Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 3 - Part 7

Previous TOC Next

After what seemed like the jolt of a landing, the engine noise gradually faded away. It appeared that the plane had arrived at the airport. There was a loud bang as the door opened, and Al felt himself being rolled and tossed around multiple times before finally being placed on a rattling platform.

Al had snuck into a large, retro-style suitcase. The contents of the suitcase had been moved into a plastic container, which had been shoved into the farthest corner of the cargo hold. Feeling guilty toward the owner of the suitcase, Al had written "sorry" on a piece of stationery he’d bought the day before and slipped it into the container. Curled up like a cat, Al held his breath and stayed still while the suitcase rattled along. His immediate goal was to "get out of the airport." Once he managed that, he could figure things out from there.

The suitcase eventually came to a stop with a light thud, likely just before being placed on the luggage carousel. He could hear voices, but they were too muffled to make out. After about 15 minutes, the suitcase started moving again.

"Whoa, what’s in this thing? It’s ridiculously heavy." 

To Al’s surprise, the voice was speaking in Japanese. The suitcase rattled and bumped as it was dragged along. Al instantly regretted not thinking about the suitcase's orientation, as he had now ended up upside down during the move. On top of that, the Japanese man moving the suitcase was handling it roughly, yanking it over every bump with brute force, making Al's head slam repeatedly against the inside.

It was likely the suitcase’s owner who was moving it now. Al figured they had probably exited the airport by this point. The next decision was when to escape from the suitcase.

"Taxi… uh, where’s the taxi stand?" 

It seemed the man was planning to take a taxi, which meant he probably wouldn’t be going far. Al’s plan was to slip out of the suitcase while it was in the taxi’s trunk and make his escape the moment the trunk was opened. Even if he ended up in an unfamiliar location, he could just ask someone for directions.

While the suitcase was placed into the taxi’s trunk, Al let out a sigh of relief—so far, the haphazard plan was working. But then, thud, the suitcase jolted violently. Though it wasn’t as bad as rolling around upright, the taxi ride was still pretty bumpy.

Al tried to find the small opening in the zipper he’d left for his escape, but to his horror, it was gone. There was no gap anywhere.

"Hmm? What the...?" 

He was sure he’d left about a two-inch opening, but no matter how hard he searched with his fingers, it was nowhere to be found. Maybe the zipper had closed during the trip. Desperate, he tried to tear the zipper apart with his hands and feet, but the suitcase was built like a fortress and wouldn’t budge.

Just as Al was struggling inside the suitcase, the taxi came to a stop. From the sound of the door opening, he knew it wasn’t just a stop at a traffic light. It sounded like the trunk was being opened. His plan to escape at that moment had failed.

Al considered shouting out, claiming to be a victim locked in the suitcase, but if the person was cautious, they might call the police before opening it. That could backfire. It might be better to stay inside and wait for the owner to open it at their destination. With only one person as a witness, even if they called someone or the police, Al could likely escape before they arrived.

The suitcase was lifted out of the trunk and set down. It started rolling again. From the sounds of voices, it seemed they had arrived at a hotel. The surface the suitcase was rolling on felt smoother than a road, and it moved faster. After a big bump, Al felt a change in air pressure, likely from entering an elevator.

The elevator stopped twice, and on the third stop, the suitcase began to move again. The floor now felt soft, and the vibrations were minimal. Suddenly, everything came to a halt. Al heard a knock on a door.

"Haruna-chan, it’s me." 

The man called out to someone. Al held his breath. A click followed as the door opened.

"You really found my suitcase! Thank goodness. Thanks so much, Watanabe-san!" 

A girl’s voice responded. She was speaking in Japanese, too.

"I’ll bring your luggage inside." 

The suitcase rolled again, likely into the room.

"I was just talking about going shopping with the makeup artist to buy clothes and cosmetics. Good thing we waited!" 

The girl, apparently named Haruna, had a familiar-sounding voice, though Al couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before.

"When I heard your suitcase got mixed up with the tour group’s luggage and sent to Nebraska, I was really worried. It’s America, so I thought the response would be slow, but I’m glad they managed to send it back on the same day. Still, what’s inside this thing? It was so heavy!" 

Haruna replied, "Huh… it’s just normal stuff, right?"

"I get it, it’s your first time abroad, so it’s easy to overpack." 

There was a rhythmic electronic sound, and the man, Watanabe, muttered, "Oh, a message. Wonder who it’s from." At the same time, Al's suitcase was turned on its side with a thud.

"Wow, this thing is really heavy," Haruna remarked.

"Was it always this heavy? …Oh well. Anyway, where are my glasses…?" 

With a loud zip, the suitcase’s zipper was pulled open, and the suitcase popped open. Al, not prepared for this moment, froze in place. He and the girl—likely Haruna—locked eyes for a moment. She looked like she was in her late teens, with large, wide eyes and a slender figure. Al felt like he had seen her face somewhere before, too.

"…Watanabe-san?" 

"Hmm? What is it, Haruna-chan?" 

Watanabe was engrossed in his smartphone, responding absentmindedly. He looked to be about thirty, with short hair, a sturdy build, and glasses.

"There’s a person inside my suitcase." 

"Haha, what are you talking about?" 

Watanabe turned around and saw Al, his face contorting in shock as he screamed, "Ahhhhhh!" 

Al tried to escape, but being cramped up in the suitcase had left his legs numb, making it hard to stand up right away.

"I... not suspicious… person," Al stammered. 

"What do you mean you're not suspicious? You’re suspicious as hell!" 

Watanabe yelled. 

"I leave now! Sorry!" 

As Al wobbled toward the door, Watanabe jumped in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes glared at Al with the ferocity of a bull. 

"Who the hell are you? Are you Haruna’s stalker?!" 

"I just… American!"

"I can tell you're a foreigner!! Haruna, call the police!" 

This was bad! If the police got involved and discovered his true identity, he'd be taken to a research lab for sure. 

"Watanabe-san, should I call 110 even for the American police?" Haruna asked calmly, to which Watanabe shouted back: 

"I don’t care, just call someone!" 

The more people gathered, the worse this would get. Al realized he had no choice but to get past Watanabe, who stood like a bull blocking his way. Al curled up into a ball, imagining himself as a bullet, and charged straight at Watanabe. 

The moment they collided, Watanabe grabbed Al by the chest with a firm grip. With a grunt, Watanabe lifted Al into the air, and within seconds, Al was slammed onto the floor with Watanabe’s full weight on top of him. Watanabe pinned Al by the neck, rendering him completely immobile. 

"You’re one hell of a troublemaker!" Watanabe growled, tightening his grip on Al’s throat, making it hard for Al to breathe. Multiple footsteps approached—this was the sound of despair. It was over. The police were coming... 

"Hey, are you alright?!" 

Though Al was face down and couldn’t see clearly, he heard a voice that was familiar to his ears—clear as day. 

"What’s going on here?!" Another familiar voice chimed in. 

"This foreign stalker attacked us. Call the hotel front desk and have them contact the police." 

"Got it," said the man, who turned and walked away. Al thought he resembled Sakeiri from behind. 

"Mitani-kun, could you grab something—anything—to tie his hands and feet?"

Al strained to lift his head. There was no doubt about it. The person standing in front of him, looking down at him, was Mitani. 

"Huh… wait, what?" Mitani seemed to recognize Al and stood there with his mouth hanging open. 

"Kane? What are you doing in Haruna-chan’s room?" 

"Mitani… why are you here?" 

"Why? This is where the cast of Mahiro are staying during the shoot. Kane, weren’t you supposed to arrive early?" 

Watanabe, who was still pinning Al down, glanced between Mitani and Al. 

"Mitani-san, you know this stalker?" 

"He’s not a stalker. This is Kane Roberts, who’s playing the vampire Keegan for the second season." 

Watanabe let out a shocked "Ehhh?!" and leaned down to get a closer look at Al's face. 

"Now that you mention it, he’s kinda handsome... but his face looks different!" 

"Kane’s makeup is pretty close to special effects..." Mitani explained. 

Watanabe’s grip on Al’s neck finally eased, allowing him to breathe a bit more comfortably. 

"Mitani-kun, what’s the front desk number again?" Sakeiri, still holding the phone, turned around. 

"Sakeiri-san, I don’t think we need to call the police after all." 

"We don’t? But weren’t we going to— Oh, wait, isn’t that Kane-san?" 

Thanks to Mitani and Sakeiri recognizing him, Watanabe’s hold on Al was finally released. As it turned out, Al had accidentally stowed away in Haruna Kitasato’s suitcase, the lead actress of BLOOD GIRL Mahiro’s second season. 

"I understand that you’re an actor," Watanabe said, still looking stern, "but sneaking into someone’s suitcase without permission is clearly suspicious." 

Just as Watanabe was about to continue, Mitani stifled a laugh. 

"This isn’t funny..." Watanabe began, but Sakeiri burst out with a hearty laugh, "Hahaha!" 

"Kane-san, I’ve gotta tell you, American-style crazy pranks like this don’t land with Japanese people!" 

Sakeiri was doubled over in laughter, while Watanabe shouted in frustration, "This is no joke! What if Haruna had been alone when she opened the suitcase? Something could have gone terribly wrong!" 

Sakeiri patted Watanabe on the shoulder, still chuckling. "Come on, Watanabe. I get that American humor can be hard for us Japanese to handle, but this was just a bit of fun. Kane-san’s a good guy. He wore funny T-shirts during the last season to lighten the mood on set. I’m sure he was just trying to help Haruna relax since I told him she gets really nervous. Besides, there’s no way Kane would ever do anything inappropriate with Haruna. I guarantee it." 

"How can you guarantee that?" Watanabe fired back. 

Sakeiri scratched his head awkwardly, looking at Al. It was clear he expected Al to say something, so Al stepped forward. 

"Haruna-san, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again." He bowed deeply to her. 

Haruna smiled and said, "It’s okay. I was a bit surprised, but it was kind of funny." 

Even though Haruna was laughing, Watanabe still looked as stern as ever. 

"If the actor’s like this, then the producer’s just as bad. No sense of decency!" he grumbled, clearly frustrated. 

Unable to bear the fact that even Sakeiri was being blamed, Al blurted out, "Sakairi… not bad!" 

"This isn’t about good or bad!" Watanabe shouted, his anger rising. Sakeiri scratched his head, looking at a loss. 

"Alright, alright. Kane might have gone a bit overboard with the prank, but Haruna’s not upset, and Kane has a significant other, so it’s really not a big deal." 

Mitani nodded in agreement. 

"Exactly. Kane’s fine." 

"You both keep saying ‘he’s fine,’ but what exactly are you basing that on? Explain yourselves!" Watanabe demanded. Sakeiri and Mitani exchanged uneasy glances. 

"Well... it’s kind of a private matter..." Sakeiri mumbled. 

"And what’s that supposed to mean?" Watanabe pressed. 

"Wait, is Kane-san... gay?" Haruna asked innocently, having observed the conversation quietly until now. 

Watanabe froze, speechless. Sakeiri and Mitani also went silent. 

"I’m not… real gay! It’s just Akira… so, a little gay," Al stammered, trying to explain. 

Sakeiri muttered, "A little gay, huh? That’s a new one," and then gave a sheepish smile to Watanabe and Haruna. 

Uh, well… for the sake of Kane-san’s acting career, let’s keep this conversation off the record until he’s ready to come out publicly, okay?"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

“I’m curious,” Akira muttered as he drove the Cherokee, which had been left at the airport. “That actress, Haruna, and her manager kept staring at me. Have we met before?”

…Al couldn’t bring himself to tell him. He couldn’t say that everyone including Kyiv had thought he and Akira were a couple.

Exactly an hour and thirty minutes after Al had gone to Haruna’s room, Akira and Kyiv arrived with the contents of her suitcase. Kyiv introduced himself with a lie, saying, “I’m Al’s cousin.”

Al had already explained everything to Akira, using the phone he had borrowed from Sakeiri, including what had happened in Haruna’s room and about her lost baggage. Kyiv, who must have overheard, smoothly delivered a plausible explanation.

[“We’re terribly sorry for causing such a shock. You see, at Omaha Airport, the three of us—Kane, Akira, and I—were together, and an airport employee asked Akira about some Japanese tourist’s luggage. The employee said, ‘The luggage that was supposed to be offloaded in Chicago was mistakenly sent to Omaha. We know who the owner is, but we need to confirm the name’s pronunciation.’ When Kane saw the name, he realized it belonged to one of the cast members for the current drama shoot. That’s when we got the idea for the prank of sneaking into the suitcase… it was just a joke.”]

Kyiv’s gentle, relaxed apology was translated by Akira, his tone flat and emotionless. Watanabe, who had been furious earlier, now glanced curiously at Akira with unveiled interest.

[“We truly apologize. As you can see, all the contents of the luggage have been transferred into this bag. Please accept it along with our sincerest apologies for intruding into the lady’s privacy.”]

Kyiv handed over an ultra-luxury brand travel bag, which even Al recognized. Whether Haruna knew its value or not, she accepted it casually with a simple, “Thank you.” Watanabe, standing beside her, swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the bag.

“Um…” Haruna’s gaze turned directly toward Akira, who had been acting as the interpreter. 

“You’re Akira, right?”

Suddenly addressed by name, Akira tilted his head slightly and responded, “Uh, yeah. That’s me.” 

“You’re really handsome.” 

Rather than pleased, Akira seemed more bothered by the comment, but he still felt obligated to respond. “Thanks,” he muttered bluntly. 

“Are you an actor, by any chance?” 

“No.” 

Watanabe mumbled, “Huh, what a waste.”

“There are a lot of good-looking men, but it’s rare to find someone with your presence. If you’re interested, our agency could…” 

“I have no interest in the entertainment industry.” 

The atmosphere froze. Saying such a thing in front of actors and producers was quite inappropriate. Even Akira, usually oblivious, seemed to realize the shift in the mood caused by his words. 

“I don’t watch dramas or variety shows, so I don’t care about it, but I don’t mean to criticize the industry itself.”

…Soon after, Akira and Al left the room. Kyiv, who apparently found an available room in the hotel, stayed behind.

Driving through the streets of Chicago, Akira sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. That actress and her manager have nothing to do with me.” 

He let out a sigh. “Yesterday, we ran into a robbery at a general store, then today, we almost got caught by the police for speeding, and on top of that, we had your suitcase debacle. Ever since we got here, it’s been nothing but trouble. I don’t remember anything going smoothly.”

“I’m sorry,” Al blurted out an apology instinctively.

“I’m not blaming you. The store incident was a coincidence, and it was Kyiv who got the speeding ticket. As for the plane… I didn’t expect it to be delayed that much either. I couldn’t even get a message to you since I couldn’t access the cargo hold. Kyiv tried sneaking into the hold by turning into mist, but because it was sealed, he couldn’t get in. We were out of options, but I didn’t expect you to sneak into a suitcase. As much trouble as Kyiv causes, I’m glad he was there this time. While we were looking for you at the airport, Sakeiri contacted us, and when we received the actress’s luggage, Kyiv used his memory manipulation to avoid the usual paperwork.”

The car came to a stop in front of a house in a residential area about ten minutes from the hotel. It was surrounded by tall, white walls. This must be the house where Al had been thawed, but back then, it was dark, and he had been in too much pain to notice his surroundings.

The gate was large, made of wrought iron with delicate curves. The house beyond, with its pointed roof and white exterior, had an old-fashioned design rarely seen these days. When Akira spoke into the intercom, the gate silently opened.

Between the gate and the house, as well as the garage, several outdoor lights illuminated the smooth, marble-like path. Even in the dim light, it was clear that the lawn was perfectly manicured.

Akira pulled the car into the garage and retrieved their luggage. Just as he was about to press the doorbell, the door flew open.

[“Akira! I’ve missed you!”] 

A large figure rushed out and hugged Akira tightly. 

[“…It’s been a while, Dick.”] 

Akira muttered in a strained voice as he was squeezed. When Al realized that the man clinging to Akira was none other than the legendary Richard Carlisle, he felt a wave of dizziness. A true icon of the film industry, Richard’s achievements and status were so impressive that it was hard to look at him directly. And yet, Akira was close enough to him to call him “Dick.”

Richard looked just like he did on TV—his light blond hair, streaked with gray, and pale blue eyes reminiscent of dawn. The gentle wrinkles around his eyes exuded a warmth that only comes with age. Tall and long-limbed, Richard was as fit as he had been during his acting days. He wore a white V-neck sweater and jeans, a casual outfit that suited him perfectly. Now in his fifties, he had the rugged charm of an older man who could easily play the role of a seasoned father figure.

Though Richard had risen to fame as a producer and found great success, he had retired from acting about ten years ago, after starring in White Bloom.

After hugging Akira from several angles and showering him with kisses on the forehead and cheeks as one might do with a child, Richard finally let him go and noticed Al standing nearby.

[“You're Albert, right? I'm so glad you could come!”]

Richard smiled warmly, extending his right hand.

[“Oh, yes. Th-thank you... nice to meet you,”]

Al stammered a little, nervous in front of the producer he admired so much.

[“We've talked on the phone before, haven't we, Al? You're even more handsome than I imagined. Well, come on in, both of you.”]

They were ushered inside. Al's excitement at finally meeting Richard made his steps feel light and airy.

[“I didn't expect to find you here,”] Akira murmured, to which Richard responded with a smile.

[“When my beloved son is visiting for the first time in five years, I can't just keep working. I negotiated with my manager and managed to secure some time off.”]

Al couldn't help but eavesdrop. Richard had called Akira his "beloved son." Could Akira be Richard Carlisle's son? But Akira's parents were supposed to have passed away... Could he be adopted?

As the three of them settled into the living room, the sound of a ringtone filled the air. Richard frowned dramatically as he picked up his phone, glanced at the screen, and muttered, [“It's Bob,”] with a small click of his tongue.

[“Bob's my manager. He's incredibly competent, but it seems he enjoys keeping me busy.”]

Richard took the call and stepped away to talk to Bob, bits of his voice carrying over, [“Come on, that's not fair," "You've got to do something about this,”] he pleaded.

When he finally hung up, Richard shrugged his shoulders lightly.

[“Bad luck. Bob's given me more work. It's some urgent documents that need an immediate response. I really wanted to hear more from you two, but it looks like you'll have to wait a bit longer. Feel free to have some wine while you wait.”]

[“No,”] Akira raised his right hand. [“I was thinking of calling it a day. We've had a lot going on and we're pretty tired. Let's talk tomorrow.”]

Richard's face fell, visibly disappointed.

[“Really? Well, if that's how you feel...”]

From deep within the living room came the sound of small footsteps. A short, white-haired old woman approached—it was Martha, who had almost shot Al earlier.

[“Welcome back, Akira, Al,”] she said.

Akira bent down to hug Martha.

[“Did you enjoy your trip?”]

Akira hesitated, and Martha tilted her head in curiosity.

[“You went to Al's family home, didn't you? Did you meet his parents?”]

[“No, I didn't. This time, it was just Al returning home.”]

[“I see,”] Martha sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. [“There are many conservative people in the countryside. Oh, and I've prepared the room next to yours for Al, but would you prefer to stay together?”]

[“Separate is fine. I'd like to sleep alone for once. I'm tired, so I'll be going to bed now. Goodnight, Martha, Dick.”]

Leaving Richard with an expression of lingering regret, Akira headed upstairs, and Al hurried to follow him. The room prepared for him was next to Akira's and had the same layout. As he flopped onto the canopy bed and looked around the spacious room, filled with what appeared to be expensive furnishings, it felt strange to think he had once been stuffed into a suitcase and rolled around—it all seemed like a distant memory.

After lying down for a while, Al suddenly sprang up. He opened the thick curtains and looked out over the large, well-lit garden. This must be the Gold Coast, a district of Chicago known for its luxurious homes. It was close to the hotel, and the surrounding area was filled with large estates.

It was a magnificent house, but this probably wasn't Richard's main residence. Considering his work, his primary base was likely in LA. Besides, there weren't any photographs in the living room, suggesting this was just one of his second homes.

Gazing absentmindedly at the garden, Al realized the bright lights were probably for security. Even Al, who only knew from the news, had heard of a few cases of harassment or threats directed at Richard. Being famous must be tough, Al thought as he stepped away from the window.

The room had its own bathroom, but curious about the rest of the house, Al began opening every door and drawer he could find. When he put his hand on the door next to the bed and opened it, it swung outward with a click. Though it seemed odd for a closet, when he peeked inside, he found Akira, now changed into sweats, sitting on the bedside.

"What do you want?" Akira asked, sounding annoyed.

"What’s this door for?"

"It’s a connecting room."

Al had seen such doors in hotels before, but it was rare to find connected rooms in a private home.

"That’s interesting."

"Stop fooling around and go to bed," Akira said, walking over with large strides and slamming the door shut right in front of Al. Feeling dejected, Al took a shower and changed into a T-shirt and shorts.

He wondered if he would get a chance to talk to Richard tomorrow. But then, he remembered—by the time the sun came up, he would turn into a bat. There was a drama shoot at night. The next day, he would have free time both day and night, but would Richard still be in the house by then?

Having too high expectations could lead to a big letdown... Al decided it was best to just go to sleep. Even if, by some miracle, Richard liked him enough to offer him a movie role, his chances of starring in it were slim, given he could only appear in human form at night.

Al turned off the lights in the room and got into bed, but the slightly open curtain bothered him. The light from the garden was bright, and it seeped through the gap. Barefoot, he got out of bed and approached the window. Looking to the right, he saw that the light in Akira’s room was off.

It was then that Al noticed a shadow crossing the garden. It was too dark to see clearly, but the figure seemed tall, so Al thought it might be Richard taking a stroll. He opened the window wide, and at that moment, the figure stopped and turned to look at him. It was a young man, thin, with black hair and a beard.

Al hadn’t heard about any male servants being in the house. Given the size of the building, it wouldn’t be surprising if there were, but... The man, aware of Al, didn’t greet him and simply disappeared into the darkness. Al felt uneasy. He quickly put on his shoes and ran out into the hallway.

He dashed down the stairs and out into the garden. The wind was blowing hard. A strong wind. Al had a bad feeling. He ran through the garden. The light made the ground bright underfoot. He made a full circle back to the front entrance, but there was no sign of anyone. Maybe they had escaped outside. The walls and gates were high, but not insurmountable with the right equipment.

As Al re-entered the house, he ran into Richard, who was coming out of the kitchen with a wine bottle in hand.

[“Richard, do you have any male servants in this house?”]

[“No, none.”]

When Al told him about the shadowy figure in the garden, Richard's expression darkened slightly.

[“There have been a lot of pranks and harassment lately. It might be one of those. My house in LA has top-notch garden security, but here it's not as secure. However, the security inside the mansion is solid, so there's no need to worry. I'm sorry for making you uneasy when you came to visit. I'll contact the security company tomorrow to beef up surveillance in the garden.”]

[“Oh, but it could just be my imagination...”]

Richard shook his head.

[“You wouldn't think of going out into the garden over something you just imagined.”]

Al fell silent.

[“By the way, do you like wine?”] Richard asked, lifting the bottle slightly to show it off.

Previous TOC Next