Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 2 - Part 8

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It was close to 3 a.m. when Al finally returned to the apartment. Seeing the lights on, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Akira was lounging on the sofa, reading a book, his usual spot. When Al entered, Akira glanced up at the clock and muttered, “You’re late,” before sitting up on the sofa.

"Someone died at the studio."

"I heard from Sakeiri. The lead actress passed away, right? They’re not sure if it was suicide or an accident, but I heard Nukariya was there too."

“She was murdered. I know the killer.”

Akira let out a small "What?"

“I don’t have proof... but I could smell it.”

Akira scratched his head and sighed. “You talked to Nukariya, then?”

“Yeah, he’s looking for evidence.”

“I see...” Akira exhaled. “For now, take a bath and get some sleep. I’m heading to bed.”

Akira placed his book on the table and stood up.

"Were you worried about me?"

"Not really," Akira answered curtly as he got into bed. Al followed him.

"You called Sakeiri."

Akira turned over, facing the wall without answering.

“Answer me,” Al pleaded.

Despite Al’s plea, Akira remained silent. Al sat on the floor beside the bed, leaning his head against the mattress. He stared at the back of Akira’s head, listening carefully to his breathing.

“How long do you plan on staying there?” Akira asked, still facing the wall.’

"Is it bad if I stay here?"

"Your bed is the couch, remember? It’s late, and I can’t sleep with someone hovering around me."

“I saw a dead person today. I feel really lonely.”

"You see dead bodies all the time at the Center."

"I touched Yuuka."

It wasn’t just the touch that affected him. He realized something. Even though he genuinely felt sorry for Yuuka, he was disappointed in himself for craving her blood. He was utterly disgusted by the instinct that nearly made him lose control. Even when he prays sincerely and is thankful, when the situation becomes desperate, his base instincts take over. He wanted to believe he wasn’t this kind of person, but he couldn’t deny his current self. What exists cannot simply be wished away.

Akira shifted and turned to face Al.

"By the way, Sakeiri said the actress who died fell... or rather, she was pushed from a high place."

"Half her face was crushed, her arms and legs twisted."

“No wonder you’re shaken. Seeing someone you know like that... it messes with your head.”

“I... wanted her blood.”

He knew he shouldn’t be saying this, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“I felt sorry for her... but I wanted her blood.”

"It’s been seven days since you last drank. You’re probably hungry by now, so it’s not surprising."

Al was shocked at how easily his desperate confession was brushed aside.

"I think I’m a bad person."

"Maybe you are, but it’s normal to get hungry. When you’re hungry, you lose control. You didn’t try to drink her blood in front of others, did you?"

"Mitani stopped me."

If he had licked the blood in front of people, it would’ve caused a major commotion, and he would’ve been horrified at himself.

"It’s good you didn’t go through with it. Even if you lose control, licking the blood of someone you know who just died would be something you’d never get over."

His heart, which shouldn’t be beating anymore, felt a jolt like an electric shock. The reality that he couldn’t live without blood. Even though he understood it was unavoidable, there was still a lingering resentment deep in his heart. No matter how much he was grateful, prayed, or helped prepare a body for burial, that resentment never faded. It was painful to think about, so he tried not to. But today, with Yuuka’s death, it became clear. No matter how much he tried to cover it up, he was a failure. When pushed to the brink, he lost all control.

Akira didn’t deny who he was. He said it couldn’t be helped that Al could only drink blood, that he got hungry, and that he lost control. He understood that Al hated himself for it.

“Why are you crying?” Akira asked, sounding confused. Al was overwhelmed, tears slipping down his cheeks. The feeling of being understood, of being accepted, moved him in a way that Akira likely couldn’t comprehend.

"Were you that sad?"

Instead of replying, Al reached out and touched Akira’s cheek. It wasn’t like Yuuka’s—there was the warmth of a living human being. Overwhelmed with both joy and sadness, Al leaned over the bed. He cradled Akira’s head and gave him a goodnight kiss, one that felt like it carried a hundred days’ worth of affection. Even as he calmed down, Al didn’t want to let go of Akira’s head.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Al whispered in Akira’s ear.

“I feel lonely... can I sleep in the same bed?”

Akira didn’t say "yes," but instead, he shifted toward the wall, making space. Al was so overjoyed that he practically jumped into bed. He snuggled up against Akira’s back, pressing his nose against the warm nape of his neck.

He didn’t want to go anywhere else anymore. Even if he saved enough money to live on his own, he wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay by Akira’s side forever. Even if Akira called him an idiot or a fool, even if he hit him, he wanted to stay by his side. No matter how rough or foul-mouthed Akira could be… he was kind, and that’s why Al wanted to stay with him.

Akira had said he didn’t need love or a lover. Al had wondered why Akira would say something so sad, but now he didn’t care. If Akira didn’t need love or a lover, then he’d always be alone, and he wouldn’t mind Al being around.

While thinking about these things, Al suddenly remembered. He wouldn’t die. Even though he was an incomplete vampire, he could heal from injuries and wouldn’t age. But Akira was human. Year after year, he would age, and one day, he would die. He wasn’t a vampire; he was human. When Akira died, Al would be alone again, left behind all by himself…

“If you stay with me, you’re going to cry in the end,” Akira said softly, almost as if reading Al’s thoughts.

Even though Al tried to hold back his sobs, his sniffles gave him away.

“How long do you think you’ll live?” Al whispered, more to himself than to Akira. The thought scared him.

“How should I know?” Akira’s response was brusque, just as Al had expected.

“I wanted to live a normal life... and die a normal death.”

Then, after a brief pause, Al added, “But I still wanted to meet you, Akira, even if I had to become a vampire.”

Al closed his eyes and imagined what it would have been like if he had never become a vampire—if he had graduated college, become an actor, and come to Japan to meet Akira. They would have aged together, growing old side by side. But now, that future was impossible.

"Eternal life has been a dream of humans since ancient times," Akira muttered, almost to himself. Not long after, Al heard the sound of Akira’s breathing change, becoming slow and steady—he had fallen asleep.

As Al inhaled the warm scent of Akira’s neck, he wondered if he could make Akira like him. If he drained enough blood, could Akira become a vampire too? But just the thought of Akira going through the same suffering made Al’s stomach twist. He couldn’t bear to see Akira trapped in the same misery, and besides, he knew Akira would never forgive him.

Al buried his face deeper into the warmth of Akira’s neck, holding him tighter. He couldn’t let that happen. Even if he longed to stay with Akira forever, it was better this way—better for Akira to live his human life.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The news of Yuuka’s fatal fall was widely covered the day after the incident. The cause of the fall was unknown, and the police issued a statement that the investigation was ongoing. Most of the media speculated it was a suicide. This was largely due to the revelation that Yuuka had been pregnant. Testimonies also surfaced about Yuuka dating a man old enough to be her father. A narrative quickly formed: an illicit affair, an unplanned pregnancy, and a breakup that led to her despair and suicide.

The filming of BLOOD GIRL Mahiro was halted after the eighth episode out of ten had been completed. The day after the incident, Sakeiri contacted Al to inform him that the drama’s broadcast had been canceled. Even Sakeiri, usually so carefree, spoke in a heavy tone as he explained the situation to Al.

Two days after the incident, a little after 3 PM, an urgent embalming request came in. Akira received the call from Matsumura and accepted the job, but he had already told Muroi from the start, "I’m handling this one alone."

“Is it because it’ll run late? If that’s the case, let me at least help during working hours,” Muroi insisted, but Akira firmly refused, citing “personal reasons.” He entered the prep room alone, just after 4 PM.

At 6:30 PM, Al, who had transformed back from a bat to a human in the locker room restroom, got dressed and headed to the entrance. He punched his time card at the reception, pretending to have just arrived for work, then returned to the locker room to change into his cleaning clothes. He peeked into the break room, but Akira wasn’t there; he was still working on the body. Al couldn’t start cleaning until Akira was done, but he had time, and wondered if there was anything he could help with. When he peeked into the CDC room, Akira’s stern voice called out from the back of the prep room, “Don’t come in.” Al froze in place, startled. Soon after, the door between the prep room and the CDC room slid open with a whir, and Akira emerged.

“The body I’m working on is someone you know.”

That one sentence was enough for Al to understand. Tsuno had also asked if he could watch the restoration but had been sent home by Akira.

“Yuuka?”

“Yeah. There was an autopsy, and not just her face, but her arms and legs need restoration too. It’ll take another three or four hours.”

Al remembered Yuuka’s last moments—the crushed face, the twisted limbs, her body still warm despite being dead.

“I... I help.”

Akira frowned visibly.

“No.”

“I... want do something... for Yuuka.”

“Don’t. You cried all day that day. I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but it’s hard to see someone you know in that state.”

“I cry, still... want do something.”

Akira clenched his jaw and, after a moment, spat out, “Suit yourself,” before returning to the prep room. Al, more tense than usual, stepped into the workspace.

Yuuka’s body had already been fully washed and embalmed. Her legs were now straightened, but her right arm was still twisted, and half her head was missing. Akira continued his work with his usual calm demeanor. As he started to repair the twisted right arm and moved on to her head, he glanced at Al once, but said nothing.

Even though Al had said he wanted to help, he found there was nothing he could do. The damage to Yuuka’s body was too severe, making even a simple massage impossible. He could only stand and watch as Akira silently performed the restoration.

As the missing parts of Yuuka’s body were gradually reconstructed, Al began to feel relieved. The lost pieces were being brought back by Akira’s hands. The slightly mischievous, beautiful Yuuka was returning.

“Yuuka… like pink,” Al told Akira as he was applying makeup. Akira painted her lips a deep pink. The light blush he added brought a healthy color to her cheeks. The dress prepared for her was a light beige one-piece, which suited Yuuka perfectly.

After finishing her makeup and dressing her, they moved Yuuka to the coffin. She looked remarkably beautiful. The traces of the fall that had led to her death had vanished, and Yuuka now appeared to be peacefully smiling, as if she could wake up any moment and say, “Kane, your taste is awful,” with her usual sharp tongue.

Al gently touched Yuuka’s cheek. It was cold, the softness of human skin gone, but still, she was beautiful.

“Yuuka... glad... come to Akira.”

I’m glad she was made beautiful again. I’m glad her face was restored. As Al felt the joy, tears welled up, and he began to sniffle. Akira handed him a box of tissues.

Yuuka’s body was taken away less than thirty minutes after the procedure was finished. Matsumura told Al that there would be a memorial service for her fans the next day.

Al cried as he watched the car carrying her coffin drive away. He kept crying while cleaning the prep room, and by the time he finished, his eyes were swollen. Even after returning home, he sat on the couch, lost in thought. The sound of the door opening snapped him out of it, and he turned to see that he was alone in the room. Akira must have gone out, so Al hurried after him.

In the hallway of the apartment, he saw a familiar figure ahead of him. Akira had noticed Al following and stopped to wait.

“Where... you go?”

“I’m going to buy a bento.”

Al suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to make dinner.

“I... make food.”

But Akira declined, saying, “I’m too hungry to wait,” and started walking briskly. Al initially returned to the apartment but was overwhelmed by loneliness, so he grabbed his keys and went after Akira. When he caught up and walked beside him, Akira asked in surprise, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t... want... alone... in room.”

Akira didn’t tell him to go back. They walked side by side, slowly. Akira even passed by the nearest convenience store.

“Don’t you... need... go in here?”

“I don’t like the bento from this place.”

Akira was heading to another convenience store across the bridge.

"Thank... you, Akira."

As they walked along the river, Al quietly expressed his gratitude. "For what?" Akira asked.

Yuuka... beautiful."

“…It’s my job.”

"Even... if job... thank you. Yuuka... happy."

Akira fell silent, his pace quickening a bit.

"Hold... hands... okay?"

"No."

"I... lonely... hold hands... okay?"

Akira didn’t reply. Unsure if it was okay or not, Al reached out and gently took Akira’s right hand. Akira trembled slightly but didn’t pull away.

Akira’s hand was warm. Just holding it made Al’s heart feel warmer too. Even when dark thoughts started to creep in, as long as Akira was beside him, he felt better. When Al squeezed his hand a bit tighter, their pace picked up.

“Akira... kind..”

The moment Al said that, Akira shook off his hand and walked even faster.

“Wait, wait!”

Al hurried to catch up, not wanting to be left behind.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The drama BLOOD GIRL Mahiro had initially been canceled, but as soon as the cancellation was announced, the TV station was flooded with emails and phone calls from people saying they wanted to see "Yuuka's last drama." Social media was also buzzing with demands for the show to air. The response was so overwhelming that the station held multiple discussions on whether to broadcast it or not, though a decision was hard to reach, according to Sakeiri.

The scandals of infidelity and the resulting pregnancy were not confirmed, and the true cause of Yuuka's death remained uncertain. Nevertheless, a memorial program for Yuuka was aired. Interviews with her family and agency were conducted, revealing how deeply Yuuka was attached to the drama. Although she was serious about her role, she maintained a cool attitude towards the quality of the work itself. This evoked public sympathy and a favorable reception.

The TV station, emphasizing the "memorial" aspect, received the family's approval and decided to broadcast BLOOD GIRL Mahiro. An emergency audition was held to find a replacement for Yuuka for the final two episodes that couldn't be filmed. This move sparked even more interest, and despite being aired in a late-night slot, BLOOD GIRL Mahiro achieved phenomenal ratings.

Regarding Yuuka's death, there were oddities, like her falling backward down an emergency stairwell, which seemed unnatural. It was discovered that she had been prescribed sleeping pills due to insomnia, which supported the theory of an impulsive suicide.

Yuuka’s manager, Ando, was suspicious in several ways, but as Nukariya said, there was no motive or definitive evidence. Ando had diligently cared for Yuuka, who was known to be difficult and temperamental, something even her agency confirmed.

Nukariya insisted it was murder and struggled alone to prove it, but higher-ups seemed inclined to conclude it was a suicide, making the investigation challenging.

Al was naturally called back for the filming of the remaining two episodes, now featuring a new Mahiro. Akira was reluctant, wondering, "Are they really going to continue?" But Al was determined to see his role through to the end.

On the day filming resumed, a moment of silence was held in the studio to pray for Yuuka's soul. Ando was also present, holding Yuuka’s portrait and sitting tiredly in a corner of the studio. After the prayer, Ando stayed behind and asked, "May I show Yuuka the filming?" to which Sakeiri quickly replied, "Of course." A reporter captured this scene with a camera, and Mitani, observing from the side, muttered sarcastically, "This will probably be in tomorrow's news pages."

"It's great that the drama is getting attention, but the impact of Yuuka's death is so significant that it's complicated," Mitani admitted, revealing his true feelings.

"I... want people... see... beautiful Yuka... a lot," Al said.

“You’re kind, Kane-san,” someone commented. But Al didn’t see himself as kind—if anything, he thought he was just a coward.

Every time Al caught sight of Ando sitting in the corner, he wondered why Ando had killed Yuuka. Meanwhile, Ando’s piercing gaze was directed at Al, and it made him feel uneasy.

Yuuka’s replacement was an inexperienced high school girl who was very nervous, repeatedly messing up her lines and making frequent mistakes. As expected, the filming started to fall behind schedule. The atmosphere in the studio grew tense due to the constant mistakes, and sensing this, Sakeiri raised his hand and called for a "fifteen-minute break."

Al left the studio and headed to the waiting room. Although he usually wouldn’t return to the waiting room during a short break, Ando’s unnerving gaze made him uncomfortable. Mitani followed him. Al sat down on the tatami-covered floor and let out a deep sigh. Mitani straddled a chair opposite him, sitting backward.

"Kane, are you tired?"

"I'm fine."

"But you don’t seem so energetic. Well, today’s shoot is kind of exhausting anyway," Mitani remarked, referring to the newbie’s constant mistakes.

"Stand-in... trying hard... a lot."

"Yeah, she's a first-timer, so it's understandable that she'd make mistakes. But also, I think having Ando here is adding to the pressure."

Al’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected mention of Ando’s name.

"Maybe it's just me, but don't you think Ando’s been watching you the whole time? Her eyes are kind of scary," Mitani added.

"...Maybe... imagination,"

"Is it?" Mitani said, shifting restlessly on his chair.

"Ando was reportedly interrogated for quite a while before Yuuka’s death was almost confirmed as a suicide. I guess it's natural for people close to her to be suspected first. In my case, my manager was worried that my love of horror would make me a suspect, but it ended quickly with no follow-up," Mitani glanced around the room, although no one else was there.

"Since it's you, Kane, I'll tell you—I still think Yuuka was murdered."

Al swallowed hard and asked, "Why?"

"The day before Yuuka died, we were on another show together. You know how she had strong likes and dislikes? Even though we worked on a drama together, I hardly ever talked to her. But on that show, we discovered we were both fans of Elena Neese, and we got excited talking about her upcoming visit to Japan."

Elena was a hugely popular singer-songwriter in the United States, especially among those in their twenties. Her slightly husky voice was said to be addictive, but Al wasn’t familiar with her. She had probably debuted after Al became a vampire. Since then, he had distanced himself from trends and fashion.

"Yuuka bragged about securing an arena seat. Later, we talked about food, and I mentioned that the gateau chocolat at the 'Popolka' café in Roppongi was delicious. She said, 'I'll have Ando buy it for me tomorrow.'"

Mitani rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"It might be impulsive, but I just can't connect the dots between someone who was excited about a concert and good food and suicide. And I think Yuuka was stronger than she looked, despite her cute appearance."

There were quite a few people who suspected that Yuuka’s death was murder. Al felt a sense of relief, as if he had found a kindred spirit.

After letting out a small breath, Mitani stared directly into Al's eyes. 

“Kane-san, do you believe in ghosts?” 

A chill ran down Al's spine. 

"I... not see... ghost," he replied. 

“It’s not about whether you see them or not—it’s about whether you believe in them,” Mitani’s eyes were intense, almost frightening. Al, feeling cornered, replied vaguely, “I... believe... a little.” 

“This is something I heard from Machida-san…” Machida was a hair and makeup artist who had once confessed to having a big crush on Akira. He was also responsible for Al’s heavily done makeup. 

“Yuuka’s makeup was done by a woman named Inohara, and Machida’s pretty close with her. Apparently, after Yuuka died, Inohara heard Yuuka’s phone ringtone several times.” 

Al shivered all over. 

“Yuuka’s ringtone was a minor track by Elena Neese. She used to get calls a lot during makeup sessions, so Inohara remembered it. She said she heard it coming from around the parking lot where Yuuka fell to her death.” 

Mitani spoke quietly, almost nonchalantly. 

“Kane, is this the first time you’ve heard this?” 

Al, trembling, nodded. 

“It’s a bit of a rumor among the makeup artists and staff. Some think Yuuka’s spirit is trying to communicate by making her phone ring…” 

There was a knock at the door, and Al jumped with a yelp. 

“Sorry to disturb you during your break. Mitani-san, the director is calling for you. Could you come to the studio immediately?” 

It was a strange, muffled voice. Mitani quickly replied, “Ah, got it.” 

“Why’d they come to get me? I told them I’d be in the dressing room, so they could’ve just called on the intercom,” Mitani said, tilting his head in confusion. “See you later,” he said as he left the room. 

Left alone, the story about Yuuka's ringtone swirled in Al’s mind, making him incredibly scared. What if he heard that ringtone too? He didn’t know Elena’s songs, so he wouldn’t recognize it, but… if he didn’t know, then maybe he’d be fine.

As he decided to return to the studio and opened the door, he heard a woman’s voice exclaim, “Oh!” Startled, Al stepped back. 

Standing in front of him was Ando, Yuuka’s manager—the very reason Al had left the studio in the first place.

"Sorry... suddenly open door... didn’t hit you?" Al apologized. 

Ando gave a strained smile. “I’m fine. I was just spacing out.” 

“Good... then see you.” 

Al bowed slightly and slipped past Ando.

“Kane-san,” 

Ando called out, making Al turn around. 

“You... need something?” 

Ando was looking at him—not glaring as he did in the studio, but with a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It was unsettling.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Could I have a moment of your time?” 

"I... have... scene soon..."

Al tried to politely refuse, but Ando smiled again. 

“The actress playing Yuuka’s replacement isn’t feeling well, so they’ve extended the break by fifteen minutes. It won’t take long, I promise.” 

“This way,” Ando said as she started walking. With the break extended and no other excuse, Al had no choice but to follow. He felt a surge of fear at the thought that Ando might be involved in Yuuka’s death and was keeping it a secret. The idea that someone who had taken part in murder could stand among everyone else without anyone knowing was terrifying.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Ando opened the door to the emergency exit, leading to the outdoor stairs. The building was large, so the stairs were wide enough to accommodate a large number of people in a short time. The landing was spacious enough for an adult to lie down, or at least close to that. 

Outside, the wind blew gently, causing Ando’s stray hairs to flutter in the dim light of the bulb. Yuuka had fallen from the third floor, just one level above. Why had Ando brought him to such a place?

“Can we talk on the landing? I couldn’t think of anywhere else where we wouldn’t be disturbed.” 

It was true they were unlikely to be disturbed, but why choose such an ominous place? 

“What... you want... talk?” Al asked warily, his tone stiff. He didn’t want to go out to the landing or be alone with Ando. Ando avoided Al’s glaring gaze, looking down slightly.

“There’s something I need to confess to you,” Ando said, her voice trembling. 

“But I don’t want anyone else to hear…” 

Could Ando be about to confess to killing Yuuka? If so, it made sense that she would want to talk in a place where no one would overhear. Al didn’t know why Ando would choose him to confess to, but if she was ready to repent and turn herself in, Al wanted to help.

Reluctantly, Al stepped out onto the landing and closed the door behind him. As soon as they were alone, Ando began to speak.

“At the funeral, when I saw Yuuka’s face, I felt like my heart would stop. She looked like she was just sleeping, like she could wake up at any moment.” 

Ando leaned against the metal railing. 

“The mortician supervising the drama handled her body. The agency’s president told me. It’s your roommate, right? I read the original story of the drama, so I knew about the embalmer’s work, but seeing it in person was something else. I never imagined that her crushed, disfigured face could be restored like that.” 

Ando’s words trailed off, and she let out a short laugh. 

“…She didn’t need to be made that beautiful. She could’ve stayed crushed.” 

There was a clear malice in Ando’s words that made Al frown.

“Kane-san, do you think I killed Yuuka?” 

Ando’s tone was calm and gentle. 

“I want to clear up any misunderstandings. Yuuka committed suicide. She had an affair with a married man, and when he dumped her, she became emotionally unstable and impulsively jumped.” 

Al shook his head fiercely. 

“The police also concluded it was suicide.” 

“But... that’s not true,” Al protested. 

Ando stared intently at him. 

“…Or did you see something, Kane-san?” 

Al took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

“I… I didn’t see... but... turn yourself in.” 

“If I wasn’t involved in Yuuka’s death, what’s the point in turning myself in? You’re acting strange. You didn’t see anything, so why are you so convinced I’m the culprit?” 

“Then... I want... Ando-san... say truth... you killer,” Al replied, his voice trembling. 

“Why would you lie to make me the culprit? It doesn’t make sense.” 

“I didn’t see... but I know... when you... came studio... Ando-san... smell... Yuka’s blood... you were near her... when she died.” 

Al could see Ando’s pale face tense up as they faced each other.

“Tell truth... take responsibility... for what you did,” Al pleaded.

Ando turned her back to Al and leaned over the railing. Even though they were on the second-floor emergency staircase, the high ceiling of the first floor made it about the height of a third floor in an apartment building.

“No... don’t,” Al whispered, realizing that Ando might jump. Panicking, Al grabbed Ando by the shoulders.

“There’s someone lying down below,” Ando muttered in a calm voice.

“What?”

“Maybe they fell from the stairs, just like Yuuka did.”

Al ran to the railing and peered down. The parking lot below was dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. It was dark, and the leaves of the trees planted here and there obstructed his view.

"Look, near that tree," Ando pointed to the tree directly ahead, as if noticing Al’s difficulty in finding it. Al leaned further over the railing, straining to see. There was nothing visible under the tree, but something glinted among the branches and leaves.

Just as Al leaned in further to get a better look, a strong force struck his back. His body lurched forward, his upper half hanging over the railing. His chest tightened in fear, but somehow his feet stayed on the ground, stopping him like a blanket draped over a balcony. He felt a moment of relief, but it was short-lived as Ando grabbed his right foot and forcefully pushed him over the railing.

“Whoa…!”

Al’s right hand slipped, but his left hand managed to grab onto the railing. He dangled precariously, his body swaying like a pendulum.

Ando, panting heavily, crouched down and began to pry Al’s fingers off the railing one by one.

“No… stop… I’ll fall,” Al pleaded, desperately reaching out with his right hand to grab the railing. But before he could, Ando had peeled away his left index and middle fingers—the only support he had left.

In that instant, Al felt the rush of air against his body and heard the whoosh of wind by his ears. The landing of the emergency staircase grew distant. He was falling, falling, falling… and then, with a loud thud, he hit the concrete below.

The pain was indescribable. It felt as if his entire body had been broken into pieces and thrown into a blender, the agony overwhelming. Tears streamed from his eyes, and his body trembled uncontrollably as if electrocuted. The pain was excruciating, unbearable…

Ando was nowhere to be seen on the emergency staircase. She had pushed Al off and then disappeared. Al tried to move his limbs. Even though they were twisted, he could still move his hands somehow. His back felt gritty inside, probably broken. His head… his head… When he tried to move it, it felt unsteady. He touched it with his hand, twisted in pain, and found that it was indeed cracked.

The sound of his fall must have alerted others, as many footsteps approached. He could hear voices.

“K-Kane-san!”

He sensed many people gathering around him, and one of them rushed over. It was a man in his thirties who worked on the set in Studio One.

“What happened? How did this…?”

The man’s hands trembled as if he were cold.

“Fell… stairs…” Al tried to say, but blood gushed from his mouth before he could finish.

“I... I’m okay,” Al insisted.

“D-don’t try to talk! Someone... call an ambulance...” the man shouted.

“No!”

Al shouted, his voice echoing in his cracked head, making him feel dizzy like he was seasick.

“We have to! You’ll… you’ll die!”

“No call… absolutely not…” Al insisted, knowing that if he were taken to a hospital, they would discover he wasn’t normal. He’d be reported, captured, and sent back to the United States… he couldn’t let that happen.

“But… but…”

“Call Sakeiri…”

The man from the set hesitated.

“Call Sakeiri…”

Al could hear the man yelling to someone nearby to go get Producer Sakeiri from Studio One. Sakeiri rushed over, and as soon as he saw Al, his face turned pale, and his knees began to tremble.

“Did you... call an ambulance?!”

“He said he didn’t want one. He asked for you, Producer Sakeiri.”

The set crewman explained the situation. Sakeiri looked down at Al with a helpless expression.

“K-Kane-san, I can’t do anything for you. I’m not a doctor. Let’s go to the hospital. Please…”

“Call Akira…”

“What?”

“Call Akira…”

Sakeiri looked down at Al, his face on the verge of tears.

“It’s not time to rely on him yet. Let’s go to the hospital. You’ll be okay, you’ll be saved…”

"I won’t die. Hurry... call Akira!"

Though hesitant, Sakeiri finally made the call to Akira. More and more people gathered around, some just curious onlookers. He could hear them whispering, “Is he okay?” and “This looks really bad.”

"Everyone else... go away," Al muttered.

The stage crew and a few others brought partitions from the storage room and surrounded Al to shield his bloodied, motionless body from view. He could hear Mitani and his manager, Sakurai, shooing away the crowd.

“Takatsuka said he’s coming right away, but it’ll still take ten or fifteen minutes. He also said not to call an ambulance. Is this really okay? Won’t you… won’t you die before Takatsuka gets here?”

“I…”

Al felt something warm and slippery oozing from his head. Sakeiri screamed, “Gyaaa!” and fell backward, and Al quickly pressed his hand to his head. His skin had split open, and something soft was starting to protrude from the crack in his skull. He hurriedly pushed it back inside.

“I’m fine…”

"You’re not okay at all! Th-that squishy thing... was that..."

Sakeiri’s teeth were chattering.

“It’s nothing…”

“It’s not nothing! Your insides were coming out! You’ve got to be seriously injured!”

“It’s… just a scratch…”

"Stop lying! You’re talking, but you’re bleeding like crazy, your leg is all twisted—this isn’t normal!"

Sakeiri’s phone rang.

“Huh? Where are we? Behind the studio. Hurry up and do something about your guy!”

Footsteps approached from the dimly lit area near the streetlamp. Al recognized the hurried pace. Akira pushed aside the partition and entered. The moment Al saw his face, his emotions overflowed, and tears streamed from his eyes.

"You stupid idiot! What the hell are you doing?!" Akira’s first words, which Al had eagerly awaited, were harsh and without mercy, even towards an injured person. Sakeiri’s mouth dropped open in shock.

"Akira... it hurts."

"Of course it does if you’ve injured yourself so badly that you’re bleeding like this!"

"But… but…"

Akira turned to Sakeiri and barked, "Get me duct tape, bandages, scissors, a few towels—some wet, some dry—and something to wrap him up completely." Sakeiri practically flew back to the studio. Inside the partition, it was just Al and Akira.

"My head... it’s cracked... stuff is coming out," Al whispered.

"Keep it pressed down," Akira replied brusquely, examining Al’s twisted leg and gently touching it.

"Did you fall from a height?"

"I... I was pushed," Al admitted.

A vein bulged on Akira’s forehead.

"Who did this?! This is attempted murder!"

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