I was at a loss for words.
Maybe it was my imagination, but Rhea (and Cordelia) wouldn't let me ask any questions . . . because I'd be tempted to open another topic, and that topic might add pressure on me. Maybe I was overthinking things. Cordelia just did us a favor by ending Rhea's endless chatter.
Well, it didn't matter.
"So . . . does Lord Dylan like stargazing?"
Now that topic caught me off guard. I looked at Cordelia, embarrassed. "It's . . . that obvious, isn't it? I gave myself away."
"Mm-hm! I'd been wondering what made Lord Dylan so interested in Astronomy." She tilted her head in thought. "Is there a connection?"
"Well, stargazing led me to read about Astronomy, then Astrology, and then it just inspired me to write a song called Ocean of Stars. It's a piano arrangement accompanied by jazz instruments. Slow tempo. Soft melody. Seductive vocals . . ."
"Oh! I clearly remember Lord Dylan bringing his electric keyboard and setting it up in the living room's corner. Do you play like a professional pianist?"
"Sadly, I'm not a professional. Just enough to play around with the notes until I find the perfect melody." I played the song in my head and thought of a simple example for Cordelia. "Imagine you're in a sophisticated bar. Cozy ambience. Classy vibe. Glasses tinkering. Nobles chattering away. At the center stage, the band and pianist are playing smooth and relaxing jazz music. You can easily count the number of times the pianist has pressed the keys."
"Ocean of Stars already sounds romantic. I'd love to hear Lord Dylan sing it one day!" She smiled sweetly, making my cheeks warm.
"Of course. I can sing it for you and to everyone."
"I can't wait! Maybe we can sit around a bonfire and gaze at the stars with everyone? I know the perfect place to recommend and— oh! Is Lord Dylan able to stay up late at night?"
Cordelia's enthusiasm tickled my funny bone. She wasn't even hiding her desire to know more about me.
"I'm able to stay up late until 1AM," I said, shifting my gaze towards the star-filled galaxy. I was beginning to feel nostalgic. "Stargazing became a hobby the moment I pursued the world of entertainment. The night acts like a tranquil lullaby to my tired soul and mind after a long hard day at work or practice."
Memories of the past replayed in my head, starting from the moment I got inspired by a top male singer's mesmerizing performance at the age of ten. Without hesitation, I asked my mom to enroll me in two classes: dance and vocals. Then I self-studied guitar and piano. She was very supportive of my dreams.
Stepping into music school as a first-year, I joined a theatre troupe to help with planning the production process and organizing the stage. I was a perfectionist boy who wanted to do everything that he could to improve and learn as much as he could handle.
I had spent my whole teenage years being a good student while joining singing contests, survival dance shows, and auditioning in entertainment agencies just to be in an idol group. I don't like the happy-go-lucky and forced-to-act-cute concepts. Pop, rock, jazz, EDM, R&B/Soul, hip-hop, and rap were my styles (but I still couldn't escape the cute fanservice-filled concepts due to my company's orders).
Funny thing to say, the hard work and exposure landed me a lead acting role in my own Rom-Com drama (that I don't want to ever mention to Cordelia and Rhea). It's best to bury it in my memories—forever.
Entering adulthood made me realize that I was better off as a solo singer than being in a group. I didn't like having limitations and restrictions. I couldn't fully develop my potential as a musician. So, after finishing my five-year contract, I left my previous company at the age of twenty-three. Then I built my own studio, went solo with my music style, and became a worldwide superstar within a year.
Then I died at the age of twenty-five.
Nice.
"Being an idol . . . what's it like for Lord Dylan? Is it a tough career?"
Cordelia motioned me to walk with her. While I thought of an answer, she brought me to a wide street lined with merchants selling food, clothes, and accessories.
"Hmm . . . there is no such thing as an easy career. Every job is tough. Being an idol is tough . . . maybe one of the toughest. You have to be mentally and emotionally prepared for criticisms, haters, and online bullying from thousands of people."
"Did Lord Dylan experience all of them?"
I nodded. "As soon as I flew solo in the entertainment industry, the crazy paparazzi managed to expose my private life and spread fake scandals every month all for the sake of money and erasing me from the top celebrity list."
"W-What?" She gasped softly. "Fake scandals?"
"Ridiculous news like buying drugs, fixing my face to look incredibly handsome, getting three women pregnant from a one-night stand, mistreating my staff, stealing someone else's music . . . depression got this face thin like a zombie." I sighed in frustration.
Cordelia was saddened to hear about my horrible experiences and decline in health. She must have never thought of me neglecting myself. Thinking of a way to make her laugh, I sandwiched my face with my hands to look like a fish, and it worked. She laughed merrily while holding her stomach.
"Lord Dylan! What are— What are you doing?"
"You were making a sad face! Don't give me that look."
"Alright, alright. I won't." She calmed down after a bit, then she wiped her tears away. "How long did it take for Lord Dylan to recover? I can't imagine the pain and suffering you must have dealt with those evil humans."
Evil humans? Cute and savagely true.
"About three months and a half." I shrugged. "I looked like a withering rose dying in my own pot, but I'm very grateful that my team, the dancers, and musicians were all there to water me with love. They assured me that I could halt my activities while Ms. Yul took care of the issues. She never stopped filing lawsuits until the paparazzi got what they deserved."
"How about those evil humans? They had made slanderous comments behind the screen . . . ."
"Same as the paparazzi. They got tracked down and punished accordingly. For students, I made them write a letter of apology and serve six months of community service while the adults were either imprisoned for six months to two years or given a fine ranging from 10,000 to 100,000 depending if the slander was minor or major." I shook my head in disappointment. "We have the freedom to express our opinions and ideas as long as our intention is not to cause harm to others. If there's evil intent, then you're abusing your freedom of speech."
Cordelia was looking at me with pure admiration, mouth covered, and the backdrop was sparkling in my imagination. I wasn't sure what she was thinking.
"Justice is served then," she said, putting a hand over her chest in relief. "I admire Lord Dylan for seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. It is not a walk in the park for everyone."
"I did. I should. I must." I watched a muscular guy delivering a basket of fruits to a female fruit vendor. He was paid a good price for the fruits and he walked off wearing a pleased smile. "You need to think of the people working behind the scenes who are helping you to fulfill your dreams. They have a family to feed and expenses to pay. I always make sure to pick myself up, do my best at work, and give my fans a phenomenal stage. They are all waiting for me . . . holding on to the words that I promised to them."
"What is that promise?"
"I will never leave their side." I tried to hide the pain in my voice. "Promises are meant to be broken in my situation, huh? Ah . . . how ironic."
Judging by the pitiful look on Cordelia's face, she wanted to offer words of encouragement. But our chatting session was cut short when a demi-human kid with short orange hair, orange ears and a fluffy tail ran into my long legs. She fell butt-first to the ground.
Cordelia and I were shocked. I tried to pick up the small kid when she grabbed my arm. I stared at her tear-stained face as she cried out loud:
"Mister! Help me, please! You have to help me!"
"Okay, okay," I replied in a tender tone. "Calm down, sweetie. Help you with what?" I knelt on the ground and leveled her eyes. I think she was around three or four years old. "Are you lost?"
"No! I'm not lost!" She was crying buckets of tears. "Please, hide me! I don't want to be taken to—"
"There you are, you little troublemaker!"
"Wah! Lemme go!"
The kid was plucked out of my grasp. A dark-skinned man, who looked like a desert dweller, had round black ears protruding from his green headwrap. He was gasping heavily for air and looked worn out. Should I be concerned or wary of this man?
"Is she your daughter?" I stood up, staring coldly into his eyes.
He moved his long black tail that looked stiff in every wag. "Why, yes! She's my biological daughter—"
"I don't know you, you bad man!" The kid flailed her arms and kicked her feet on the ground. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I wanna go home!"
"Shareena! Behave!" the man snarled. He carried his wailing daughter over his shoulder like a sack of rice. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't embarrass me in front of others! If you won't behave right now and do as I say, we will never go home. I thought you like cheese cupcakes?"
The kid named Shareena blew her cheeks and held back her cries. She calmed down in an instant and let herself dangle free, defeat even, on his shoulder. I didn't like what I was sensing from this man. Cordelia seemed suspicious too, but we could be wrong.
The man produced a low growl and said, "I'm sorry for the trouble that my young one has caused you. We're on our way to my tribe's homeland but she hates the idea of going out in the desert and mingling with other people. Haha!" His thunderous laughter sounded fake. "We have a long journey ahead so . . . we'll be on our way now! Sorry again!" He repeatedly bowed and left in a hurry.
"Is he from a cat race? That man didn't even let me start a conversation." I cupped my chin in thought, analyzing his dialogue and the incident just now. "How about that kid?"
That kid, Shareena, didn't seem like she hated mingling with other people. Why did she run up to me and ask for help? Or could she be in a tight spot?
"He's a black leopard from the black panther species. They are an elusive race. That child, however, is a nine-tailed fox. They prefer living alone or with their family." Cordelia explained, which crossed out my suspicion. But I still had my doubts. "And if I may . . . I advise that Lord Dylan mustn't involve himself. You have not mastered your power and abilities."
The messy incident with the Ripper Dragon popped into my head. She must have sensed that I was considering sticking my nose into that black leopard's business. I wouldn't. I was fully aware of my thoughts and actions this time.
"Relax. I won't go berserk and chase after them," I said, moving closer to her. "That man's behavior is suspicious. I'm just concerned for that child."
"That man is, undoubtedly, showing abnormal behavior. If something were to happen to that child, we can report it to the authorities."
"Let's hope nothing bad happens to—"
"Oh my! Did I miss a juicy gossip?" Rhea suddenly appeared behind me. I nearly threw up my hands, and she just laughed at me. "My, my, my! I didn't expect that Lord Dylan could be so jumpy!"
"Don't sneak on us like that! What if I accidentally punched you?" I really thought that man decided to come back and claw my throat out. "Anyway, how did Ms. Yul's blood consumption go?" I changed the subject.
"Oh, she did great!" Rhea clapped her hands. "She nearly sucked that poor man dry! You should have seen everyone's panic-stricken face!"
"What?" I was horrified. "Where is she?"
"I almost got charged with murder. What's so great about that?" Ms. Yul was dragging her feet towards us, looking miserable. "I didn't expect that drinking blood can be so . . . addicting and sweet," she said, standing by the raven's side.
"At least both of you survived. No harm done, yes?" Rhea patted her back. "He knew the consequences. Don't be so blue, my dear! You will learn to control your thirst next time."
Ms. Yul held Rhea's shoulders and gently shook her. "It. Was. Embarrassing! I'm used to filing lawsuits against someone for Dylan, not the other way around!"
"Oh, calm yourself now. Your heightened emotions are making you so dramatic and paranoid!" She dusted Ms. Yul's hands off her shoulders. "Practice control with me. Breathe in. Breathe out. Do it, Yullie!" Rhea began twirling her hands.
"I'm dead, remember? I don't breathe anymore," Ms. Yul said in a monotone. She looked more miserable than before.
"Oh, oops? I mean— don't breathe! Just . . ."
Leaving these two alone together felt like a nuclear bomb-in-the-making. So, I beckoned to Cordelia, begging her to lead the way to our last destination before this vampire and raven could give me a real heart attack.