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.