Whitmore Hotel, Tokyo branch.
A luxury palace for tourists and travelers in the heart of the city, all gleaming marble and gold accents that screamed wealth.
Ambassadors and other high-ranking officials often rested here during their stays in Japan, their motorcades lined up like a parade outside.
"Philip, we have arrived," Lucas stated as he gently brought the car to a stop in front of the grandiose entrance, the wheels crunching softly against the pristine driveway.
A few hotel staff in crisp uniforms were waiting outside in a perfectly straight line alongside Emily Whitmore, who had arrived long ago and was pacing back and forth anxiously.
"My dear son," Emily immediately rushed over to Philip the second he stepped out of the car, her heels clicking rapidly against the pavement.
She cupped his cheeks in both hands, her fingers gentle but insistent as she inspected his facial features with the scrutiny of a doctor examining a patient.
Philip's messed-up hair sticking out at odd angles and his bloodshot, reddened eyes made her heart physically ache in her chest.
She quickly smoothed down his hair with her fingers, fixing every strand that dared to be out of place, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
"My poor boy, look at how thin you are."
"Did you not feed him anything? Look at his wrists, they might snap at any moment," Emily grabbed Philip's hand and lifted it up dramatically, showing it to Lucas like it was evidence in a court case.
"Stop, Mom. I ate well. The food here just didn't have as many calories as we did back home."
"Which means it's healthy," Philip said with a tired sigh, gently pulling his hand back.
Philip was somewhat used to this routine by now.
It was a habit of Emily's to blame others when it came to Philip's well-being, even when the root cause was clearly her son's own choices.
Dad once told Philip that she was a great mom but not the best parent.
And Philip agreed with that assessment. She was a good person overall... once she cooled down, that is.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry about Derrick. I came as soon as you called," Emily's voice softened, her hand moving to squeeze his shoulder.
"Your father said he wanted to come as well, but he had a meeting to conduct."
"He said he could attend the funeral," Emily briefed Philip as they entered the hotel, their footsteps echoing in the vast, ornate lobby with its crystal chandeliers hanging like frozen waterfalls.
"I told you, you didn't have to come. We'll be leaving for Connecticut three hours from now," Philip said quietly.
"I even told Ava and her parents that they didn't need to come."
The hotel manager—a slim man in an impeccable suit—personally guided them to their rooms on the upper floors, practically bowing with every other step.
"But how could I not? Derrick is family to all of us," Emily said, her voice firm as they stepped into the elevator.
"And I know how much it hurts you, so don't act so tough. I'm your mother. I can easily see through that facade."
"Now go and rest. I'll wake you up at departure," Emily said before placing both hands on his back and physically pushing him into one of the rooms, shutting the heavy door in his face with a soft click before he could protest.
The room was a presidential suite, a massive space with a white-themed living area spread out before the bedroom. Everything was pristine and untouched, like a photograph from a luxury magazine.
Philip slowly made his way towards the bed, dragging his feet across the plush carpet like they were made of lead, each step requiring more effort than it should.
He had no energy left in his arms, which hung limply at his sides. His head felt like it was about to fall off his shoulders, too heavy to hold up anymore.
He crashed down on the bed backward, his body bouncing slightly on the soft mattress, and stared up at the pristine white ceiling above him.
'So this is how you go, huh.'
'Up until I left the hospital, I still hoped that this was all a bad dream and that I would wake up beside your bed with you alive and making stupid jokes.'
'And now I know,' Philip thought as he raised his hand up towards the ceiling, staring at it like it held some answer.
'If only I knew you were going so suddenly, then I would've at least asked Ava and your mother to see you one last time.'
When Derrick was first diagnosed with the tumor and flew to Japan, the only thing Derrick had asked Philip was not to let his parents and sister accompany him and stay with him in Japan.
Derrick knew the chances of full recovery were slim to none.
The chances of him dying were almost certain, a ticking clock he couldn't stop.
He didn't want his family to see him wasting away in a hospital bed for months on end. That would only make it harder for them to move on once he was really gone.
The same reasoning applied to Philip, but Philip was too stubborn to accept it, so Derrick had given up trying to convince him.
When Philip asked Derrick's parents not to visit Derrick at his request, they had agreed easily, too easily.
"Thank you for all you've done for him. We know he's in good hands with you," they'd said, their voices thick with unshed tears.
"And Ava..., how will she react to it?" Philip covered his eyes with his hand, pressing down like he could physically block out the thoughts.
"Will she cry?"
"Probably."
"But I guess that's to be expected, considering them being siblings."
"And me?"
It felt ironic to him how he'd ended up being Derrick's friend in the first place.
They didn't start off as smoothly as one would expect.
Before Philip met Derrick, he was a bad person and an even worse human being.
He was prideful, vile, and couldn't get along with anyone around him.
And on top of all that, he was lecherous in the worst way possible for a kid his age.
Having access to the internet at such a young age, he would often find himself wandering into the no-no side of the web, clicking links he shouldn't have been clicking.
By the age of fourteen, he would lust over any attractive woman he set his sights on. But even then, his mind wasn't mature, just young and hormonal and confused.
His naive mind couldn't comprehend the full allure and charm of a woman's body yet.
Even in the videos he'd watched, he only picked out ones with beautiful women in the thumbnail, their faces the main draw.
Their body didn't matter as much as long as their facial features were charming and they were female.
Still, they were mostly women with good figures anyway.
He'd always wanted to try out what he saw in those videos, but that wouldn't be happening any time soon.
He had no friends, and the maids were the only women he'd interacted with, except for his mother.
And they were all so mature and professional. Plus, they weren't particularly good-looking since the job recruitment for being a maid didn't include having a pretty face as a requirement.
During the weekdays when he was off from school, he would often follow his father to their company building to spend the day wandering around.
Although it was a business company, the building was large enough to entertain a young boy for a whole day if he got creative.
There were empty meeting halls where he could play games on massive screens, and attractive women in business attire going in and out of the building, which added much to his entertainment.
And to top it all off, the cafeteria would serve him anything he asked for, no questions asked.
Since his mother wasn't there to control his diet, he didn't eat healthy—not even close.
The chefs had no choice but to comply with his requests. They all knew his identity as the chairman's son, and crossing him wasn't worth their jobs.
Even if the order wasn't on their menu, they had to send people out to get the ingredients and make it happen, no matter how ridiculous the request.
Alas, after just a month or two, even this routine of doing whatever he wanted in the company building was starting to bore Philip to tears.
He would occasionally shout at the employees over nothing and throw tantrums even at minor inconveniences... such as his food taking too long to be served or someone not greeting him properly.
Causing a scene at least once was his daily routine, like clockwork.
On one fateful day, Philip was riding the elevator without any real destination in mind, just pressing buttons to kill time.
A man who seemed to be in his forties boarded the lift on one of the lower floors.
Along with him followed a young boy who seemed to be around Philip's age, maybe a year or two older.
But the difference between them was like day and night, like comparing a slob to a model.
The young boy wore a simple round-neck shirt with fair skin and luscious brown hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial.
He was also significantly taller and had a more fit, athletic physique compared to Philip, who was short and stubby.
And Philip wasn't fat in a cute manner with puffed cheeks and red dimples either. It was a clear sign of his terrible eating habits—just unhealthy weight sitting awkwardly on his frame.
Philip had acne scattered across his cheeks and forehead despite being in his youth, red and angry-looking.
With greasy lips and hair, indicating his poor hygiene habits that nobody had bothered to correct.
There were few to no good points to mention about his appearance back then.
But what had captivated Philip the most wasn't the young boy at all.
It was the girl who followed right after him into the elevator.
She wore a white dress and a pair of shoes that perfectly matched her snow-like fair skin, everything coordinated like she'd walked out of a fashion magazine.
She was a bit smaller than the boy but still taller than Philip by a good few inches.
She'd let her hair down, and it gleamed in a deep black color that caught the elevator's fluorescent lights, cascading over her shoulders like silk.
Her face was well-proportioned, to say the least—actually, it was stunning.
Her fair skin and pink lips, followed by her tiny, cute button nose, were a sight to behold for Philip, who had never met such a beautiful girl who was around his age before.
"Little boy, are you lost by any chance?" the man asked after both his children had entered, looking down at Philip with genuine concern.
Philip snapped out of his daze and looked up at him, blinking rapidly.
His first instinct was to shout at the man for treating him like a child when he was already fourteen years old—practically an adult in his mind.
But he hesitated when he noticed the girl's eyes flickering over to him, watching the interaction with curiosity.
"No, I'm not," Philip just answered curtly, his voice smaller than he'd intended.
Philip shuffled to stand in the corner as the lift hummed and began moving upward.
The man stood confidently in front while his children positioned themselves behind him. The girl stood on one end while the boy stood in the middle between them, creating a neat little triangle formation.
Philip would steal glances every now and then at the girl, his eyes darting over and then quickly away, making absolutely sure she didn't notice him staring.
He found himself flustered in a way he'd never experienced before and didn't want her to find out and think he was weird.
But to no avail—the boy standing in the middle had caught every single one of his stolen glances and all his reactions, his eyes sharp and observant. But he chose to remain silent, just watching with an unreadable expression.
The lift finally stopped with a soft ding at the top floor, where only Philip's father's executive office resided in isolated luxury.
Seeing how the security guard didn't question Philip or stop him even after going up to the restricted top floor, the man quickly dismissed his earlier idea of Philip being a lost child.
"Okay, kids, I'll go to the office alone. Wait for me here, and remember to behave," the man said to the two kids before walking off toward the reception desk, his shoes clicking against the polished floor.