The conversation with Sung-ho never ceases to stop me. He leaves a snicker from his trail as the Korean server descends the steps of stairs. Each thump of his foot brings a heavy pulse radiating inside my body, making me feel a burden about something. But I cannot sense this eeriness in my heart as I glance around for the last time to see his shadows drifting apart.
I want to learn more about him since this is a part of my job as a secretary. Finding a way inside his mind means becoming closer to the mangaka. Although my body shakes for that thought piercing inside my head, I cannot help but deem this situation necessary for Nickson to return inside the council.
It is just a matter of time before the two former officers catch and kick him out of his position. Many students would cheer and march their way when that time comes. I hate to admit this, but he has done a fine job before these things happen before.
After leaving that bar, we take off on the roads and return home with weary eyes and dry faces. I slam my bag on the bed, lunge on my chair, and open my laptop. No matter how hard I shuffle my skull, the thought never leaves my head.
"It has always been Nickson!" My hands find their way to the uncombed strands of my hair, still skyrocketing outwards from my scalp.
"Nickson! Nickson! Nickson! Nickson!" The repetitive words strangle me like a ghost, haunting me forever inside my cave. "It has always been him!"
The blank page feels long to me every time I glue my eyes on the screen. I could not type the words that I want to write, and not a single idea comes to mind. As my head darts from the side, I discern the clock ticking for eternity, notifying me of the deadline drawing near.
"You need to write now before regretting procrastinating later," Roxanne squeezes her body on the bed and turns the gaming console again for the paramount of time.
Despite her warnings, my body poses like a statue, with my hands sticking on the keyboard and mouse. The problem surfaces on top of my head every time I attempt to write the draft of the chapter, disrupting my focus.
"I do not know what to write!" With the grimmest of expressions, I toss and turn my body and pounce onto my bed, but hit my best friend during the process.
"Ittai!" A grunt escapes from Roxanne as she twirls away to safety. "Watch where you are throwing yourself, you idiot!"
The game in her hands crashes, restarting her back to the level she has once defeated. Roxanne, uncertain what to feel, rolls herself once more off to the ground.
"File corrupted. New save data ready to launch," An automated voice rings inside our ears, notifying the player holding and controlling the game.
I do not care about the game despite owning the console, considering there is a problem that I need to solve. Regardless of the time I have spent in front of my laptop, I could not figure out the correct sentences for my book. The face of the Nickson, the younger Korean guy, with his gloomy look appears in my eyes.
Every time I hit a panel obstructing my creativity, I stroll the town and visit places and chart them on my map. It does not need to be in a different location. All I want is an environment for me to exert my stress outdoors and take a refresh inside my head.
I open the closet and choose a simple dress without attracting much attention from the public. Upon fiddling the hangers, my hands rest on the specific clothes that I want to wear.
A cherry-coloured dress suits me more than any other clothes I can find inside my dresser. The skirt flutters away with the air conditioner turned on, revealing my peach stockings covering my skin.
"I am going out for a bit." Once I put my sandals on my feet, I race outside and slam the door behind me.
Roxanne dashes straight towards the door to catch me. But I am already far behind the building, wandering on my own under the night sky.
I turn around at my house for the last time, checking if I have the tools that I need to record my sightings. Upon gazing at the windows, I discern Roxanne with her tongue out on the glass, glaring daggers from where I stand. She might have felt dejected after leaving her alone inside my room without warning her. But these events happen once in a while every time I experience the writer's block inside my head, screaming for something unique.
As I take another foot forward on the road, I feel something vibrating inside my pockets. With my hands reaching out for my phone, a new message pops out from my screen that comes from a familiar name.
{Bring me something to eat! You will pay for leaving me behind, meanie!}
A grin escapes my mouth as I return my phone inside my patch and ready myself once again to leave. After taking a few steps on the streets, my eyes peer through the vibrant colours of the building. It is presently night time, and the world around me changes as if it says otherwise.
The brilliant lights flickering from the chochins dangling in front of the stores and restaurants welcome my eyes. I have only seen these ember-like lanterns in the mimesis of a festival back in the United States of America, so seeing this first-hand makes the entire journey worthwhile.
I proceed forth and meet with the ripe smell of Hakkaisan sake filling the air. It is the most well-known sake from Niigata prefecture and tastes like heaven in both warm and chilling temperatures. However, for my nostrils, it is far too different from the ones back home. I have not tried drinking any alcohol before-despite being fourteen years old I know how it tastes from a sip in a glass.
Nobody forced me to drink the shot glass. When I was a kid, I found it on the table and urged myself to try it out. Once the liquid slid through my throat, I coughed the content out and puked all my dinner.
I have tried nothing as far as close to alcohol. But I can gulp a bottle of root beer since it is only, but not limited to, alcohol-free carbonated drinks.
As I peer through the insides, a recognisable figure enters my view. Much to my surprise, I find Nickson sitting at the far end of the table, apart from the adults drinking their wine. Upon looking in front of the Korean guy. I have found a bottle of Soju with a low alcohol content that is not enough to get you drunk rolling on the wooden plank.
But that situation tells me differently as I discern Nickson's head and bang it on the board, mumbling to himself about something that I could not hear.
"Look who is here." I sit beside the drinking Nickson and ask the bartender for a drink, knowing that he needs a company of some sort this late at night.
But the server studies my figure, looking confused about a high school girl sitting at an Izakaya-an informal Japanese bar that serves alcoholic drinks and snacks. We have one of these bars in my country, but those stalls also limit teenagers like us from going inside.
"You are not allowed in this place." Like a cue from a director, I snap my fingers and expect the words coming out from the bartender. But without having signs outside, youths like us could enter and even order drinks inside these bars.
This district is for tourists spots, bringing with them their children once in a while. I know bars are not a haven for little kids, but parents nowadays do not have spare time to leave their sons and daughters inside the place, especially when they are outside discovering the world. All the bars must refrain from selling drinks from teenagers since they are still illegal to consume this substance.
"I will have a root beer, please." With my continuous persuasion, the server gives in and slides me a can of A&W root beer, cold and not stirred.
"As the bartender said, you should not be here, Yuki," the dazed mind of my comrade, Nickson, utters. He bends his head towards my direction and xertz the remaining glass of the icy beer.
"One more, my good man." The bartender reluctantly gives Nickson another Hakkaisan on the table, with the paper money sliding down as his payment.
Nickson reaches out for the alcohol and fills his glass and burns his throat with its content. Once he finishes, he exhales a sigh and returns from being a mindless zombie, with nothing to think about his life.
"I talked with Sung-ho,"
"Who cares about my brother," Nickson interrupts my sentence showing no hint of interest in my story. I raise a question mark atop of my head, wondering what makes him feel that way.
"We are talking about your brother here!" I shout.
All the clients surrounding us give me an anxious look, with murmurs accompanying their gaze. But with one sweep of my hand, they all withdraw their gawk and continue with their business.
"Do you even plan on visiting our school and do your priorities? All you have done is to sit around, hoping that we can catch you from downtown. Roxanne and I are filling up your role as the absent vice-leader as officers of the school!"
A growling voice comes out of my mouth as I feel the warmness of my face. I know that I have drawn the line and attract unwanted attention from the environment. But Nickson has left me with no other choice but to scowl at his actions! With all the unfinished paperwork in our office, we do not know what to do anymore!
"The officers are suffering because of you wandering around. Do your job well, or-,"
"Or what?" Nickson, as the man I know, stands and snarls.