VINCENT

I wished to stay with my son all day, but I have obligations to fulfill – work, that is. Just thinking about all those documents stacked on my office desk gave me a headache already, but I don’t even want to think about what will happen tomorrow if I refused to deal with them today.

And so, I forced myself to say goodbye to my son and leave his room, and walked down the grand staircase of the mansion while dragging an invisible ball of emotional turmoil clenched tightly to my ankles.

Just as I was about to call a footman to get my suitcase from the home office, I heard a rowdy noise coming from the servants’ wing. What’s with our servants? Are they having some sort of party, or perhaps a brawl? This early in the day?

Curious, I decided to investigate what was going on. I followed the noise, leading me to the servants’ dorms. I saw everyone gathered in front of one room at the edge of the hallway, which I recognized as Vierro’s room – my son’s valet. Whatever they’re watching in there must be something so bizarre that nobody realized my presence. I decided to keep quiet and sneaked in among the crowd, and finally managed to see what was going on inside Vierro’s room; a group of footmen and chauffeurs trying to pull off a chair sticking on the valet’s bottom.

“M-My Lord?!”

Silence fell into the dorm room as one of the maids noticed my presence and called out my title. Like a drop of water falling onto a motionless water surface, everyone quickly dispersed away from me, their faces looked as if they just saw a ghost. I tried to keep calm and show them that they should keep at ease… Until I turned to Vierro himself; he and the rest of the servants who were helping him with the chair stared at me with dumbfounded looks on their faces.

“M-my lord!” he suddenly spoke, breaking off the silence as he started to flush in shame. “I-I truly apologize for this outrageously humiliating scene, my lord! I-I really don’t know why I couldn’t get my bottom off this chair-“

Before he managed to complete his sentence, I dropped on my knees and burst out laughing, soon followed by the other servants in the room. Vierro’s face quickly turned as red as a glass of Bloody Mary, and he abruptly demanded his companions to help him with the chair again. But this time, Vierro ended up tripping and fell flat on his face, the chair still attached to his bottom. The crowd roared even wilder.

I know who’s responsible for this, obviously. But there’s no way I could give him a punishment for this – in fact, I might ask his grandmother to give him another Gundam toy. I just realized that I never felt this happy ever since that day, where I almost lost both my wife and son.

Almost.

Now, why haven’t I thought of this before?

My beloved wife and son were still alive, and they won't be gone forever. The thought of them vanishing from my sight was just an illusion caused by distance, even though I know exactly where they would be, which numbers to call, and who’s with them. And it’s not like that this would be permanent - they’ll be back. Not soon, but someday.

Yes, when things are better…Nichola, Keishiro, and I, we will be together again in this estate, as a family.

And I have vowed to myself, that this would be a promise that I would never break.

---

VALENFIELDS, APRIL 1986

On the day of his departure to Japan, The Bellrose Estate of Valenfields were filled with tears of our loyal servants. Although he was a naughty little rascal who had put them through his irritating booby traps, they loved my son dearly. They even gave him farewell gifts - a soccer ball from the footmen, and handmade stuffed animals from the maids. On formal manners, I would have to penalize my servants for openly showing their emotions to their employers; even giving my son gifts would be considered rude already. But this estate was never good at keeping things conventional ever since I married Nichola - back in her family estate in America, relationships with their servants were never so reserved like most Anglovan households.

Never in my life before I witnessed servants loving their employers’ child this much - not even the servants I lived with back when I was young. I was kind of envious, but couldn’t help but feeling proud as well.

At this time, Nichola had already went away to Arizona to be taken care by the best hands in a health resort. Jean and his family were currently in Munich for Brielle and Maurelle’s recitals. I was the only one who sent Keishiro away to the airport, with the exception of Vierro who had insisted to take the chauffeur duty as “My last duty to the little master,” he said, and I understood that; he had taken care of my son since he was born after all.

Instead of the usual limousine, I decided to let Keishiro choose which car he wanted to use to the airport. As I thought, he picked his favorite Ferrari Mondial QV Cabriolet. He really loved Ferraris, and he would always tell people that he would drive one on his own when he’s old enough. He also promised Brielle and Maurelle that he would take them on a ride as well when the time comes. Instead of being overprotective, Jean would always laugh at it, saying how Keishiro’s attitude reminded him how I used to pick up girls with my dad’s 250 GT Cabriolet back in high school - “Like father like son,” he would always said. I could only sigh in defeat and nudge Jean’s head with my elbow afterwards.

As soon as we reached the airport, Vierro drove into the private flight terminals of Heatherfield International Airport. As we approached the runways, I could see my private jet had already been prepared for Keishiro’s flight to Japan; the stairs had already stretched out with an obligatory red carpet laid out in front of it. Next to the stairs, two pilots and three cabin crews lined up with a welcoming smile. As soon as the car came to a stop, Keishiro jumped over the car door without even waiting for Vierro to open it, and he greeted the whole crew joyfully. I could understand his excitement, because this would be his first time flying cross-pacific on his own without his parents.

While Keishiro enthusiastically talked with the pilots, I went to speak with the cabin crews. I asked them to take good care of my son until Masato’s family took over, because I couldn’t come with him to Japan. I wanted to, but aristocracy duties bounded me to stay in Anglova for the next three days, and after that I need to go see Nichola in Arizona before going off to New York for a meeting with Bellrose Enterprise shareholders. I couldn’t describe how much I hated my position at times like these, where I had to sacrifice my time with my family for the sake of my duties. When you were young, everyone would tell you that your parents couldn’t spend time with you because they had to work for your sake. But now that I’ve got a family of my own, I wasn’t even sure why I had to sacrifice them for the sake of duties.

On whose sake anymore did I go through these obligations for then?

And then, it was time for him to go; the pilots had already started the engines, and all of Keishiro’s luggage was already carried in. I turned to Keishiro, who was saying his goodbyes to Vierro - I saw tears coming out of the his eyes as he embraced my son for the final time, while promising him that he would make his favorite honey-glazed hot chocolate every time he came back to Anglova for the holidays. He’s been holding them back since we left the house, and I wished I could send him over to Japan with Keishiro as well. However, Masato and Kaede insisted that if my son is to live with them, they don’t want him to be treated as a Viscount; no chauffeurs, minimum number of bodyguards, and definitely no valets. I wanted to disagree for a gazillion reasons, but both my parents and Nichola’s parents insisted that we should give it a try - Keishiro had been spoiled rotten through his life, and the strict Asian upbringing would do some good for him. After all, it’s not like he had to live like that permanently.

After he bid his farewell to Vierro, Keishiro ran up to me and tackled me with a hug, his tiny fingers clinging onto the back of my neck. I tightly wrapped his tiny back in my arms, inhaling the scent of children’s shampoo as I held back my tears. He’d usually flail and scream whenever I hold him too tight, but he didn’t this time - probably because we both knew that this would be the last hug we’re sharing in a long, long time.

“Bye, kiddo.” I whispered, “I’ll go visit you in Yokohama as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay daddy,” he replied, “Just take care of mommy first. I’m going to be fine with Uncle Masato and his family!”

The last sentence brought a smile to my face. Oh kiddo...even until now, he still thought about his mommy. I sometimes wondered why God gave me a boy like him - Nichola and I weren’t exactly good people when we were both young, and we’re definitely not the model parents for childcare book writers to take example of - especially now. But Keishiro...this kid was born with the heart of gold.

Maybe it’s not too late to cancel everything-

No. I can’t be selfish. This is for the best.

The exact words that came out of my mouth when I decided to send Keishiro to Japan echoed in my mind, reminding me why it came to this.

And then, I slowly let my son go. I thought he was going to hop into the plane immediately, but he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed into his coat pocket and handed me a roll of paper, tied neatly with a red-colored ribbon.

“Please give this to mommy.” he said.

I wanted to ask him what it is, but he already climbed up the stairs before I managed to. Once he’s inside the plane, he turned around and smiled, waving his hands towards Vierro and I until one of the cabin crews pulled him back because they were going to close off the door.

“My Lord, we have to go now.” Vierro said.

After giving one last look at the plane that would take my son to Japan, I started walking back to my car.

Vierro then moved the car to a safe distance where we could watch the take-off, and we stayed there until the plane was gone from our eyes.

---

ARIZONA, MAY 1986

Three weeks later, I was finally able to visit Nichola in Arizona. I brought the roll of paper that Keishiro gave me before he left and passed it to her.

As we sat together on her bed, Nichola untied the ribbon and unrolled the paper, revealing a crayon drawing of the three of us having a picnic on a hill. The three of us were smiling, with Nichola in the middle while Keishiro and I were holding her hands. On the left corner of the picture, there were childish scribblings written in Japanese that I couldn’t read, surrounded with hearts colored in pink. I wasn’t very fluent reading hiragana or katakana to begin with, so I don’t know what it says - but whatever’s written there made my wife broke down to tears.

“Sweetheart, would you tell me what is written there?”

Choking back her tears, she stuttered the answer. “O-odaiji ni, mama...”

Hearing that, I gently wrapped her in my arms and let her cry on my shoulder. I stroked her back gently to calm her down, unsure what to say.

Between her tears, Nichola repeatedly whispered apologies, wishing that she was a better mother for Keishiro. I hushed her and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, Nichola. You’ll get better.” I said. “Keishiro and I believed in you. Take as much time as you need.”

I didn’t let Nichola go until she fell asleep in my arms. She’s like little child at this state, but it’s not like we could help it either - she’s sick. And the reason why she fell to this state was partly my fault as well. However, we both had already agreed to stop blaming each other over the spilled milk, and start trying to fix what was wrong instead - it’s what Keishiro had wished after all.

‘Odaiji ni’ means ‘get well soon’.