Chapter 87

"Anyway, that's enough of that," Blake turned the steering wheel and the grand Weath HQ of Knife Agency made itself known.

I hadn't even noticed the building until he had interrupted my train of thought.

"...How's Felix now?" I asked with concern. It wasn't a good feeling hearing about friends going through that sort of thing.

"Oh, the incident was ages ago. Honestly, Felix is doing way better now and the press had gotten hold of this news and spread it everywhere immediately. Felix received a lot of support from fans and it seemed to better his relationship with them…" He smiled and entered as the gates opened themselves.

I smiled back at him.

"We've obviously made sure to protect our artists even better and it served as a reminder that haters aren't the crazy ones, sometimes it's the fans themselves… But well, things like this aren't that common. Plus… you're a streamer and you have a closer relationship with fans than other celebrities. Usually, fans do these things to attract their idol's attention or just be involved in some way in their life in the way idols have been involved in theirs. Since you interact with fans very frequently it reduces your chances of having these things..."

At my continued silence, his grin grew and his young face cracked a mischievous visage.

"Who knows, maybe Crocodile will instead tell you to wear a maid costume instead of being shirtl—"

I slapped the back of his head, filled with feelings of shame and betrayal that he himself would also joke about that.

"I will not wear a maid costume."

"Payout may be good," he tried convincing me while rubbing the back of his head with a wince.

"Nope."

"..."

"..."

"It'd be good fanservice…"

"No way."

"..."

"..."

"Natsumi would l—"

"Don't you dare go that route."

"Haaa~? Why are you so flustered over that name?"

"N—… I'm not flustered. Just shut up."

"I'm sure she'd like it though."

"Please be quiet."

"Maybe she'd do naugh—"

"Shut your mouth. Stop talking. Die."

"..."

"Shut up."

"I'm not even tal—"

"Die."

…

…

…

A few days later, the shoot.

I shook hands with the staff members for the shoot and immediately sat down to hear the briefing.

Of course, we'd already had an online meeting previously but these were just formalities.

We were inside a building vacant building with many cameras and lights concentrated on a place. It was the background prop for a park-like scenery with a bench where I would sit down.

Hair artists walked over and began brushing my hair around. One of them, familiar to the last time I had shot with Crocodile flashed me a smile.

"Your hair's way better than last time," she remarked.

"Is it?"

"Yep. It's so soft now, I'm almost envious," her hands did not stop at all as she pushed and pulled my hair around.

"Well yeah, I've been having to use special shampoos, gels, creams, and even sprays to maintain this… At one point it was just driving me crazy."

She laughed and patted my hair around.

The makeup artists came over and merely gave me a ruddy tone. The red contrasted against the white of my skin and gave me a very innocent look and a fresh summer look. She then put some products into my eyes and ended up making them look slightly bigger.

Inside my head, I rolled my eyes at the odd beauty standards. Many years ago I would've been bothered at having makeup on my face… it's a weird thought to be so used to it now.

I stood up and again, my clothes were shuffled around as I spread my arms out for better accessibility.

"Alright well, Charlie," the shooting director made her way over to me and pointed towards the set, "let's just practice a little before we begin shooting. Alright?"

I gave her a thumbs up with a smile that she reciprocated and walked to the set.

With way more experience than last time, I stood still and stared at the distance in concentration. A switch turned inside my brain and suddenly my previous cheery disposition changed.

I turned to a more absentminded and pensive character— a student walking on their way to school.

Inside my head, the script began appearing as I pretended to look around the park.

I looked down at the road and walked with tired steps caused by a heavy backpack.

I imagined an old but steady man walking towards me with a smug expression.

'Ah, youngsters these days. Where is all your youthful energy?'

I glanced up from the floor towards him with a perplexed expression, almost as if saying: 'are you talking to me?'

'Yes, you. You… Back in my day…' I rolled my eyes at the imaginary character beginning his long dialogue. 'On my way to school, I'd be forced to walk several kilometers up to the river of my hometown…'

The scenery changed and I was now making my way upstream of a river. Finally, seeing a waterfall, I wiped my brow and began climbing the mountain of the waterfall.

All of this, obviously exaggerated.

The scene changed back to the old man whose monologue showed no signs of stopping.

As the old man talked to himself, I began feeding the dogs being walked in the park. To this, the imaginary dogs licked my face and jumped on me.

The scene changed again to show me running away from bears.

Needless to say, I would not really be running away from real bears…

I was then… hiking a mountain? With no proper equipment? Just… my Crocodile drink and deodorant?

'You youngsters have it so easy these days…' The old man continued as he boasted of his great travels and adventures every single day when trying to get to school.

The scene changes back again to show me being hugged by dogs and sweating from the summer heat.

Now with the smelly dog scent and slight sweat, I would then head to the old man and thank him for his teachings on how the younger generation has it so easy. The old man would then give me a deodorant to spray away the smell of the dogs and the sweat and I would head merrily on my way to school.

As I blinked continuously and got back to the real world, I was still standing in the park background set, sitting on the bench— everything having taken place inside my head.

I'm almost slightly sure some people don't have the ability to get into mental scene recreation that in-depth as well as I just did. Just others benefits I'll gladly pin on the system...

I shook my head groggily and got up with unsteady steps. The staff members were still working on setting the scene as perfectly as could be.

I had practiced a lot over the few days. Finishing this shoot should be… a walk in the park.

…

…

…

Warning, not a walk in the park.

It was a walk through saliva and dirt and fluff.

Caught unaware, the dogs had knocked me down onto the floor and began licking me everywhere as they sat on me. Though the dogs were taken care of, dog breath is still dog breath.

Since I had acted naturally after falling down with the dogs, the shoot had continued smoothly and the director decided she wanted that to be included.

Anyway, the shoot was mainly directed towards young people with a slightly comedic and joking tone. With memes referencing old people exaggerating their walks to school as the base of the shoot, it would surely keep the attention of the audience hooked.

The old man lectured me, the young student, on how they would go through all sorts of crazy trials befitting Hercules's name just to get to school. These were represented by shoots of me performing acts of that scale, except with the assistance of editing. Of course, in the end, there was an extremely cheesy and shameless promotion from the old man as he smiled into the camera and began his 10-second explanation of the product.

"Throughout all sorts of adventures, the smell of Crocodile never leaves."

He would then spray me everywhere with the deodorant and gift it to me, walking away while reminiscing his old days as a youngster.

I would then smell myself, keep the old man's words in my heart (as mentioned in the script), and go running to school with youthful courage.

Overall, it was a pretty fun shoot especially with the dogs and all…

It would only last one minute, but one minute was plenty enough to advertise the product in a fun and engaging way. As an added bonus, they decided to gift me some Crocodile deodorants. Unlike last time where I was unsure of how to deal with the bicycle, they had gifted me, this time I merely took the deodorants with an exchange of smiles.

Today's filming would only be in the park setting. The scenes were just me walking around, meeting the old man, and tumbling around with the doggies while the old man spoke.

Opposite of the character shown in the film, he was very nervous and committed some slight mistakes that always ended in retries.

I do not blame him. Maintaining a character and keeping the same tone and essence of a character while ignoring a camera, obeying the script and slight changes in each shoot, having the constant pressure of messing up and having to retry all over again, keeping a straight face while saying very funny lines... It was hard not to mess up.

No one was upset or unhappy, though.

Also, due to some other equipment errors, the shooting had lengthened considerably.

It was not a very good day for us.

We were finally in the last of today's shoots— many takes of the same scenes had been taken to ensure the director would have the exact facial expressions and flow of the video that she wanted.

"...and cut," the clapperboard cut the scene and the cameras and lights all were taken away from my face.

With a heavy sigh, I lamented the smell of the dog breath that stank on my clothes. Also, I had been slightly unlucky when being struck by the dog and hit my rear end rather pitifully.

Though the shoot was fun, the aftereffects were not.

I decided I would pat the happy-looking dogs with wagging tails one last time before finally going back home.

My plans were interrupted by a blinded vision and warm hands covering my eyes.

From behind, in a singing voice,

"Guess… who~?"

She smelled of sweets, of caramel, of warm coffee. Her small but steady hands reminded me of autumn. The hands that were covering my eyes, turned into an embrace as arms curved around my head and brought me to a shorter height. Her hands were now like a campfire in a homely place. A family gathering at Christmas; a Thanksgiving dinner with friends; the soft tunes of piano jazz in the background of a bar; a soft embrace in a sunset.

"...Definitely my good friend Reed."

I smiled against her hands as she added power to the hug in apparent 'punishment' and 'retaliation' for my wrong answer.

Her hairs tickled my forehead and cheek as I was brought to a height shorter than her. Soft strands smelling of flowers and other sweet odors that invaded my senses.

"...Not my good friend Reed?"

To compensate for my lack of answer at being so flustered and obsessed with the smell of whatever shampoo she was using, I hastily made a very smooth comment.

She moved her hands and now one of her arms covered me. A long sleeve smelling of a nose-invading perfume covered my face and eyes as her other hand moved to softly pat my head.

We moved a few steps as she began lowering and easing me onto a bench.

My bed, a very uncomfortable steel bench. My pillow, very comfortable knees.

Her pats stopped and she transitioned to playing around with my strands of soft hair. Her fingers became soft dribbles into my scalp and her fingertips very skilled scratchers.

Her left knee would come up, and then lower as the right knee came up. My head would be lightly juggled as she chuckled but never stopped the soft caresses.

My head blanked as serenity and peace came over me.

I laid there with a peaceful expression while she maintained my vision black and my body immobile.

It felt so long yet so short. Like memories of a century of sweetness, yet also like a flash of a second, too short to be satisfied.

As addicting as the feeling was, I could not let this go on forever. It was getting slightly late and staying sweetly like this was not very healthy for my soon-to-be diabetic condition.

As I moved my arm to take her arm off and stand up, her pats gently descended to tickle the back of my ear.

With jolts traveling from the top of my head, electrically and carefully making their way down my spine, I slumped my pitiful simpy self right back down.

Her laughter reminded me of spring and the blooming of flowers and the soft breeze of the wind; her amusement of seeing me so easily give up under her touch was completely thrown to the back of my mind.

I laid there and forgot about everything else.

I think I've lost my mind.

Soon, I might suffer from an unbalance in insulin and sugar cells.

Perhaps diabetes won't be so bad if this is the cause.