Armin woke up to the sound of a doorbell.
He whined, burying his face deeper into the soft pillow.
The bell rang again.
Squinting his eyes open, he stretched his limbs lazily like a cat before throwing himself off the bed and heading toward the door.
When he opened it, a lady stood outside with a bright smile.
“Good morning, mister,” she greeted.
“Who…?” Armin asked, looking confused.
“Room service.”
“Eh?” he mouthed, feeling even more confused.
The lady maintained her smile as she gently pulled the trolley by her side closer.
“May I come in, sir?”
Armin moved to the side and opened the door wider for her.
“Who are you, and… where am I?” he asked, looking around the room for the first time.
Dark wood paneling framed the entryway and the bathroom, which featured a large glass window looking directly inside.
Polished dark hardwood floors covered the room, and a massive bed sat on a patterned rug.
A dining table with a single chair stood at the far end of the space, with recessed ceiling lights beautifully illuminating the entire room.
“This is the Louvre Hotel, and you were brought in last night by a friend. Don’t you recall, sir?”
Armin stared at her, his memory an entire blank until the roaring sound of a chainsaw suddenly rang in his head.
The terrifying memories of last night rushed back all at once.
He cried out loud, scrambled onto the bed, and quickly covered himself completely with the sheets.
“Are you okay, sir?” the lady called out.
Armin waited several minutes under the covers, wanting to be absolutely sure she wasn’t an accomplice of the stranger from last night.
When he didn’t hear any threatening sounds, he cautiously peered out from the sheet.
The lady was still standing in the exact position.
Her smile was still plastered on her face, though it now visibly showed concern.
“What do you want?” he asked, nudging his head toward her.
“I’ve come with your breakfast and a new change of clothes.”
“I didn’t order anything.” He wasn’t about to trust her; he had trusted a stranger yesterday and nearly died because of it.
“Your friend ordered them,” she replied patiently.
Friend, friend, friend.
Why did she keep talking about a friend?
What friend?
He didn’t have any friends, so who could she possibly be talking about?
He eyed her suspiciously.
“Who is this friend?”
“I don’t know him personally, sir.”
“Describe him then.”
“I am unable to do that because I just started my shift this morning, sir.”
Armin sighed in frustration and kicked the sheet off himself.
He sat at the edge of the bed and watched her closely.
She placed the clothes neatly on the nightstand and began setting the dishes on the dining table.
Armin counted every single plate she placed down—eight in total.
Then, she walked up to him and handed him a black envelope sealed with orange wax.
“Your friend left this for you, sir.”
Armin collected the envelope.
The lady bowed courteously and pushed the trolley out of the room.
Armin stared down at the paper, a bitter lump growing in his throat as questions swirled through his head.
What had happened yesterday after that crazy stranger turned on the chainsaw?
He dragged his legs up onto the bed and intertwined them.
Suddenly, his eyes fell on the pink pajamas he was wearing.
Where were his clothes?
He jumped off the bed, dumped the envelope on the mattress, and ran over to the mirror.
His hair looked completely disheveled, but aside from that, he looked alright.
He was okay.
In fact, he had a fresh, clean bandage wrapped around his ribs, and a plaster on the elbow where he had landed on the concrete floor last night.
He smiled at the kind gesture.
Gathering his pajamas, he walked into the bathroom to bathe.
He brushed his teeth with the single, unopened toothbrush sitting on the sink and carefully wiped his body down with a towel to avoid wetting the bandage.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he unfolded the new clothes: a pair of black briefs, black cargo shorts, and a vintage t-shirt.
He liked the comfort they offered; it felt much more like his actual style.
He walked over to the dining table and sat down to eat.
The food was fancy and delicious, but for some reason, it didn’t compare to the taste of Valerius’s cooking.
The sudden thought of all the meals Valerius had made for him—and how much the vampire loved watching him eat—made him instantly lose his appetite.
A strange, indescribable longing pooled in the pit of his stomach.
He tried to force himself to keep eating, but he couldn’t.
He dropped the spoon, rinsed his mouth with a glass of water, and walked back to the bed.
He lay down completely still, staring at the mysterious envelope.
After a few minutes of deliberate hesitation, he sat up and gently tore it open.
Bills of crisp dollar notes fell directly onto his lap.
Armin’s breath hitched.
He quickly gathered the money and counted it.
Three thousand dollars in total.
He jumped up and bounced happily on the bed, clutching the cash tightly to his chest.
Whoever this friend was, he wanted to give him a massive hug of gratitude.
Now he could easily find his way home with this money, and he certainly wouldn’t fall victim to another kind-looking stranger.
He would go right back to his work at the garage and save up for the fast-approaching new year.
He was so happy that he shut his eyes and let out a quiet, muffled squeal.
Standing on the edge of the bed, he even did a little butt dance, flipping his elbows in the air as if mimicking a chicken.
He grabbed the envelope to hide the cash back inside and noticed a neatly folded piece of paper hiding at the bottom.
His heart began to pound hard, he could feel the beat in his throat.
He pulled the paper out and carefully unfolded it.
A note was written inside in elegant cursive.
Armin touched the writing, noticing it was written with a fountain pen in direct ink rather than a standard ballpoint.
“Weird,” he mumbled, and began to read:
Next time you are running away, remember to wear your shoes and never get into the trunk of a stranger’s car.
If you let another man touch any part of your body again, I will skin that part out of you… alive.
Wear the necklace, at all times.
I found your brother, Archer.
Body suit extension tattoo, buzz haircut, matching hair and eye color with you.
Am I right?
I’m going to kill him.
Go live your life, Minmin.
The earlier happiness died right in Armin’s throat.
The description was entirely correct and on point.
That was his brother.
That was definitely his Archer.
And Valerius was going to bite into his neck and murder him.
His hands shook in dread, causing the money to slip from his grip and scatter across the bed.
He didn’t know what to do.
He jumped off the bed, ran toward the door, and then frantically ran back to the bed.
He gathered the scattered money and squeezed it into his shorts’ pocket.
He ran back to the door, only to realize he was barefoot.
He dashed back to the bed a second time and slid his feet into the hotel’s disposable slippers.
As he reached for the door again, he suddenly recalled that the note mentioned a necklace.
He ran back into the room yet again, opening all the drawers in a total frenzy.
There was no necklace anywhere.
Panic setting in, he grabbed the note and ran out of the room, sprinting through the hotel reception and out onto the road.
“Okay, where are we going? Palm Country, downtown,” he muttered to himself.
Yes, he was going home.
Since he couldn’t find Valerius or Alicia, and he couldn’t find the hospital to make the doctor call Valerius, he would just go home and confront Madam Margaret again. This chapter was taken from novelping . com without permission.
But which road led to his hometown?
He scratched his disheveled hair and ran right back into the hotel, dashing through the doors and bumping directly into a staff member.
“I’m sorry! How can I get to Palm Country from here?” Armin gasped.
“What is your preferred means of transportation, sir?” the employee asked politely.
“Any means!” Armin blurted, feeling incredibly stupid.
“If you are going by train, you must head to the train station. If you prefer to fly, you head to the airport. However, if you are going by taxi, I can book a ride for you, and if—”
“Yes!” Armin cut him off immediately.
“By taxi.”
“If you will give me just a minute then,” the staff member replied, walking over to the receptionist.
He returned a moment later and directed Armin toward the front desk.
Armin walked over to the receptionist, who politely asked for his details to book the ride and told him to wait.
Minutes later, Armin saw the room service waitress who had served him breakfast running toward him.
“Sir, you didn’t check out before leaving,” she said, catching her breath.
“I was supposed to give you this when you checked out.” She handed him a pair of black lace-up boots and a pair of thick black socks.
“Room service too?” Armin asked, completely stunned.
“No, sir. Your friend brought the clothes and shoes for you. He also said to check your left pocket.”
“Eh?” Armin tilted his head in confusion, but the waitress merely courtesied and walked away.
Armin slipped his hand into the left pocket of his shorts.
He fished out a black bank card, a small note, and a black necklace adorned with a large, smooth ruby stone.
The ruby was shaped like a heart—not a cartoon valentine shape, but a literal, anatomically correct human heart.
He looked at the small note, written also in cursive handwriting with ink.
It read: I forgive you, Minmin.
His chest tightened painfully, and his eyes glistened with tears.
The receptionist called for his attention.
Quickly pulling on the socks and shoes, he walked briskly back over to her desk.
She wrote a series of numbers on a small slip of paper and handed it to him.
“This is the car’s plate number. The bills have all been covered. Have a smooth journey.”
Armin collected the paper and quietly whispered to her, “Covered by who?”
“By your friend, sir.”
He nodded numbly and walked outside.
A sleek BMW was waiting right in front of the hotel entrance.
The driver opened the back door and bowed deeply to him.
“Mr. Armin,” he greeted.
Armin looked at him, completely bewildered, but climbed into the vehicle anyway.
The driver shut the door, entered the front seat, and started the engine.
“Where are you taking me?” Armin asked, just to be absolutely certain.
“Palm Country, downtown, sir. And from there, I will follow your direction to whichever specific place you are heading.”
Armin nodded, but his heart refused to relax.
Valerius was driving him completely insane with anxiety.
He looked down at the necklace in his hands and fastened it around his neck; it actually matched his street-style outfit.
Placing his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes.
The drama was finally over, and he was finally going home where he belonged.
A fresh start is on the way and I had to go listen to Take me home, Country Roads by John Denver.
Don’t forget to support our mentally exhausted Armin with Golden Tickets.
Love y’all