Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 4 - Part 7

Previous TOC Next

When he returned to the living room, Martha and Stan were already gone. He wanted to find the kitchen, but the house was so vast that he had no idea where anything was. Opening one door revealed a guest room, and another a fitness room.

Beyond the fitness room, an indoor pool separated by glass windows came into view. The sound of water splashing echoed through the space, drawing Al further in, sensing someone's presence.

In the pool, Stan was swimming completely naked. Richard wasn't home, so it was just Stan and Martha in the house, and Martha didn't seem like the type to swim. With no one else around, there was no need for him to cover up, after all.

Al hesitated to call out, wondering if it might embarrass Stan, but Stan noticed him first.

[“Al, isn’t it? What’s up?”]

Stan emerged from the pool with a splash and walked toward Al, still dripping wet and completely naked. Despite often being nude himself, Al found it oddly uncomfortable to see someone else's body like this. It reminded him of how Giraffe on the hijacked plane had remarked, “You should probably wear some clothes,” and now, he finally understood that feeling.

[“Feel free to use the pool and fitness area while you're here, whenever you like.”]

[“Uh, well…”]

Al averted his eyes slightly as he tried to ask for directions to the kitchen. But he froze when he realized how close Stan's body had suddenly gotten.

[“...Or are you turned on by my body?”]

Stan's eyes looked at Al intensely, and he lightly touched the front of his jeans. Al yelped, [“Whoa!”], and jumped back. Seeing his reaction, Stan chuckled with a smile.

[“Just kidding.”]

But then he added with a teasing tone, [“Though, I have to admit, I'm a little hurt. You're exactly my type. The moment I saw you, I liked you. But since you're Richard's beloved son's partner, I figured I shouldn't make a move. Still, if you ever feel like having a little 'fun,' just let me know. I'm single, and I promise I'll keep it a secret from Akira.”]

It seemed that Stan, a bisexual who didn't care about gender when it came to love, enjoyed his romantic life freely.

[“Um, I… I'm really only interested in Akira. I've never even thought about being with anyone else, even just for fun. Sorry.”]

When Al apologized, Stan sighed softly, [“What a shame,”] swaying his hips slightly. The sight of Stan's impressive equipment swinging like a pendulum made Al instinctively look away, fixing his gaze on some random spot above.

[“The house is huge, and I don’t know where the kitchen is. Could you show me?”]

Al finally managed to mention the reason he had come. Stan, who had already walked back to the pool area, returned shortly after, now dressed in knee-length shorts and a T-shirt.

[“This place is big, yeah. I’ll show you to the kitchen.”]

Stan led the way, and Al quickly followed after him.

[“Sorry for interrupting your swim…”]

[“It's no big deal.”]

The kitchen, which Al had been searching for, was located west of the entrance. It was spacious, predominantly white, and featured a large oven—everything about it screamed functionality. Compared to this, Akira's apartment kitchen felt like a cramped little box.

Al peeked into the fridge and asked, [“Is it okay if I use some of the ingredients?”]

[“Use whatever you like. Are you hungry?”]

Al closed the fridge door. [“Akira hasn’t eaten anything tonight. He says he's not hungry, but I'm worried…”]

Stan nodded thoughtfully. ["Hmm."]

[“There's some left over minestrone and chicken from dinner. Should I heat it up for you?”]

[“Oh, thank you.”]

Al had assumed Stan would just microwave it, but instead, he put the minestrone in a pot and the chicken in the oven. Stan offered to bring the food to the living room when it was ready, but Al felt bad about that and declined. He retrieved plates from the kitchen cabinets and placed them on a tray, preparing everything himself. While he worked, Stan, watching him, asked, [“Just one serving?”]

[“Yeah. I already ate, so I'm fine.”]

As the food warmed up, Al sat on a tall stool in the corner of the kitchen, waiting. Stirring the pot, Stan mumbled, [“Akira's lucky.”]

[“Why?”]

[“Because he has such a caring partner who worries about him when he's not hungry.”]

Al blushed at the compliment and looked down, feeling a little shy.

[“Akira was on that hijacked plane yesterday, right? I heard Martha and Richard were released early, but Akira stayed until the end. He must have been terrified. Maybe the stress is why he doesn't have an appetite.”]

Al remembered how Akira had fought by his side during the incident. Since all the hijackers had been arrested, he hadn't thought Akira would still be troubled by it. Just then, Stan glanced at Al.

[“By the way, you look a lot like one of the hostages in that hijacking. There was a rumor online that the last person released had been assaulted by one of the hijackers, though it wasn't reported on TV. I remember thinking, 'Why was he wearing nothing but an apron?'”]

Al quickly denied it. [“That wasn’t me!”]

Stan burst out laughing. [“I know. Martha told me you weren't on that plane.”]

Al breathed a sigh of relief.

[“I've heard about Akira for a while now—how he's the son of Hanae Tamura and works as an embalmer in Japan. But I never imagined he'd be so good-looking, with such a unique allure. He'd be perfect as an actor. Has he ever considered acting?”]

Al responded, [“He's not interested.”]

[“That’s a shame. Someone with his looks and vibe is rare, and if he were promoted, I bet he'd become a huge star. Plus, with Hanae Tamura's name and Richard Carlisle backing him, success would be almost guaranteed. But I guess it's up to him if he wants it. So…what do you do for a living?”]

[“I’m an actor in Japan.”]

Akira always teased him for being terrible at it, but it wasn't a lie. Stan's eyes read up.

[“An actor in Japan, huh? That's amazing. I knew right away you had a different vibe from ordinary people. But how did an actor and an embalmer even meet?”]

[“Uh… through a mutual friend, I guess. I was broke, so I ended up staying at Akira's place.”]

Stan turned off the stove.

[“So, you guys are living together in Japan. Sounds nice. How long are you planning to stay here?”]

Al tilted his head, realizing he didn't know the exact date of their return. With the hijacking taking up one of their days, he figured they wouldn't be staying too long.

[“About two or three more days, I guess?”] 

[“What? That soon?”] 

[“I've been in Chicago for a while. I can be more flexible with my time, but Akira has worked back in Japan.”] 

[“That’s a shame. You should stay longer if you can. Oh, by the way, Martha and I take turns cooking dinner at night. If there's anything specific you'd like to eat, feel free to make a request. I can even make some Japanese dishes, though my repertoire is limited. It might be nice for Akira to have some familiar food since he's been lacking appetite.”] 

Stan warmed up the minestrone, plated it, and even sliced ​​the chicken, adding a few tomatoes on the side. 

[“Ah, can’t forget this.”] 

Stan took out a knife, fork, and spoon from the drawer of the dish cabinet. The gleam of the silverware made Al's skin crawl. These were silver utensils. Al remembered hearing that his grandmother had brought silverware when she married into the family, but because silver required a lot of care, they were only used on special occasions. Al had no particular attachment to silverware, but perhaps because of the old belief he'd heard that a silver stake to the heart would kill a vampire, sharp silver objects unnerved him. 

[“What's wrong?”] 

Stan's voice snapped Al out of his intense stare at the cutlery. 

[“Oh, it's nothing. I just noticed it's silver...”] 

Stan gave a slight nod. 

[“Yeah, it's got a beautiful pattern on the handle, don't you think? It's an antique, a keepsake from Richard's mother. He's not really interested in these things, so I bring them out when guests come over, rather than let them sit unused.”] 

Al started to think that Stan might be more attentive to the small details around the house than Richard. Thanking Stan, Al left the kitchen. 

Walking down the hallway with the tray in hand, he realized that quite a bit of time had passed since he left the room. Akira might already be asleep. Should he wake him up to eat? He debated this, imagining Akira's irritation if disturbed, but that worry was unfounded. Akira was still awake. 

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he stared blankly out the fully opened curtains. Beyond the window, the night was pitch black, with only the faint glow of the garden lights visible. Al had never seen Akira look so relaxed before, so it came as a surprise. Akira slowly turned his head, noticing Al's return. 

“…What’s that?” 

He stared at the tray in Al's hands. 

"Dinner." 

"I told you I didn't want any food." 

"This is leftover... from dinner. Very tasty. Maybe." 

Al brought the tray closer to the bed. Akira wrinkled his brow, his nose twitching. Since he didn't say "take it away," Al placed the tray on the bed on purpose. 

“Hey, don’t put it there!” 

"Table... far." 

Even with the food closed by, Akira didn't touch it, though he seemed to be considering it. Al climbed onto the bed, picked up the fork, and stabbed a piece of chicken, intending to feed it to Akira. But sensing this, Akira quickly grabbed the bowl of minestrone instead. Ignoring the chicken, at least he was showing signs of eating something, which made Al feel relieved. 

Over the course of about fifteen minutes, Akira finished the bowl of soup. He didn't touch the chicken, however, and stood up, taking the tray in hand. Al followed him as he left the room. 

By the console with the Buddha statue on it, Akira suddenly turned around sharply. 

"Why are you following me?" 

He shouted out of nowhere. Al took a step back but held his ground. 

"Because... I worry." 

"I'm just taking the dishes back to the kitchen. Stop following me around like a goldfish's poop." 

"Goldfish... poop? What?" 

Akira seemed about to explain, but then closed his mouth. Turning his back to Al, he started down the stairs. Despite being told not to follow, Al trailed him, keeping a bit of distance. 

"Akira...goldfish poop...tell me." 

“…Explaining from scratch is a hassle.” 

"I learn... more Japanese." 

“You don’t need Japanese anymore!” 

"If no speak Japanese... I can't buy... T-shirt at supermarket." 

As they approached the entrance's open atrium near the kitchen, a voice called out from the adjacent living room. 

[“Is that strange language you’re speaking Japanese?”] 

Turning around, they saw Stan lounging on the sofa. On the massive monitor across from him, what seemed like a movie was playing. Stan sat up energetically and walked over to them, peering at the tray in Akira's hands. 

[“Oh, you don’t like the chicken?”] 

[“The minestrone was delicious. Did you make it?”] 

Akira asked, and Stan smiled gently. 

[“Yeah, I did.”] 

[“It's different from the strong flavors Martha usually makes, and for something Al made, I thought it was pretty decent... Sorry for leaving the chicken, even though you went to the trouble of preparing it.”] 

[“Don’t worry about it. It was leftovers anyway. Here, hand me the tray.”] 

[“Ah, no. I’ll take care of cleaning up myself.”] 

Despite Akira's protest, Stan gently but firmly took the tray from his hands. 

[“I'm the housekeeper around here, you know. Taking care of guests and cleaning up is part of the job.”] 

With a flashy wink, Stan peered into Akira and Al's faces. 

[“Since we've gotten to know each other, how about a drink? We’ve got beer, tequila, whiskey, wine—anything you want.”] 

Akira shook his head. 

[“…I’ll pass. I don't usually drink much. But thanks for the dinner.”] 

Politely but firmly declining, Akira returned to the room. Though Stan's friendly offer had been met with such bluntness, Akira seemed too tired to accept. Al apologized to Stan and hurt after his unsociable companion. 

Back in the room, Akira was gone, and the sound of water from the shower could be heard. About ten minutes later, Akira emerged, dressed in a bathrobe, roughly toweling his hair dry. Wearing only his pants, he crawled into the sheets. Al took a shower, then came back to the room, surprised to find it completely dark. Akira had turned off the lights even though he knew Al was still in the bathroom. 

Without a word, it was a clear signal that it was time to sleep. Al reassured himself that Akira wasn't ignoring him on purpose—he was just exhausted. Trying to think positively, Al realized that turning off the lights and lying almost naked in bed while waiting was almost like a shy newlywed preparing for their wedding night.

For a brief moment, Al nearly misunderstood, thinking he was being invited, but knowing Akira, that was absolutely impossible. If Al were to guess what Akira was feeling, it would likely be something along the lines of, "Go to sleep already and stop wasting your breath!" That seemed the closest fit. 

Obeying the silent command, Al slid in next to Akira and lay face down, observing the irritable man. Akira frequently shifted, occasionally signaling in irritation. It seemed he couldn't fall asleep. 

Al wanted to snuggle up. He knew if he wriggled closer, Akira would likely get angry and say, "Don't come any closer," but perhaps if he did it unconsciously, Akira might let it slide. Al scooted closer, pretending to roll over, and to his surprise, no complaints came. Feeling Akira's warmth through the blanket, Al pressed his nose against the back of Akira's neck, causing Akira's body to jolt. 

Huh? Al thought. He rubbed his nose against Akira's neck again, and once more, Akira shuddered. When Al, still pretending to be half-asleep, placed a hand on Akira's shoulder, his entire body stiffened more than ever before. Al had slept with Akira many times before, but this was the first time Akira had been this tense. 

After observing him for a while and seeing no signs of Akira relaxing, a realization dawned on Al—maybe Akira couldn't sleep because he was too aware of Al's presence. Finally coming to that conclusion, Al quietly slipped out of bed and headed into the hallway. 

Akira was incredibly aware of him. Something was off. This wasn't like the usual Akira. Had Al done something wrong? He tried to recall if he had accidentally kicked Akira while they were in bed, but nothing came to mind. As he combed through his memories, the scene of him and Akira kissing in the plane's galley suddenly surfaced. It had been a messy mix of blood-sucking, but still, that was unmistakably a kiss. 

Al's ears started to burn. Akira's mouth had been warm, and there was the sweet scent of blood. When it came to give Al blood, Akira had properly kissed him. 

Was Akira embarrassed because of that interaction on the plane? Had the kiss elevated Al from being just some vampire bat to someone worthy of love? If so, that was a little—no, actually, quite exciting. 

Al stopped in the hallway, pondering whether he should press forward or wait and observe. If Akira was conscious of him, now would be the perfect time to make a strong move and push his advantage. However, knowing Akira's personality, there was a high possibility he'd be shoved back with twice the force if he tried. 

He couldn't rush this. If Akira was indeed aware of him, that alone was significant progress. Still, Al couldn't shake the overwhelming urge to return to the room and ask, "Do you like me? Hey, do you? Do you?" But he couldn't picture a scenario where Akira would respond with a simple, "Yes." Even if Akira did have feelings, he would probably be too embarrassed to admit it. 

As Al thought things over, he began to feel that he understood Akira better than anyone. The more he thought, the more excited his mind became. To calm down, Al decided to take a walk in the garden. Just from a quick glance between the gate and the entrance to the house, he could tell the estate was huge, with what looked like a forest in the distance. If he walked around the entire perimeter, the night might pass very well. Even if that was an exaggeration, his night vision was good enough to ensure he wouldn't get lost in the garden. 

Ready for a midnight stroll, Al descended the spiral staircase when he suddenly remembered the incident with the intruder at their Chicago residence. Martha had said the LA house had top-notch security, but if he wandered around the garden at night, he might be mistaken for an intruder himself. Still, unless he did something, he couldn't distract himself from the sweet excitement swirling in his chest. 

Lost in his thoughts, Al passed through the living room and heard the sound of the TV. When he peeked in, he saw Stan lounging carelessly on the sofa. On the low table in front of him, bottles of beer and wine crowded together randomly. 

["Sir, you have a meeting with Mr. Antram from Brigitte Corporation at 2 pm today,"] a voice came from the large TV screen, which displayed a wide office. A secretary with black hair and a black suit was shown from behind. 

["Susan, cancel that,"] the man, presumably the boss, said with a sigh, still resting his chin on his hand. 

["But..."] 

The black-haired secretary's face was shown in close-up. She was quite beautiful. …Al tilted his head. He had seen that face somewhere before. Somewhere…black hair…a beautiful woman… That's it, Ashley! He remembered. She was a friend of Angel's during her acting days, the one killed by the hijacker Giraffe. When he erased Giraffe's memories, Al had caught a glimpse of her in the past. 

["Got it? Good."] 

The image suddenly distorted. 

["Sir, you have a meeting at 2 p.m...."]

The same scene repeated. At first, Al thought it was a malfunction, but after seeing it loop a third time, he realized that it was intentional. 

[“Do you like that actress?”] 

Al spoke up. Stan jumped up with a loud "Whoa!" His startled reaction made Al feel a little guilty. 

[“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”] 

As Al apologized, Stan's tense expression softened. 

[“I thought everyone had gone to bed. Even Martha went to her room, saying her blood pressure was high.”] 

Al starred at the movie screen. Watching something to pass the time seemed less disruptive than taking a walk. 

[“Mind if I watch with you?”] 

[“Go ahead.”] 

Al sat down next to Stan. The movie progressed quietly, and the scene that had been looping didn't appear again. It seemed to be a serious drama about political corruption, but it was so earnest that it wasn't very entertaining. 

[“What’s this movie called?”] 

[“The Conspiracy of the Brave.”] 

Al had never heard of it. Stan, as if reading his mind, offered, [“Want to switch to something else?”] 

[“No, it's fine. You're watching it, right?”] 

[“Yeah, but I already know this movie's boring.”] 

Stan paused the movie. Despite saying it was boring, he had been watching it repeatedly, focusing on the beautiful black-haired secretary. 

[“How about an action movie?”] 

Stan held up a DVD from a famous actor's series and asked. 

[“Sure. Ah, the actress who played the secretary in that last movie—her name's Ashley, right?”] 

Stan turned around, his eyes widening in surprise. 

[“You know Ashley, Al?”] 

…He couldn't tell Stan that he had seen her in the memories of the man who killed her. 

[“Uh, yeah.”] 

Al replied vaguely. 

[“You know, I'm impressed you remembered. She only had small roles, and the secretary part was her only speaking one.”] 

Stan, who had once been an actor himself, could have easily met her somewhere. He let out a thin sigh, clapping his hands together in front of him. 

[“Ashley had talent. If she hadn't committed suicide, she might have become a big star.”] 

[“Didn’t she get murdered?”] 

Al asked, and Stan shook his head firmly. 

[“No, she took her own life.”] 

But Al knew for sure that Giraffe had killed Ashley, and it was Angel, the leader of Peaceful House, who ordered it. 

[“No, Ashley was murdered.”] 

Stan slowly shook his head. 

[“Ashley committed suicide. The police ruled it that way. But... you know, Al, maybe you're right. In a way, she was killed.”] 

Stan wiped the corner of his eye. He wasn't crying, but the redness in his eyes hinted at how close he was. He must have been very close to Ashley, considering how he kept rewatching the same scene over and over. 

[“Talking about Ashley hurts, so I'd like to stop here. ...By the way, Al, how about you? Did you have a fight with Akira?”] 

Al hastily waved his hands from side to side. 

[“We didn’t fight. It's just that, when I'm around, Akira doesn't seem able to relax...”] 

[“Ah, could it be that even though you're not thinking about it, being in the same bed is making Akira all excited, expecting something?”] 

Stan casually remarked. If Akira had heard that, he'd probably shout, “There's no way I'd get excited over him!” in anger. To protect Akira's honor, Al quickly denied it, [“That's not it.”] Stan chuckled softly. 

[“I’m just joking. Akira doesn't strike me as that type. He's good-looking, but I bet he's the kind who'd act all reserved, even in bed. Probably boring.”] 

Stan's sharp-tongued remark made Al widen his eyes in surprise. 

[“Ah, sorry about that. I’ve had quite a bit to drink and got a bit carried away.”] 

Stan grabbed some fries from a paper box on the low table and popped them into his mouth. There was something about Stan that didn't sit right with Al. Despite being at Richard's house, Stan acted as if he were completely at home, free-spirited and relaxed. Yet he didn't neglect his duties, helping out and being kind, even serving as a good conversational partner. 

[“When Richard mentioned that a boy he cherished like a son would be visiting, I pictured someone cheerful and lively. Akira doesn't seem like a bad guy, but he's so cool and aloof. That kind of person must be hard to handle.”] 

Oops, Stan lightly tapped his lips with his finger. 

[“I didn’t mean to speak ill of him. Don’t tell anyone.”] 

Even if he hadn't told Al not to, he wouldn't say anything. Martha and Richard were well aware of Akira's aloofness, yet they loved him dearly. And Akira, too, cared deeply for the two of them. 

[“So, is Akira like that when you're... you know, intimate? Or is he the wild type once you get going?”] 

...Al had no idea. He and Akira had only kissed so far. Al fell silent, and Stan quickly apologized. 

[“Ah, sorry, sorry. I'm really off today. I'm just a little drunk. I guess I got a bit disappointed, meeting a guy who was my type, only to find out he's taken.”] 

Al suddenly remembered how Stan had tried to seduce him by the poolside. If all these comments about Akira were rooted in jealousy because Stan was attracted to Al, then maybe it made a little more sense. Could it be that Al was the type to attract other men? Now that he thought about it, even back in the airport restroom, a muscular man had tried to hit on him. 

[“Besides, if Akira's your type, I'm sure someone like me wouldn't even register on your radar.”] 

Being mistaken for Akira's lover and making someone jealous gave Al a strange sense of satisfaction. Stan's straightforward admission of his disappointment made him seem a bit endearing. 

[“Ah, this action movie isn’t that great either.”] 

Stan got up, changing the subject. 

[“Oh, by the way, Richard has a movie in his collection starring Lily. Want to watch that instead?”] 

[“I don’t mind either way...”] 

[“It might be fun to compare Lily and Akira, don’t you think?”] 

Stan swapped the DVD and handed the package to Al, saying, [“I went with this one.”] The title read Mama Mother. The actress fondly referred to as "Lily" by the industry insiders was none other than Hanae Tamura. Al had seen a few of his films, but this one was new to him. Lily usually played supporting roles, so it was hard to pinpoint any particular film as her defining work. 

The lead in the movie was a young blonde actress with curly hair, the kind that stood up at the bangs. She wore loose, sleeveless T-shirts and skirts that flared out, except for a tight waist, her makeup around her eyes and lips gave off an unmistakable sense of the era. But the blonde actress wasn't particularly good at acting. 

About five minutes into the movie, Lily appeared. Al unconsciously held his breath. Lily and Akira were strikingly similar. He knew that already, but to see them look this alike was shocking. It felt as if Akira himself were standing there, speaking. Not just the appearance—the tone of their voices was the same too. 

In the movie, Lily played a selfish thief who forced the protagonist to take care of a kidnapped child. Her slender figure, small head, black hair, and dark eyes—all these features were reminiscent of Akira. Despite her overall composed demeanor, Lily would occasionally flash an unexpectedly seductive expression. When she smiled, it felt as though Akira was smiling at Al, making his heart race. Compared to the lead actress, Lily left a far stronger impression. She had presence. She was talented. Before he knew it, Al had forgotten about the movie's old-fashioned elements and was completely captivated by Lily. 

As soon as Lily left the screen, the movie became monotonous. It was a blunt but undeniable truth. 

[“I always thought Lily and Akira looked alike, but not this much. Now I get why Richard is so obsessed with Akira.”] 

Stan muttered. 

[“Obsessed?”] Al asked. 

[“Richard's fascination with Lily was well-known among people in the industry at the time. They were dating for a long time, and though Richard wanted to marry her, Lily always refused.”] 

Stan stretched his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers. 

[“If you think about it, Akira being the son of the woman he loved, and looking so much like her, it's no wonder Richard is so attached to him.”] 

From the direction of the entrance came the sound of a door opening with a clatter. Looking at the clock, it was almost eleven pm Footsteps approached, and soon Richard and Henry appeared in the living room. 

[“Al, welcome. I’m so glad you could make it to our home.”] 

Richard spread his arms wide in a welcoming embrace. Al stood up and returned the hug warmly. 

[“Thank you for inviting me… and I’m so glad that you, Martha, and Akira are safe.”] 

At Al's words, Richard's embrace tightened. 

[“Yesterday was truly, truly terrible. Akira was among the last hostages on that hijacked plane… I thought I would lose my mind at the thought of him being killed. I feel so terribly sorry for you too..."] 

Richard's fingers trembled as they held Al's back. 

[“When I heard that everyone made it out alive, I thanked God. You must have been so worried too, Al.”] 

Since he couldn't tell Richard he had been there fighting the hijackers, Al could only nod and say, [“Yes.”] Richard planted a fatherly kiss on Al's cheek before scanning the living room. 

[“Where's Akira?”] 

[“He seemed exhausted, so he's already asleep,”] Al answered, and Richard nodded emphatically. 

[“That makes sense. After what happened yesterday, Akira endured the psychological torment of being a hostage longer than any of us. I heard he also suffered from anemia… Rest is the best thing for him now.”] 

Richard, who had kept his arm around Al's shoulders while talking, noticed something. 

[“Isn’t this Mama Mother? Were you watching a movie?”] 

[“Yes, with Stan…”] Al trailed off as he turned around and exclaimed, [“Huh?”] Stan was nowhere to be seen, though empty bottles of alcohol still crowded the table. 

[“Stan left the living room while you two were talking,”] Henry said, but before he could continue, Richard interrupted excitedly, [“Oh, Lily's about to appear!”] He grabbed Al's hand and sat him down on the sofa . 

[“Mind if I watch with you? It's been a while since I've seen this.”] 

[“It may seem like unnecessary meddling, but if I may say something...”] 

Henry stepped closer to Richard, who had just settled on the couch. 

[“Like Akira, you need rest, too, Richard. Since returning to LA, you barely dropped off your things at the estate before heading straight to the studio, and you've been working non-stop until now. Given what you've been through, physical exhaustion must be catching up to you as well. The movie isn't going anywhere, so how about watching it tomorrow and getting some sleep tonight?”] 

Richard lay down on the sofa with a dramatic sigh, placing a cushion under his head. 

[“I am resting.”] 

[“What I’m suggesting is that you stay in your bedroom, in your bed.”] 

[“Oh, Lily's here!”] 

Henry, who had been nagging moments before, also turned his attention to the screen. There was Lily—alive and radiant, her beauty captivating. And she looked exactly like Akira. Well, more accurately, Akira resembled her, considering the timeline. 

[“No matter how many times I see her, Lily is the most beautiful woman in the world,”] Richard said, his eyes shimmering as though he were dreaming. 

[“I’m so glad she pursued acting. Thanks to that, I can see her in all her glory whenever I want.”] 

Just as Richard's sofa began to creak under him, Henry leaned forward, resting his hands on the back of the sofa, engrossed in the film. 

[“I'd heard Akira looked like Lily, but seeing her on screen, they really do resemble each other. It’s almost as if they’re twins.”] 

Despite all his previous complaints, Henry seemed thoroughly intrigued now that he'd noticed the striking resemblance between the two. He took a seat on the opposite sofa, clearly settling in to watch more.  

Previous TOC Next