I watched as the dreaded mansion came to view: its evil yellow lights glowing under the dark orange sky; its many towers, standing there, erect with pride.

We turned the corner, past a few browning trees on the roadside and finally, I saw we had reached the parking area beside the giant building; floored, furnished with white marble – from Italy. The car stopped — and I could almost hear the faintest of a crack from just below me.

a click and I saw my manager got out of the front seat. I watched him through the tinted window glass. He glared at me though I could see nothing through his shades. The door clicked open and instantly: I felt his strong, godforsaken grip return to my poor left arm. He dragged me across the lot, to the inumbrated building — and in-front of him when we finally reached the front door.

I gulped.

He pushed me in with disregard to my not being prepared; I splatted face-first on the hard wooden door as I made to be the tool for its opening. When I finally felt it had gone, I took a moment to recover before opening my eyes, saw in-front of me the array of colours: of the Vocaloids, all in their official clothing, dressing as if this were some sort of depressing welcome party... They all looked quite upset, and for once, I wasn't enjoying it.

"Tch..." Miku spat, "he's back."

Rin groaned, "Ugh..." rolled her eyes, and the others followed suit. Meiko, Luka, and Kaito.

Miku stepped forward, stylish in her saunter, "Just go to your room and get—" she pointed to my comfy clothes and made a wry, twisted face, "this thing changed. Then we'll talk about your—reconciliation."

I nodded and did as she told, but was sure to leave them with a disdainful look. A smile would have been mocking – they knew as much as me how much I hated this – and I did not want to deal with the consequences of it just yet.

I sighed and turned the flaking gold-plated knob, entered my room, smelled the fresh stale air and saw that: except for a few misplaced books and pens, nothing had changed from when I last left it. My bed was still undone, the bin was still quite full, and I still had a couple few clothes lying on the floor, untouched.

I walked in my closet, changed to a rugged designer's attire, then stayed in my room, quiet. I had no intention of facing them just yet, and I was perfectly content in there, just reminiscing the fading moments, memories of my stay in Shukijin, with Oliver. It was certain; after that stunt I had pulled, they would lock me under titanium bars and shackled chains; highest security to ensure none of this would ever happen again.

There's no way to escape now... at least... not if I'm alone.

For a moment, in the darkness, I saw a faint image, an apparition, of Oliver: crying, upset, alone... then he saw me — his tears slowed, and his lips gradually formed a little smile... then it shattered in the effect of my shrill sister's call, "Len! What are you doing in there?! You should be done by now!"

I groaned in the safety of my solitude and got up, I felt light pierce through my eyes as I opened the door... Who left the brightness on high?! Waiting outside were Rin and Miku, tapping their fingers, wearing on them their disfigured faces, impatient much?

"Come on!" Miku hastened me—hastily, "we'll tell you over dinner."

＊＊＊

I sat down beside Rin and Kaito. It was the only acceptable choice. A gentleman must keep himself from any temptation, they said. Now if only the producers would also adhere to that expectation—nuff said.

"Len..." Miku started, tapping her white handkerchief lightly on her mouth precisely thrice as she spoke, "There will be some changes to your public image as of your return in the upcoming concert."

I nodded. "I'm listening."

Surely it can't get any worse...

"You are to publicly date Rin." She stated without a shred of emotion – not even the slightest hint of sorry, pity was present in her tone, "And you are to state that the reason for your, " she twisted her face once more, "act", she spat, "was that you were romantically frustrated."

I stared at her with my mouth agape, hanging, presently trying to understand what the actual fuck just happened.

No, surely she's kidding... right?

She seemed to notice my struggle to understand the situation; so she clarified, mockingly, "it's quite trivial, Len. The fans ask for it, we deliver."

Trivial it was, for a person whose only goals were money and fame. But sane?—it was not.

After the last person had finally finished their meal, I retired to my room to end the day early, to dread the ticking seconds to the day I would perform... December 21.

But, I still thought myself lucky. I had just missed Magical Mirai, the worst of the worst concerts – and I'm not even exaggerating here – the epitome of my despair.

I chuckled lightly as I fell back on my bed. It wouldn't be for another three months that I would need to go on-stage again, Surely I can set it aside for now...

But those five months with Oliver felt so short...

...

Oliver...