Polaroids on The Floor

Fukuoka

After several hours of travel, Kim finally arrived in Fukuoka, feeling relieved to be closer to the other cities on his itinerary. The sun was setting as he checked into his hotel. When he approached the reception desk, he caught sight of the man from his previous encounters—Fuuto—chatting with some people. Kim was taken aback by the coincidence. How had he arrived here so quickly?

Determined to avoid him, Kim tried to slip away discreetly. He took the elevator to his floor, but as the doors began to close, he saw Fuuto’s hand wedge between them. They ended up alone in the elevator, and Kim felt a pang of unease.

“What are you doing here?” Kim demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his effort to sound firm.

Fuuto leaned in closer, his deep voice almost a whisper. “I. Own. This. Hotel.” As the elevator doors opened, Fuuto stepped out and walked away.

Kim, still rattled, made his way to his room. He encountered a maid in the hallway and decided to inquire about Fuuto.

“Excuse me, do you know who owns this hotel?” Kim asked.

“Mr. Fuuto,” the maid replied. “He owns many hotels across various cities. Though his father is more successful, Mr. Fuuto is quite well-known himself.”

“Fuuto, huh? Thanks,” Kim said, his curiosity piqued.

Back in his room, Kim looked up Fuuto online and was stunned to find out just how wealthy and successful he was. “No wonder he didn’t hesitate to give me that money,” Kim mused to himself.

After a quick shower, Kim collapsed into bed. He was exhausted but knew he had to get up for work soon. The next morning, he was jolted awake by a knock on his door. Groggily, he opened it to find a maid with a breakfast tray.

“What’s this? I didn’t order anything,” Kim said, puzzled.

“It’s already been paid for,” the maid replied.

“By whom?” Kim asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” the maid said with a polite smile. “Enjoy your breakfast!”

Kim was left bewildered as the maid departed. He uncovered the tray to find a sumptuous steak. “This must be expensive,” he said gratefully, savoring the meal.

After breakfast, Kim quickly showered and headed out to work. He felt the weight of his erratic sleep schedule and meager meals, but he pushed through, driven by his love for his work and the need to provide for his family.

Nine more days, Mom, and I’ll be home, Kim thought, glancing at a family photo on his phone. “I hope this project goes well and helps with your treatment. I promise we’ll get through this,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. He resolved to keep moving forward despite the emotional strain.

Kim turned around and saw Fuuto standing behind him. Embarrassed, he quickly wiped his tears.

“You heard everything?” Kim asked, his voice strained.

Fuuto nodded. “You want to cure your mom? I can help. After all, I could use a little hand.”

Kim, despite understanding Fuuto’s wealth, felt uncomfortable with the offer. “I’m sorry, but this is what I love doing. I’m not going to work for a stranger who keeps following me.”

Fuuto fell silent and went back into the hotel. Kim, feeling a mix of relief and confusion, continued his work. He visited the food stalls at Yatai, capturing vibrant shots of the food and the bustling environment. He also photographed Fukuoka Tower and the busy streets, finishing his work for the night.

Exhausted, Kim returned to the hotel and crashed into bed. The next morning, he was woken by another knock on his door. It was the maid delivering more food.

“What’s going on? I didn’t order this,” Kim said, now even more confused.

“It’s from someone who’s already paid. I’m sorry, I can’t say who,” the maid replied before leaving.

Kim opened the tray to find another impressive meal. “Whoever this is, they’re incredibly generous,” he said gratefully before diving in.

With a renewed sense of energy, Kim continued his work, photographing Ohori Park, Momochi Seaside Park, and Kushida Shrine. He finished by noon and returned to the hotel to pack for his next destination.

As he was about to leave, he bumped into Fuuto.

“Sorry,” Kim muttered, trying to hurry past.

“Where are you going?” Fuuto asked, concern in his voice.

“None of your business,” Kim snapped.

“Have you eaten yet?” Fuuto asked, his voice laced with worry.

“Why do you care? You’re the one who paid for that food, right? Want it back?” Kim’s frustration was evident.

“I could give you more money if I wanted to,” Fuuto said, his tone gentle despite the tension. “Why are you so angry? I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help. Please stop following me,” Kim said firmly, walking away.

Fuuto was about to respond when his phone rang. He answered it with irritation.

“What is it, Dad?” Fuuto asked.

“There’s a company stealing my money. I need you to deal with it while I’m in Switzerland,” his father said.

“What do you want me to do?” Fuuto asked.

“There’s a boy working there. He’s causing the company to flourish, making it a rival. His name is Kimiyaki Azura. I want you to eliminate him. I’ll send you a photo,” his father ordered.

When Fuuto received the photo, his heart sank—it was Kim. Fuuto struggled with his father’s demand.

“Dad, you own fifty companies. Why are you so upset about one being successful?” Fuuto asked, frustration evident.

“I don’t care. Handle it immediately!” his father shouted.

“I’m. Not. Doing. It,” Fuuto replied, his voice filled with defiance. He ended the call abruptly.

A moment later, his father called again. “Fine, I’ll have your bodyguards handle it. You’re useless,” his father said before hanging up.

Fuuto felt wounded by his father’s harsh words but resolved to protect Kim. He had experienced the loss of his own mother and understood the pain of being treated as a mere tool for wealth. Now, he had someone to protect.

Determined, Fuuto traced Kim’s next destination and discovered he was heading to Kanazawa. Fuuto contacted his hotels there and found where Kim was staying. With a new sense of purpose, Fuuto set off to follow Kim, not as an adversary but as a guardian, ready to shield him from the darkness his father represented.