"Who are you for us to believe that, Mr. Wilson?" After asking the mysterious man, Wilson, the line from the phone beeps with an eternal buzzing like bees ringing in my ear.
Upon looking at the screen, the black monitor greets my orbs, with a vibration accompanying afterwards. My hands grip the gadget with intense strength, dubious about what is happening to us. If this man claims to be someone else that knows Nickson, our life will be over.
As time passes by, we continue doing our tasks inside the student council room. The work for us officers involves signing the documents, fixing the schedule, and monitoring the funds we need for the upcoming field trip next two weeks. Unfortunately, we have not talked about anything with our peers, so we leave that matter for later.
If I can recall correctly, the last time we talked was around three days ago, when we finished our tasks. Until now, we have made no progress at all.
If this is a game, Roxanne and I feel severely lacking in our relationship with our fellow members.
The short black arrow of the clock hits four, showing all of us it is already our dismissal time. Every student who hears the bell dashes straight outside, probably going to the nearby karaoke or ramen shop opening downtown.
The two of us plan to visit that ramen shop after this Nickson problem falls out. In the meantime, we have no other choice but to fetch our vice-president out and help him with his brotherly relationship.
"I would bet that his brother left him because of his attitude," I tell myself and, afterwards, feel a sharp pain in my shoulder blades.
"Quit it, Yuki," Roxanne exclaims as she pushes me forward, back to the Clock Hotel. "That joke is off limits!"
It has been thrice-no, maybe the fourth time we have visited this damn place. Upon gazing at the building, the same clock tower welcomes my eyes. But all I could think of right now is pure hatred, wanting to ravage this school using my writing skills. I almost feel like memorising the streets and making this my new home beside the school.
If I have the time, I will make this hotel burn into the ground inside my novel.
"How long are we going to wait for this Wilson or some event to show up, my dear best friend?" I stomp my feet and shuffle my head, only to find the arrogant, bad boy yet kind to women dressed like a waiter.
"Don't look at me! I did nothing wrong!" Roxanne pleads with her arms rising skywards. She looks at the side and notices the man already leaning in front of our faces.
"It is your idea, Roxan-,"
"Well, hello there, ladies! A pleasure to meet you here, Roxanne and Yuki." The man gestures his hand and introduces his crude existence. If this man had not shown himself to me earlier, I would have punched his face for scaring us.
I will punch his face the next time he does that. That introduction is not even Korean-like, dammit!
"We meet again, old friend," Roxanne, who is never running out of reference, says a line that might get the two of us both in trouble. However, like a running cloud, she fears nothing but to interact with everyone.
"Ittai, Yuki!" A Japanese word comes out of her mouth as I jostle her bottom. Roxanne afterwards rubs her butt, hoping that my smack has left no bumps or marks on her skin.
After glaring at me for five seconds, my best friend averts her gaze and scrutinises the slightly old man from our age.
I think Roxanne has fallen in love with this man.
"Come to think of it. We have not heard your name yet." I form a thinking pose as I recall every scene that we have interacted with this lad.
We do not know what exactly we are looking at with the guidance of Wilson, but this, the man before us, might give us a lead. Who knows, right? He may be the answer we have been looking for all this time.
"I am Sung-ho Park, a Korean. People call me Sung, but that does not matter anymore." He brushes his hair from the back. Upon surveying his face, he feels nervous being near with the two of us.
It is at this moment my brain hits me with something. That unidentified object hurls me like a flying saucer. But the thought never comes out inside of my cave, feeling like a tsundere and refusing to express its ideas. (Tsundere is a Japanese term for a character development process that describes a person who is initially cold before gradually showing her or his soft side)
If you forget about it, then it is not something important.
By the looks of Roxanne, she wants to ask the origin of his story. She seems really interested in the guy that has a villain face for a man.
I get the entire idea of why women fall in love with bad boy-men, but, you know, many items do not work out. But I have not experienced that thought, not even once, and I never plan to do it. If the man I love appears, then he strikes the door open and offers me chips.
"We saw you yesterday and hit the man." I cut him some slack while asking him a straightforward question. If we want to understand his attitude, now is the right time to tell him that.
Roxanne and this hunky man must know the circumstances we have seen from that previous event. I cannot let my best friend fall into the trap of falling in love with a handsome man with no personalities. If she plans to date a man, that guy should get along with me first!
I nod to myself as we converse on the topic. Those two pesky eyes keep staring at me and think to themselves that I have finally lost my wits.
Sung-ho clears his throat and continues the conversation. "Do you want to hang out inside the Clock Hotel?"
His hands extend to us, specifically to Roxanne, who seems dazed. With the pinkish hue covering her cheeks, she accepts his offer and goes inside the hotel, leaving me alone outside.
"I am not paying for this, Roxanne." I scuffle to myself and enter the extravagant hotel, with the clients and rich people inside.
Following in their footsteps, I notice a few customers are avoiding my gaze. It almost feels that someone has staged the scenes.
As we go through the red carpet, we pass by the restaurant days ago. I stop for a while and look at the sign, checking if Sung-ho is still guiding us somewhere safe and not to a love room.
As the setting unravels me, there is a cafe on the second floor of the hotel. Who places a coffee shop on the second floor instead of on the first floor? However, nobody can give me a concrete answer right now as the three of us sit in the circular, comfy chair.
A defeated sigh escapes my mouth as Roxanne, with the guy next to him, orders a Kitkat milkshake. It is the trend that Japanese people love, according to my knowledge. My mouth secretes juices upon watching them slurp the beverages, wanting to taste such an extraordinary drink.
"How about for the fine woman with the cherry-looking lips?" The woman serving the drinks gives me a wink as she bizarrely compliments me and my pursing lips.
"I will have what they have," I give her a reply in Japanese. It is a good practice for me, since I have been working on my Japanese for the following days. Now that I have gotten the hang of it, using it once or twice a day would not hurt my pride.
You know what they say, use it, so you do not lose it.
"Wow! You are pretty good with your Japanese, Yuki." Sung-ho, the Korean guy, could not help himself but toss me yet again at another flattery.
"Thank you." Upon receiving my reply, the waitress slides down the glass in my direction.
The layers of ice twirl like the snow, charming me and my tongue for a slurp. Even the crinkles of a cut off chocolate bar are enough to allure my senses, only to find my hands already gripping on the cup. As the chunks of ice enter my body, my tongue leaves me frozen with delight, melting and chilling my brain repeatedly.
"Brain freeze." I chuckle for a moment as I wiggle my body to counter the freezing meal inside of me. After a few seconds, I gulp the milkshake and stir the contents once more, this time with a smile carving on my face.
"The milkshakes are in the house," the server mentions and gives us a wink.
"Why the kind gesture?" I propose, unsure what we have done to make her charge our drinks for free.
"Nothing. I just felt like giving those three milkshakes for free." The woman adds and resumes fixing the cabinets by wiping each glass with a white towel.
The environment soothes our ears as we listen to the tune of Japanese modern songs of Radwimps playing in the background. Roxanne and I soon reminisce about the thought of that one anime we watched during our childhood days, succumbed inside our room. The song keeps playing through our ears as we reminisce about the past.
"Remember the time I wrote that first novel?" I scooch over to my best friend and meet her gaze.
"Of course I do! Oh, oh, remember that time when we watched that scene from Death Note?"
"Yeah! It was worth the watch!"
Our conversation goes miles away as we bury ourselves with the remnants of our childhood. We might have forgotten someone, as the man that calls himself Sung-ho drinks his glass peaceful on the other side of the chair after squeezing me between their space.