We arrived several hours later at our destination, having driven through a coniferous forest, where almost no tangible trace of human life appeared. The only permanent fixture on our way was the long strand of power lines running along the road, arcing from wooden pole to wooden pole like a sad Christmas light string left out of season.
I could observe while I was driving, despite keeping my eyes on this isolated road, that the gas stations were rather scarce, but already more numerous than simple houses. Their bright colors contrasted with the dull shades of gray, brown and green that clothed the hills and valleys; attracting the eye even more than if they had been located in an urban area.
In these mountainous areas, people were only passing through, and only stopped by necessity; to take a break during a long journey, or to refuel their vehicle. It was for these very reasons that we had stopped at one of the rest areas; to have a coffee, go to the bathroom, and get gas.
"You take your coffee with that much sugar?" Mr. Nakatsuki had then asked me with a surprised look.
I didn't like the bitterness of the drink at all, and in order to bear the taste, I put four or five pieces of sugar in it; which could indeed disgust some people.
I was even compared to a lucanus at work, although I didn't eat as many sweet things on a daily basis as those horned beetles. Besides, the only reason I forced myself to drink the horrible beverage was to keep myself awake, and nothing more.
Therefore, I felt that if I had to have some, I might as well have it my way. Even if this preference was not really healthy, nor appreciated by others.
My temporary supervisor winced, before dipping his lips into his own coffee, black as a moonless night and as hot as hell. The liquid was so scalding hot that he burned his lips on it and quickly pulled his face away from the cup.
"Eh, it's undrinkable..." Said he while massaging his mouth.
On that point, we were in agreement.
I wondered what could have motivated the owners to create a business here, in a place where clearly, few people passed by during the day or at night. Maybe they liked to be isolated, or maybe they were not so keen on socializing? If the latter was the reason, I envied them a little.
After Mr. Nakatsuki had bought a few packs of senbei for the rest of the trip, he sighed heavily as he imagined that Mr. Chiba would ask him for some Aoyagi Uiro, the sweets that Nagoya was famous for. I wondered if we would be forced to make such a detour on our way, when we were supposed to follow a predefined route plan.
My superior had quickly reassured me that I did not have to follow Mr. Chiba's whims at all, and that sometimes it was more like the latter was thinking out loud, rather than giving me a genuine instruction.
It was true that I had never thought of looking at things from this angle.
Then, the rest of the trip had proceeded in silence, Mr. Nakatsuki having fallen asleep in the front passenger seat, with his head stuck between the headrest and the window.
The van had weaved its way between the hillsides and mountains, up and down the steep stretches of road like a boat caught in great waves and gliding along the surface of the water. It was a smooth, soothing motion that almost made me miss my hometown and its winding roads.
Finally, after having passed Toyone, and having driven for another fifteen minutes, the Onyu guesthouse stood in front of us.
Located on the top of a hill, it offered a clear view of the nearby Midori Lake. The surface of the latter - sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear - and its waters, whose color oscillated between jade and aquamarine, contrasted sharply with the rich shades of green overflowing the forest; reflecting without any visible imperfection the surrounding hills and the cloudy sky to take on emerald and opaline hues.
No doubt in a few weeks, when the foliage of the trees would begin to change color to orange and yellow, the view would become absolutely delightful. But at this time of year, in late summer, its name was quite appropriate.
Several vehicles were already parked in front of the guesthouse, and I recognized the colorful logo of the TV station on a small truck. I couldn't see the car of Master Osagawa, who had planned to drive to us by himself. He didn't really like to be driven, preferring to be behind the wheel from the beginning to the end of the journey. Maybe it was a sign that he liked to be in control.
I was pretty sure that the other two minivans, black and gray, belonged to the singer and the model, who must have been accompanied by their respective agents. As for the other four cars of various sizes and shapes, there was no real clue as to who owned them. Perhaps other customers, or the employees of the place?
However, I didn't have time to wonder more about them, as Mr. Nakatsuki was stirring right next to me. A sign that he was waking up.
"Oh, we're finally here?" He asked with a pasty mouth.
I nodded, and he began to look around, absorbing the beautiful view around us.
"It's so pretty... I'll probably have to come back with my wife sometime..." He observed aloud.
I didn't even know he was married, and given the short time he was present at the office, I surely wasn't the only one who thought he was still single. Therefore, I was wondering what his wife might look like, when he said something strange.
"It's a real shame, though."
"A shame?" I repeated, frowning.
He took the time to stretch, then to unbuckle his belt before answering me.
"Yes, it's a pity that this boarding house is known to be haunted."
Haunted? It was the first time I had heard of it.
Maybe I seemed a bit lost by this information, because quickly, Mr. Nakatsuki added an essential precision.
"Nobody told you? They're going to shoot a paranormal show in this shack," he said in a detached tone.