, I count them as third-grade evidence at best. Everyone has an angle or an agenda which prevents the flow of the truth throughout their stories. And falling short of that, our memories of what happened in the past aren't always as accurate as we remember.
I went searching for solid, unmistakable evidence. And in the meantime left my associates the job to contact these people and ask relevant questions whenever they could, though I didn't make it a priority.
"Judging by your current living situation, I'm guessing you've already come to the conclusion that you chose wrongly?"
[She looks startled for a moment, as if my question had more edge than she was expecting.
She lets out a low heh and lowers her hands to the table, fingers interlacing each other. Hex expression softens.]
Maybe you do have it in you, after all.
In any case, I doubt changing my approach towards the case would've helped much. With the resources I had, plus the people working under me, I did manage to get some answers. Not enough to paint the whole picture, but enough to show me the path towards the truth I'd been looking for.
Unfortunately, that's as good as it got. Soon my associates began to… leave, en masse.
"They disappeared?"
No, that would've been way too obvious and it would've alerted the authorities. They made excuses and claimed that they couldn't work anymore in the project for 'personal reasons'. They asked for a paid leave and refused to hear anything I had to say in the matter. Every single one of them abandoned the investigation.
"Do you think they were threatened? Did they ever approach you for those reasons?"
I'm sure they were and no, I was never contacted by anyone suspicious. They must've known how firm my convictions were and that no amount of bribing or threatening would get me to abandon the case.
So, knowing that, they decided to take more drastic measures to ensure my silence.
"You were attacked in your own house. I read the reports."
They were waiting for me to come back from work. Were it not for Alakazam's Future Sight I'm sure my remains would still be under some unmarked grave.
[Without looking at him she raises one hand and places it on Alakazam's shoulder. A smile briefly appears under his mustache.]
I was able to escape, as you can tell, and I've been living like… this, ever since.
[She makes a gesture to encompass the whole room, a sour look on her face.
I find it difficult to feel bad for her, considering the place looks better than any hotel I've ever been in, though I can understand how huge a change it must be for someone as rich as her.]
Thanks to my dear Alakazam and some savviness on my part I've been able to transform this place into the perfect hideout. It is completely un-traceable from any kind of external threat and, as long as I remain here, no one will ever be able to find us.
"Sounds… awfully boring, to be honest."
I still have cable and internet, not to mention the beautiful forest outside. But… yes, it can get rather dull at times. I reckon I would've probably gone mad were it not for Alakazam's company.
Besides, I still have a job to do. I haven't given up on my investigations about the truth behind Wysteria and its mysterious benefactors. Which, coincidentally, brings me to the topic I'd been meaning to discuss ever since you set foot on my home.
"And that would be?"
Your entries.
I've had lots of free time to do my research, miss Tulip, and the last thing I ever expected was for someone else to start from scratch after everything that's happened. Imagine my surprise a couple months ago when I found your first entry. The shock that an absolute nobody was able to secure an interview with one of Wysteria's ex citizens about an event whose history has been muddy at best.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
I dismissed it as a hoax at first. Anyone could sew a tale both entertaining and truthful sounding enough. However, every single detail included in that interview matched perfectly with the scattered clues I had collected over the years regarding the Harvest of '76. Not to mention Monika's fate mere days after you contacted her. I had to accept the fact that you were… well, I hesitate to use the word genuine, but at least somewhat serious about your investigations.
Then came Horace's interview, and with it I became aware of just how amateur this so-called journalist was. I could begrudgingly respect your work in your first entry, but the second? It was just to pointlessly terrible I couldn't help but feel offended.
[She must notice my expression. Something like shame flashes across her eyes for a moment before she clears her throat.]
Not that I mean to imply anything negative about you yourself, Tulip. It's just…
"What was so amateur about my second entry?"
[I try to keep my tone neutral, though it's not hard to notice the venom bubbling underneath my voice. Marie hesitates before answering.]
Honestly… where do I start?
How about beginning the entry with details about your personal life? I don't care what kind of narrative you're trying to construct; the investigation isn't about you. Why would you tell your readers your recent hardships when all you should do is post your findings and call it a day? Do you believe scientists begin their papers by talking about how hard the past week has been?
"My readers deserved to know that…"
After that you decide to put yet another person in danger by describing the entirety of the interview instead of just writing the relevant information down and cutting down all the fat.
Then, after all that, I still can't understand why you'd decide to interview this person at all. It's not like the situation with Monika where she was the only one present during those events. The church chorus incident has been well researched and there are tons of papers and transcripts which describe in detail everything that happened. Absolutely no new information was gained by getting the story from that poor man instead of doing research on your own.
From all this I was able to gather the truth behind your little writing project. What you were after wasn't the truth, but a story. You wished to tell a tale befitting of the horrors of Wysteria and those pulling the strings of the city, turning the truth into a pill easy enough to swallow for most people. After all; government transcripts, long documents, police reports, all those can be quite dull to read. But a story? Now that's a surefire way to get an audience quickly.
The signs were all there. Why else would you present your investigation in such an obviously theatrical manner? Naming each entry after a different kind of wisteria flower, using fancy and mysterious language, creating a fake name for yourself such as Tulip Glasslip… it was so transparently obvious.
You weren't a journalist. You were an entertainer who just happened to weave a bit more truth into her tales than most.
"If you're trying to imply that I'm doing this for my own benefit…"
I didn't say that. Who knows; maybe there is a noble cause behind your methods. Maybe you do care about the truth and you just happen to have a heart for theatrics on top of that. It doesn't matter, it's not relevant to my point.
My point is that your methods are both unprofessional and disrespectful towards those who had to suffer the horrors of Wysteria. You're making light of events that took the lives and sanity of many, and that I find unacceptable.
[I'm unable to respond for some time, not knowing how to. Silence spreads through the room, making it appear emptier than it is.]
"I just wanted to tell the stories behind the truth. I wanted to give a voice to those who suffered because of… them. An opportunity to get that awful truth out of their chests and… I don't know. Feel like they did something about it, even if it was just… talking to me. After I lost…"
[I stop myself, knowing that I'm about to say far more than it is prudent. A few more seconds pass in silence, until Marie speaks once more.
Her voice lacks the anger it previously held.]
I believe that your intentions aren't wicked, and I apologize if I went a little too far just now. It's just that journalism and the search for the truth is a topic I'm extremely passionate about. A topic that, perhaps, tends to let out the worst of me when I see someone not uphold the same ideals I have.
After I read that second entry of yours… I'm not proud to admit that I acted rather childish and gave in to my own pettiness. I created the account of Pruner and wrote a few mysterious messages in your website, using a program to make it look as if they'd been written from the same places you were staying in. As cautious as you may be, Tulip, you aren't that hard to find for someone who knows what they're doing.
[A smile manages to find its way to my lips.]
"Those messages were painful to sit through. You really need to work on your poetry."
[She smiles as well, even going so far as to letting out a short laugh.]
That's never been my strong suit, though I did the best I could with the material I had. I took inspiration from many… let's say frauds like the ones I believed you were emulating, and left intentionally cryptic and nonsensical messages for you to scratch your head over. I was pleasantly surprised to read that you didn't waste your time with them, when doing so might've helped you grow your audience. That was my first clue that you might not be as much of a fraud as I thought.
"…Thank you? Uh, don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying this talk, but if your whole reason to invite me over was to lecture me on journalism ethics…"
As hilarious as that would be, I'm not finished yet.
When you uploaded your third entry, I decided to take a look at it more out of boredom and wounded pride than anything else. I couldn't have been more shocked as I read the beginning of the interview.
Kate… that insufferable little brat. I could not believe my eyes; someone had really gotten her to talk?
"I'm assuming you two know each other?"
In a way. Much like Monika, she was a sole survivor of one of the many tragedies that took place near the town. If I wanted to learn the truth, or the closest thing to it, I knew I'd have to schedule an interview with her. It… didn't go well.
At first she refused to even talk to my colleagues. Something about being sick of questions and inquisitive people. Then, after I leveraged in a rather generous amount of money in exchange for her time, she agreed. However she set forth the condition that she'd only talk to the one in charge of the investigation. I've never the greatest of interviewers, but I didn't seem to have many other options, so I accepted.
I don't think it'd be exaggeration to call it a disaster. From the moment I set foot on her home it became clear our personalities didn't mash well at all. She was rather defensive towards every question I asked and interruption I made, and I might've been just a bit too tactless when it came to approaching her story.
In the end she told me to go fuck myself, threw the money in my face and yelled at me to get out of her house. I haven't tried to contact her since; I simply gave up on that particular story.
[It takes a monumental effort not to start laughing. Still, I believe she notices the way my lips curl upwards slightly.]
"So… you're saying that you missed out on possible evidence because of your bad attitude and lack of empathy? And that I, an amateur journalist as you just called me, managed to secure and document it because I treated my interviewees like human beings with emotions and struggles of their own? Is that what I'm hearing?"
Don't stroke your ego that much; you might end up blind. Being able to empathize and deal with teenagers is a talent, but nothing to be proud of.
Still, I couldn't help but be impressed. On top of getting what I assume is the whole story, this one just happened to have new details about a certain part of Wysteria I've pooled much of my investigation towards.
"You mean the tunnels."
Tunnel, singular, but yes. It's one of the first things I ever discovered that no one else had, and to this day it remains one of the biggest mysteries concerning the town. To think you'd stumble into information about one of its entrances on accident… well, you can understand how that would've made me slightly bitter.
I didn't believe you would actually go through with your trek to those hills, especially after learning how dangerous they were. Still believing you to be a hack, I decided to have some fun and wrote a few more spooky comments for when you got back. Thing is… you didn't, not for a while at least.
You won't hate me for admitting I didn't believe your story at first, will you? Localized amnesia… sure, there are certain Pokemon capable of such a thing, but I simply thought it a lie you constructed so you wouldn't have to put yourself in danger. Until I read your transcript of the diary, that is.
[I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment. This is getting rather old.]
"Not to derail the interview, but is this just going to be a transcript of your reactions to my work and how you went back and forth from hating me to loving me to hating me again like the tsundere you clearly are?"
[Again she reels back, seemingly shocked by my nerve. I smile; she's the one who asked for it.]
What's… a tsundere?
[The smile drops.]
"…Never mind. You were saying?"
Right… I apologize if I've been rather longwinded with my explanation. I simply wanted to express my views on your style of journalism and how I went from thinking you were a fraud to… reluctantly respecting you, I suppose. Especially concerning your last entry; would it be stepping out of line to ask if I could take a look at that video sometime? I'm not very good at realizing when my questions or requests are insensitive, you see.
"It's fine. I have the file in my computer; you can take a look at it later. I just want to know the reason why you called me here."
Of course. As I was saying; with every entry I became more aware of something that piqued my interest regarding your talents. You were, to put it lightly, determined to the point of short-sightedness. Normally this would be a fatal flaw for someone on our line of work, but still you continued to get answers and results despite your apparent lack of experience.
It became clear that, as much of an amateur as you might be, you were also potentially useful to me.
"…Useful?"
It's the real reason I arranged this meeting. There's one question I'd like to ask you, before you consider standing up from that chair and leaving.
Tulip, would you like to work with me?
[A few seconds pass in silence. It becomes rather hard to find my own voice for a while.]
"You want me to… work for you? As a journalist?"
With me, not for me. After my recent failures and your growing list of successes… I doubt I'm in the position to look down at you.
But yes, I would like us to become partners. I could use someone with your charisma and apparent disregard for their own safety when in pursuit of the truth. I've… become rather ill recently, my lungs don't work as well as they once did and I'm in no state to roam the region looking for answers. With you at my side, I might be able to gather information previously unavailable for me.
"You'd accept to be partners just to send me towards danger like some kind of errand girl?"
I'd have you do the things you were already planning on doing. The key difference is that you'd be getting paid for it.
"Just being here with you is already putting both of us in danger. To keep in contact with you… I don't think any amount of money is worth that much risk to myself."
By pay I didn't mean just money, you know. You'd be more than welcome to call this place your home; I have way too many empty rooms anyway. You'd be safe and guarded whenever you're not out there looking for the truth. I could also teach you the things I discovered; all that precious information about them you've been looking for. All of that would be yours if you simply accept.
We might be able to find the truth if we work together, Tulip. Don't you think that's worth it?
[I tap my pencil against my notebook erratically, a strange heat rising from my chest.]
"…Why me, though? Even if we're investigating the same thing, why couldn't you hire someone else, someone who didn't know about Wysteria and have them do your dirty work? It'd be a lot safer for both of us. You do know I'm uploading this interview as soon as we're done, right? How will the world react to knowing that you're still alive? How will… they, react?"
[A satisfied smile stretches across Marie's lips.]
Tell me, how many readers do you have?
"…What?"
Your audience. In average how many people would you say read every entry you post?
"Around forty, I guess? And at least a few usual commenters."
There you have it. Do you really think anyone outside your audience will believe what you're writing? That maybe the local news anchors will pay attention to an apparent conspiracy nutjob's blog and believe her word that she knows where the famous Marie Corenthal is hiding?
The only ones who will buy this story are your readers and… well, them. But then again they are already aware of us, aren't they? Posting this little interview won't make much difference in the grand scheme of things.
And to answer your remaining question, about your employment… I wouldn't be comfortable hiring anyone who is not ready to die for the truth, like I am. You're the only person I know who qualifies, so I will ask you this one more time.
Do you want to work with me?
[This time I don't need to think about it for long.]
"Fine, but with one condition."
[She raises an eyebrow, amused, and smiles as she lets her cheek rest on her palm. The gesture looks out of place coming from her.]
Do tell.
"I won't change the format of my investigation, nor the way I write my entries. I understand your point of view, but I disagree in that I'm being disrespectful towards those I interview. They deserve their voices to be heard, not just their stories."
Well, if that's what it takes. In exchange for accepting that though, I'd like to ask you two questions.
"What is it?"
First; what is your history with Wysteria? I know someone determined when I see them, but I don't think what compels you to seek the truth is the truth itself, like with me.
[I freeze for a moment, feeling as if the room has grown colder.]
"They took something from me. That's all I can say; sorry."
[She nods absentmindedly, as if she was already expecting that kind of answer.]
My second question is… what should I call you? You don't need to use that ridiculous pen name anymore; you'll be safe here from now on. It won't matter if people know who you are.
"I… think I'd rather stick with Tulip. I've grown to like it, and it's not like I have a use for my old name anymore."
Well… if you insist.
[She pushes herself of the table and extends an arm towards me, expecting me to shake her hand.
I can't help but smile. Letting my pen and notebook rest on top of the table I stand up and shake her hand. It's firm and callused, just as I expected from someone like her.]
Welcome to the team, miss Tulip. It's a pleasure.
"The pleasure is mine, miss Corenthal."
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I've been living in Marie's home for a few days now.
It's been… nice, so to speak, though not as relaxing as I expected. For a woman her age she has way more energy than I would've guessed, and as such we usually stay until late hours of the night exchanging the information we've been able to gather and discussing theories and what to do next. I've barely gotten a wink of sleep lately.
Still, it's nice to feel like I'm making progress again. Marie might be able to open doors previously locked for me. The truth feels closer than ever, or so I think.
I might go silent for a while. We need to be careful and plan the next steps of our investigation. Until then, I must say goodbye.
I'll come back with a new entry whenever I can. Thank you all for sticking with me.
Tulip Glasslip.