World Domination Begins With Getting a System in a Modern World-Chapter 100: Going To UCLA

Leaving Ralph’s place, James leaned back in the driver’s seat of the Gemera, his mind racing faster than the car on the streets of Los Angeles.

He knew exactly what he needed to do next — find a young, hungry female reporter who could detonate the evidence against the McCullens in the biggest, most public way possible.

The goal was simple: humiliate the McCullens so thoroughly that their name would be radioactive. Untouchable and unredeemable.

But knowing what to do was easy. Figuring out how to do it was the hard part.

"Where the hell am I supposed to find someone like that?" James muttered under his breath, steering the Gemera down the boulevard.

Sure, finding female reporters wasn’t difficult. A quick search on LinkedIn or a glance through any digital newsroom would throw up hundreds of names. But finding the right one? The one with the fire — the desperation — that wasn’t so common.

He doesn’t want someone naive, weak-willed or lazy. No. He need someone battle-hardened enough to chase a big story ruthlessly, but still unjaded enough to be hungry for her first major scoop, and using everything in her power to achieve it.

He thought of young female reporters in already established organizations like the New York Times, Los Angeles Chronicle, or even BuzzWorld News — and immediately shook his head.

Reporters working there were already compromised. Controlled. Managed by bureaucratic editors and corporate interests.

Even if one of their juniors somehow took the story, it would never see the light of day. Too risky for their brand, too much pressure from legal departments. And even if it did leak, it would be watered down into oblivion.

James sighed and mentally crossed out that option. He can’t go for those in big names organisations, meaning no reporters from massive media houses.

Another idea flashed in his mind — high-end socialite events, parties where journalists sometimes lingered hoping to spot a scandal. But he immediately dismissed that too.

That wasn’t any better either. The only type of reporters that attend events like that are mostly the veterans, with already established names in the industry.

As for the young ones that attends those events and calls themselves reporters? Those people aren’t real reporters — they are social media influencers and PR puppets, not hard-hitting journalism. They are mostly Instagram influencer girls looking for likes and followers.

"Trying to find a real reporter at a socialite party is like trying to find gold in a garbage dump," James muttered, pressing his foot slightly harder on the accelerator.

It can be said that he was was getting slightly frustrated. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel as he thought harder. He knew that there was definitely another angle to this — just as almost everything in the world.

Minutes rolled by. Traffic lights blinked past, and James felt more of the frustration starting to build inside him.

"Why the hell is this so difficult?" He sighed.

And then — like a spark in a dark room — the idea hit him.

He blinked once, his mind processing it, and then a slow grin began to spread across his face.

"Of course..." he whispered, chuckling under his breath.

Undergraduates. It was there that he can lots of the type of female reporter he’s looking for. Why didn’t he think of them before?

Well, that was because he had made the mistake of thinking and aiming for those in somewhat high places.

He was previously reaching for young professionals who were already half-trapped in corporate cages, but if he had aimed lower, he would find student.

They are perfect choice, as they are right at the cusp of entering the real world, burning with ambition, desperate to prove themselves, and most importantly — still untamed and untainted by the system.

And what better place to find ambitious journalism students than the university he just technically dropped out of than the University of California, Los Angeles?

UCLA, one of the most prestigious institutions on the West Coast — and crawling with ambitious, hungry, ready-to-risk-it-all types.

James’ grin widened as he smoothly changed lanes, directing the Gemera toward Westwood.

"Looks like I’ll be paying my old school a little visit," he said, amused.

And the best part is that he wouldn’t even stand out. He still looked like a young college student — just one who happened to drive a multi-million-dollar supercar. But that innit enough to attract attention, innit?

James chuckled to himself, already imagining the scene. Parking a Koenigsegg Gemera in front of the journalism department would definitely attract some attention.

But it was exactly what he wants — to attract attention. With it, he won’t need to post a flyer or beg for help. And if he play it right, the right girl would find him.

***

About twenty minutes later...

James pulled into the familiar neighborhood of Westwood, the sprawling campus of UCLA looming ahead of him.

Classes had already resumed and the whole place was buzzing. But even on a regular weekday, the place was alive, with students buzzing around with backpacks, coffees, headphones in ears, darting between classes or lounging on the green lawns. And sometimes, even shamelessly making out in the open.

James drove past the administration building, earning more than a few double takes from students as the Gemera’s low purr echoed across the quad. And he smiled casually, pretending not to notice.

The journalism building was where he was headed. Kerckhoff Hall — the beating heart of UCLA’s student publications, budding journalists, and media interns.

James parked a short distance away, near a row of other luxury cars — none of them even close to his Gemera in class, but enough to avoid standing him standing out too much.

Even though at UCLA, it’s actually pretty common to see students with luxury cars or sports cars.

UCLA is located in Westwood, which is right next to Beverly Hills, Bel-Air, and Brentwood — some of the richest areas in Los Angeles.

A lot of UCLA students are from wealthy families, especially international students (China, South Korea, Saudi Arabia, etc.) and kids from old money or celebrity families.

It’s not rare to see things like Mercedes-Benz, BMWs, Audis, Porsche, Range Rover, Maseratis.

But all these cars are usually in the price range of $50,000 to $300,000 at most. A care like the Koenigsegg Gemera is way out of the budget of these kids.

James stepped out,adjusting his jacket casually, and walked towards the building. He could see a lot of people looking at him, some stealing glances, while some being bold enough to look directly at him. A ouple of girls made faces at him but he ignored them.

As he walked into the building, he wonder whether he would see his dorm mates, but he highly doubt that. Those guys are rarely in campus.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee, paper, and determination. James stood still for a moment, observing the whole place.

The hallway was lined with bulletin boards — flyers about open mic nights, study groups, and internships at local news stations.

He saw students clustered around laptops, typing furiously. A group of three girls were arguing about a headline. Another guy was pacing the hallway, muttering quotes into his recorder.

James smiled slightly. This is it. This was the hunting ground. All he needed to do now was figure out how to bait the right person.