Lacuna

*Click, click*

I set my camera down and examine the shots taken. Not bad at all. I can definitely use these later. I look back Yami beyond the glass panel as he continues his singing, marvelling at how photogenic he can be in his candid shots. And his voice－ such remarkable control, such grace. While it is indeed the voice of a boy, it also possesses the fluidity and tenderness of a female's vocal, a unique combination I never thought was possible. It's a little bit like a female with a lower pitch and yet not quite the same. From Yami's voice, you know it belongs to a boy.

"You're saying we need this done within five days?" Head Engineering Akira says as he studies the screen of the digital audio workstation. "A disco pop track like this… might be tricky."

"Sorry about that," I say, dipping my head in apology. "You know how it is when it comes to work."

"I hear you." Akira fiddles with a rotary knob on the console, furrowing his brows. "It's tricky, not impossible. And this boy learns rather quickly, so we've got that going for us."

"Yeah."

The session continues for little while longer before break time is declared. Yami steps out of the recording room, adjusting his frilly skirt and lets out an exhale of relief.

"Good job today, Yami." I pass him the bottle of apple juice I bought from the vending machine.

"Thanks, Mr Producer." The boy snatches it with a beam.

We proceed to the lounge and take our seats by the window, the very same seats we took when we first came to this studio.

"This song is amazing," Yami says, taking his first swig of the fruit juice. "I don't know what it is, but the coolness factor of the lyrics just… connects with me, y'know? Like it was made for me."

The song－ L.C.A, abbreviated for Lights Camera Action－ has an upbeat tune to it while retaining certain elements of coolness. An energetic, fast-paced disco pop. "It does suit you very well." I nod. "Almost makes me think the Project Manager actually knows what he's doing."

Yami chortles at my remark. "You really hate his guts, huh?"

"Hate is such a strong word. I think I'm just pissed with his expectations."

"That's the working world for you. Always gotta expect the worst from your bosses."

"Amen."

We share a moment of silence, soaking in the tranquil atmosphere of the quiet lounge. No music, barely any voices coming from outside, just the constant hum of the air-conditioner serving as white noise.

It's the second day of recording, and already Yami is used to the work flow with the staff members. It's apparent that he has plenty of work experience and knowledge. I even envy him a little at times. He's got so much talent and promise for his future. As for me, my life has been dull as rocks for as long as I can remember, and with a few things I'd rather forget. But overall, I'm happy for him, and there's something about this boy that makes me want to give it my all for him.

"Hey, I was just thinking," Yami says, setting his half-finished bottle on the table. "What kinds of people do you dislike the most?"

"Hmm?" I raise my brow, surprised by his random question. "Can't really think of one from the top of my head."

"No way," Yami says. "There's gotta be some kind of person you think is super annoying."

"It is what it is. I mean, I don't really hang out with people I'm not comfortable with, so I don't think too much into their personalities and stuff like that. Most people have their own reasons for behaving the way they do anyway, so there's no point in judging."

"Heeh?" An expression of awe slowly creeps onto the boy's features. "That's cool. Really cool."

"Why ask this all of a sudden though?"

Yami sighs, frowning and placing his hands by his hips. "Well, it's just that there are these really annoying people at school. They're so… ugh, I don't like them. They try so hard to be cool and stuff. Like, overly-cool."

"They do anything to piss you off?"

"Yeah!" Yami exclaims, bouncing in his seat. The boy rummages through his pocket and whips out his phone. "You see this?" He raises his phone up so that the charm is at my eye level. Looks like a cute bipedal anime cat. "They made fun of me for bringing this cute little thing to school. Nothing wrong with liking cute stuff as a boy. Honestly, it's not that big of a deal to me, but when they try so hard to act cool and all, it's so gross."

"I see." I realise I've been leaning away a little from him. His outburst took me by surprise. I push my glasses up and say, "Well, if they gotta talk trash on others to make them feel better about themselves, ain't that sad."

"Right?" Yami leaps to his feet, looking rejuvenated already. "That's the truth right there. They try so hard to look cool but they're really just dorks."

"You're pumped," I say. "Ready to hit the grind again?"

"You bet!"

As we make our way back to the studio, Yami eyes at the camera in my hands.

"You've been taking a lot of my pictures lately," he says. "I know it's for work, but mind telling me what you're going to use them for specifically?"

"Ah, this?" I show him the camera, scrolling through the gallery for him to see the shots I took. "KR Entertainment has their own social networking page to promote their artists. It's the producer's job to submit a few good ones so that they have content to promote you. Plus, they'll come in handy when you decide to manage your own official fanpage."

"Ohhh! Sounds great!" Yami's eyes are big as a goldfish's now as he ogles at the pictures. "A fanpage though? That sounds exciting, but I'm not sure if I have the time for it. I've still got school, and you know what my schedule is like after that."

"I'll manage it for you then."

"Really?" The boy shoots a look at me, his eyes shining like gleaming gems.

"If it's something to do with helping you gain popularity, then it's part of my job. Of course I'll do it for you."

"Awesome!" Yami rests the back of hand on his forehead and performs a swoon. "Oh, to have a strong man like you support little ol' me. You truly are my knight in shining armour."

"Shut up, silly." I chuckle at his melodrama, pushing my glasses. "Concentrate on your work."

By the time we're back at the recording room, the rest of the staff are preparing for the next session already. Akira is having a conversation with a couple of the musicians, probably discussing about the flow of the music with them. It seemed a little off during the last session.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Yami suddenly bounces to me like an excited puppy. "I have a favour to ask."

"What?"

"It's nothing big, really," he says, visibly trying to suppress his laughter. "Okay, okay, so you remember about those dorks in school I told you about?"

"Yeah?"

Yami flashes an impish grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. "How about helping your dear idol out with uh… improving his social environment?"

"You've gotta be kidding me…"

When Yami told me the address to his home, I couldn't quite believe that he's living in an estate the size of ten football fields. And now that I'm here… I still can't quite believe what I'm seeing. From the outside, it's impossible to even catch a glimpse of his mansion as the perimeter of the estate is blocked off by a hedge wall.

Why the hell is he even in this idol business when he's this rich?

Every fibre of my being screams that what I'm doing is probably violating something within the contract (though I'm not sure what), but here I am, standing before the gates of Yami's home. I take the card from my pocket that Yami passed to me and tap it against the console. A tiny bulb on the machine flashes green with a blipping noise, and the massive ornate double gates slowly swing open.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm in a reality TV show or something," I mutter, a little dumbfounded by the developing situation. This feeling is becoming more and more common the longer I work with this company, and it's only been a few days…

I make my way across the cobblestone path flanked by fields of grass with thick, leafy trees on the right and more slender ones on the left. It feels as if I'm making my way through a mini forest rather than a path towards an estate, as if I just stepped through a portal to another world. The density of the leaves are tight enough to block out much of the afternoon sun from me. A breeze rolls through the greenery and rustles them, and I can feel the wind fluttering in my ears and caressing my features. It's a soothing sensation, almost enough to assuage my feelings of awkwardness as I traverse this foreign land.

Eventually, I emerge from the greenery and find myself in an open area with a fountain sitting in the centre. A courtyard of sorts, it would seem. Ahead, a wide open field spreads before me. I can see flowers, more fountains, and even a massive hedge maze a short walk away.

The cobblestone path wraps around the fountain and leads to the left, of which a massive, three-storey mansion sits in the distance. I know a little about architecture, and to my knowledge, the building reflects a rigorous adherence to French Palladian and American Beaux Arts architecture, the kind of building you'd see from celebrity TV in the US showcasing tours of their homes and lifestyles.

And this boy, the idol I'm working with, is living that sort of life here in Japan.

"Yeah, definitely on reality TV right now," I say half-jokingly, scanning my surroundings for the imaginary hidden camera crew.

Remembering Yami's instructions, I cross the distance between the extended courtyard and his home, heading for the garage to the left of the mansion. Upon keying the number code of the garage, the shutter automatically rises, revealing a sleek black sedan with the unmistakeable Aston Martin logo in the front.

According to Yami, I'm supposed to be role-playing as his chauffeur today and pick him up from school. Apparently, his parents felt that it'd be to his detriment if they gave him a chauffeur. They didn't want to give him too much so that he'd start being more dependent on himself, and Yami felt the same way… until now, at least. He said his parents just went overseas for a business trip, so he can abuse a bit of this power while they're gone.

I can feel the butterflies in my stomach slowly turning to piranhas as I unlock the luxury sedan's doors with the key Yami gave. I've never driven anything this expensive before. Imagine if I crashed his dad's ride when I'm on my third day of the job…

The interior looks just as sleek as the outside of the car. Smooth, caramel-coloured leather seats and a futuristic-looking dashboard awaits me. I gingerly step in, close the door behind me and take a deep breath.

"Welcome, Mr Beliko－"

I scream, jerking away from the voice. To my relief, it's just the console talking to me. "Jesus!" Artificial Intelligence－ I've heard that only the most expensive cars in the world have them. I take another moment to gather my nerves again, calm my breathing and assess the situation. For now, all that's left for me to do is to drive to Yami's school and play along. The rest is up to him. This is his show.

"I should ask for a raise after this." I sigh, putting on the gloves and cap.

Worried that the A.I. would freak me out again while I'm on the road, I decided to leave it off. Though it's my first time in a car like this, driving it is easy since the handling and everything about the vehicle is so smooth. I've never felt so much at ease, so much bliss when I'm behind the wheels before.

"Maybe when this is all over, I should get a car of my own."

St. Evans Academy, probably one of the most prestigious private institutions in all of Japan, looms before me. From what I know, it provides middle and high school education for the kids of some of the richest families in the country. A quick glance at the institution and it's immediately apparent to me there's nothing ordinary about it. Beyond the gates, a massive building stretches across the grounds, one with notable English flavour to it. Modern Georgian-style, I guess? And that's just the first section of the compound. Though I can't see it from outside, I've heard that there are many more facilities beyond that most middle-tier universities can only dream of having. With five dormitories for the students, it even serves as a boarding school for some of them as well.

I arrive at the front gates, already wishing the journey was a little longer. Already, several limos and other expensive luxury sedans can be seen making their way through the courtyard, heading towards the carpark at the far right. Not wanting to seem out of place, I decide to follow suit. Bugatti, BMW, Mercedes, every one of the most luxurious automobile brands in the world, so many of these cars are parked in this open lot sheltered by columns of colossal maple trees, each the height of a three-storey building.

Classes end at three, and it's exactly fifteen minutes past that time, the exact moment where Yami wants me to wait by the lot. Students are already streaming out of the compounds, and many of the waiting vehicles are already mobilising to the courtyard to pick their students up, but Yami is still nowhere to be found. Even though I'm behind tinted windows, I still feel naked as ever when surrounded by all these ultra-expensive vehicles. I've never experienced the high life or directly served people of this level of social class before. I'm a fraud, a sheep in wolf's clothing in the middle of the pack. The discomfort I'm feeling right now is almost suffocating.

"What the hell is he thinking…" I sigh, already wishing for the millionth time that I didn't accept his request. Now it makes me wonder what the hell was I thinking when I let him have his way with me. I need to be more firm with him the next time he asks something suspicious from me.

Finally, my phone's message alert rings, the cue for me to move up to the courtyard and pick him up. According to him, this is how the procedure usually goes for the students if they ever needed a ride.

I advance to the courtyard and pull up by the edge of the area, exactly like how every car has been doing so far. Yami－ or should I say Mischa, since he's in his school uniform－ strolls towards the car with two other students tagging alongside with him. Both boys are taller than him by an inch at least, and one of them has a basketball in his hands. Mischa rolls his gaze towards my vehicle before exclaiming something, leading the boys' attention here as well.

"Here goes nothing," I murmur.

I step out of the sedan, adjusting my chauffeur cap with deliberate calmness. When Mischa is close enough, I recite my line, "Good afternoon, young master." It takes all of my willpower to not snort a laugh or smile at how stupid I feel right now.

"Good afternoon, Vasily!" Mischa answers jovially－ almost too jovially, if you ask me－ before turning to his companions. "See, I told you guys I have my own ride. Of course someone as important as me would have my own chauffeur."

"Huh?" The one with the basketball doesn't look too impressed. "This is your first time getting picked up by a chauffeur though."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" his friend adds, folding his arms. "Did you just hire him today or something? A one-day service?"

"W-what? No!" Mischa shoots. "He's my family's long-time servant from back in Russia!"

"Russia huh? He looks Japanese to me though…"

"He's half-Japanese!" Mischa corrects. Neither of the boys look convinced by him, and if you ask me, I'd say my dear idol is starting to panic, looking a little too flustered to keep up with his own make-believe story.

Oh well… here goes nothing.

" Есть ли проблема, сэр (Is there a problem, sir?) "

Mischa whips around to face me, completely bewildered by my use of Russian. The boys seem surprised as well. While obviously I'm not sure if I said it right, the only thing I can do now is to maintain a straight face and keep playing on.

" Нет, не совсем. " Mischa answers softly.

I have absolutely no idea what he just said, but I curtly nod as if I understood everything.

" Я понимаю. (Understood.) " I step in front of Mischa and flash a polite smile at the boys. "I'm sorry, my master is a little tired today. We have an appointment to attend later in the day, so please understand." And with that, I bow before them.

The boys exchange glances, looking less cocksure than before and a lot more awkward now. "Yeah, sorry for taking your time," the one with the basketball says. And just like that, they take their leave, occasionally glancing back at us along the way.

Once we're both back in the car, Mischa crumples onto his seat like melting cheese. "Oh my god oh my god, that was close that was sooo close. You saved me back there, Mr Producer. Oh my god, I love you so much I'd marry you right now if I could."

"Marrying you sounds more like a punishment than a reward to me," I grumble, stepping on the accelerator.

"Wow, if you put it that way…" He sounds a little hurt as he says that, but that moment of anguish is gone as quickly as it appeared. "Oh, oh! I didn't know you spoke Russian! You never told me!"

"Because I don't."

"Wait, what?"

I turn on the Artificial Intelligence of the vehicle on, earning myself a welcome from the A.I. like before. After fiddling with the controls for a few moments, the A.I. then says, "Есть ли проблема, сэр (Is there a problem, sir?) "

"That's the Russian version for the help section's dialogue," I explain. "I thought learning it would come in handy before meeting you at the school since y'know, I am your supposed chauffeur." I then select the option which brings up the 'understood' response to make my point.

"You thought about all this beforehand," Mischa says. "Man, you're a genius!"

"It's not a big deal. This whole business with me playing as your chauffeur though, that's a big deal. You shouldn't be using me like this, y'know? I'm not your servant."

"Okay, okay. I'm really sorry I made you do this." The boy leans over to my seat, facing me through the rear-view mirror. At least he looks guilty now, so that's a start. "Will you forgive me?"

"I'll think about it."

"Aww, don't be so grumpy. You'll be doing this next time anyway when you have money for your own car, right?"

"I guess that's true. Still feels wrong to drive your dad's car though."

"Oh relax!" The boy throws himself back onto his seat and crosses his legs, acting as if he owns everything around him. By now, all traces of that vulnerable side of his is gone. I'm already starting to miss that part of him. "What dad doesn't know can't hurt him. What we're doing is just… getting our rock star image in advance, know what I mean?"

"Ah…" I exhale, shaking my head. "You know what, I can dig that."

"You're cool as hell, you know that?" Mischa giggles. "Wouldn't expect anything less from my producer."

This boy is crazy, that's for certain. But I know that getting in his way isn't going to pay off since I'm guessing it'll just make him lose his motivation. Weighing my options is what I do, and this is the best move I could've done to diffuse the situation. High risk, high reward. I suppose a crazy idol needs a crazy producer to shine.