After the Sunset
Chapter V
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Ran stared at her phone.
What have I gotten myself into?
Ran was about to dial the direct line to Rei's office when she had realized the gravity of what she was about to do. You don't just walk into an Otohata's office, ask for an exclusive, (which they haven't really granted to any publication ) and expect him to give it to you in a silver platter.
Come Ran. It's Rei. He's your friend…
Ran sucked a breath.
Her fingers played over the buttons, and listened to the voice recording with bated breath.
Here it goes…
"Rei Otohata's office-" a smooth male voice announced.
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"Sir, there's a Ran Kotobuki of Nippon Express on the line for you."
A momentary pause. "I'll take it."
"Ran?"
"I have a huge favor to ask you..." Ran took a deep breath and fired away, Ran-style. "I need an exclusive on the Otohata, and I need it now. Next week. Are you free for an interview?"
A second passed. Two…., Three,….. Four….
Ran began to mentally console herself, even applaud herself for daring to take the bull by the hor--
"Thursday would be perfect." Rei's voice went soothingly over the phone. "You can come in anytime to coordinate with my staff, and well, me."
----------- one week later--------------
"Gosssh…." Rumiko fawned over the leather. "Do you have any idea how much this limo's interior costs?"
"Rumi-san!"" Taka was red-faced. "Stop tonguing the seats!"
As much as the staff of Nippon Express were embarrassed at Rumiko's behavior—Rumiko only gave free expression to what they all felt.
Ran herself, was already a tad intimidated. Sure, she had interviewed top bosses, been invited to plush residences, scoured, ranked, and critiqued resorts… but this… this was just the beginning. They were en route to the Otohata, via a chauffeured limo sent by the Otohata heir himself.
She took a swig of the champagne. There. That should do it.
Rumiko bounced himself on the seat. "If I can have just one like this in front of the tv set…"
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For the nth time, Rei asked Sukio what tie to wear.
"That's fine, Rei-kun."
"Do you think it's too… colorful?"
Sukio swallowed a chuckle at the expression on Rei's face-- like an anxious teenager about to go on a date.
"Well?" Rei looked expectantly at the man in the mirror.
"What about that navy blue one to your right? The one with the maroon stripe—er- thing?"
Rei made a face. "That's the first tie I tried on." He snatched the tie from the already heaping pile. "Now for the cuffs. Mother of pearl, or plain platinum?"
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"Okay, Ujio. You can start shooting now."
"Yeah. Where do I start?"
The chandeliers above them glittered gloriously, like a thousand dewdrops twinkling against the soft, peachy lightbulbs. The grand stairway seemed to be carved out of pure marble, ornately designed, and surely must have been imported from some unnamable mineral-rich country. Paintings lined the walls, an interesting collection of abstract and classical art mixed together. To top it all was a large, icy-glass sculpture of icy spikes, while water freely ran below it. Through the play of light and water, it was breathtakingly otherworldly in its beauty. Well-heeled residents of the Otohata walked past them, and were themselves a strange form of decoration against the backdrop of overwhelming luxury and opulence.
The rest took everything in, gawking-- albeit close-mouthed.
"Good Morning." Came Rei Otohata's smooth greeting . His smile, which was bedazzling, already took four out of five of the female staff. "This is the Otohata, our family's legacy for three generations. If you would follow me please…"
Everyone who came upon Rei's way either bowed lowly—which only meant that they were under his employ, or fawned over him—which is the case of the women.
As they walked up the creamy marble steps, Ran saw a facet of Rei's world which was before confined to a mere thought, processed idly by the brain. Today, it was a tangible reality.
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Hours passed. Ujio, the replacement-but-very-capable photographer clicked away to his heart's content. Ran made the rounds of interviews with the heads of each department, from the cleaning people, to the Chef. Her assistants covered other concerns that she couldn't take care of. Finally, after the Otohata itself was thoroughly photographed and personalized, they came to photograph the famed Otohata Prince.
Lights were set-up, and Ujio did his craft.
"Your turn now, Ran."
The two exchanged awkward smiles, as their two public personas meet.
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"The chandelier is the Otohata's trademark. We didn't see the need to change it—even as more and more hotels, old and new, are adapting to newer trends, forcing themselves to revamp their company image. We found that the Otohata's character is what sets it apart from our competitors—and in the end that decision has turned to our advantage."
"And why is that?" Ran quickly asked, already reeled in by the amazing history that the hotel possessed.
"Have you noticed our movies lately?" A confident grin touched Rei's lips. "They have shifted to the Medieval, the olden days, and dare I say, the Romantic."
"The magic of the Past." Ran concluded smilingly. "And the people associate all these with the Otohata." She shook her head with admiration. "Brilliant."
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"My Gawd. We can't cover this hotel in just one day." Ujio was sprawled messily in his seat, exhausted. "I must've emptied 16 rolls of film."
Hitomi, their no-nonsense Editorial Assistant, took another helping of Crème de la—what ever it was, it tasted heavenly.
Ran, meanwhile, imbibed on her perennial favorite ever since she got into the writing business—coffee.
"This will be Nippon Express's benchmark issue." Ran remarked, a smile lighting her features. "I can't believe it… we are the first magazine who've been allowed here, let alone take pictures."
"How did you two become friends?" Hitomi moved her seat closer, eager to get some information about the dashing—um-- extremely famous man.
"We attended the same schools together." "He became a part of our little group."
The NE group suddenly became quiet.
"Did you two—ah---" Rumiko began tentatively, voicing what the rest was dying to ask-- "go out together?"
"No!" Ran knitted her brows. "What makes you think that?"
"Excuse me—" Rei's shadow fell over them. He regarded the crew with a pleasant countenance. "Can I steal your Editor for a moment.?"
The two moved away, and apparently became engaged in an animated conversation about the hotel and such, with Ran holding on to Rei's arm.
The Nippon Express staff exchanged looks, but said nothing.
"Know what? This place—" Hitomi let her eyes roam admiringly, oblivious to the silent agreement that went between her teammates. "is almost like a castle." She sighed. "That Rei guy really is a prince."
The female section of the staff agreed wholeheartedly. The male section rolled their eyes.
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Rei led her to a vacant spot, holding Ran by her elbow.
"So, how was it?"
Ran wrinkled her nose. "It was tiring."
Rei chuckled slightly.
"The hotel is --- big"."How do actually maintain this place?" Sometimes, I still have trouble finding my pen in my room but here—my pen will be a needle in a haystack."… Hmm, make that a mountain."
Rei grinned. "I didn't hear a single complaint. Glad that the Otohata has passed the standards of the great Editor Kotobuki, champion of women in Japan."
"Hey." Ran gave a playful punch to Rei's arm, which Rei exaggeratedly rubbed.
Ran's face settled to a more serious expression. "Rei-kun… thank you…" She took Rei's hand and held it solemnly. "You don't know… how much this means to me…"
He covered her hand with his. "You're welcome."
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We ran an informal survey among our clients and we came upon the conclusion that….."
Rei was only half-listening, as his mind was decidedly stuck on yesterday.
…the hotel seems to lack some sort of presence… that will make them feel more welcome-"
"Warmth." You're talking about warmth…" Rei finished for him. "It needs something that will convey that welcoming feeling… that presence…."
"Music." Rei concluded.
"I want a string quartet and a pianist at the lobby." "Watanabe?"
"Yes Otohata-san?"
"You can discuss the rest in my absence."
The door swung shut, leaving the board to gape incredulously after him.
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