Monday, January 30th
02h45pm Tokyo Time
After a flight of approximately 11:30 minutes and completely exhausted by a time difference of 16 hours, the group, which travels in several black sedans, arrives in front of the Carston Tokyo Metropole. His tired eyes trying to detail the huge modern building surrounded by palm trees, Dean already sees the great life he will lead during his stay here.
It is accompanied by a strange feeling of wealth that Dean, who knows he is (the great leader), stops his students. "Perfect, after I made the call, we'll go to the reception desk where the staff will assign us our rooms, then..."
"No need, I'm in my home."
Ryan Carston, that little bastard, he's damaging his greatness. However, he is telling the truth, how embarrassing.
"Anyway, whether you're in your home or not, we have to do things in order or soon this place won't be any better than a battlefield."
"Sir, I want to go to Akihabara."
"Professor, I want to visit the Asakusa sanctuary?"
"And I want to go shopping in Ginza."
Akihawhat? Asawhat? What are these kids talking about? Are they still trying to make him look like an idiot? Indeed, Dean, who had very little time to prepare, did not do any research, even partial on Tokyo. He had never been particularly interested in Japanese culture and now he is sinking into an island hell that is accompanied by incomprehensible words.
"Calm down, everybody. First of all, leave your luggage in your rooms and rest. I don't need to remind you that tomorrow you'll start school again, do you?"
"Your teacher is right. Everyone get their suitcases and move on to the reception. Start."
Would this beautiful woman be a goddess who came down to earth to make my life of teacher a school paradise? His hand grabbed by that of the tall blonde woman, his eyes penetrated by Benedict's deep green eyes, Dean lets himself be guided without even being able to resist. Unconscious of the persuasive power of mature women, slowly, Dean lets his conscience be penetrated by the siren licking her lips.
Wait a minute! Here? No, no, there must be a mistake somewhere. "Excuse me, but I think we're in the wrong place."
The employee is Japanese, however his perfect English allows him to have an easy dialogue with Dean. As good as his English is, the employee does not know how to explain the current situation. He looks again and again but there is no doubt about it, it is indeed (the suite) prepared especially for Professor Fulster's stay.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Fulster, but look for yourself. I..."
Dean, who was delighted to discover the magnificent bedroom that awaited him, was initially very surprised that this seemingly professional employee took him to the second basement. In a second step, he reviewed his judgment regarding this employee. Which hotel professional would walk his customers between the electrical panels and the service rooms? However, feeling as if he had penetrated the body of an urban explorer, visiting this concrete labyrinth turned out to be fun, so he didn't complain. During the third step...
... and he's currently facing this uncomfortable moment, Dean has like a murderous impulse. He wants to strangle this employee. Unfortunately, strangling him would not change much the fact that in front of him, under the signboard (Premises garbage B), a smaller signboard containing the mention (Suite by Professor Dean Fulster), burns his eyes.
Red with shame, Dean, who tries as he can to appear serene, clears his throat. "Are you sure there is no mistake and that this is my room?"
"Yes, Mr. Fulster, this special suite has been graciously awarded to you by members of our management."
[Ryan, you little asshole, I'm gonna kill you.] "I understand. How much would a room cost if I had to rent one with my own money?"
"Some are quite cheap. I'll express myself in dollars so you won't be lost. The price of the smallest rooms starts at $695, Mr. Fulster."
After a quick calculation, considering that it's still $23 a day just to sleep, Dean thinks about borrowing some money from his parents for a moment. "This monthly price for a very small room is a little excessive. I'll offer you $600. It's a take it or leave it."
Is he dealing with a joker or is this young man a complete idiot? The employee looks at the face of this teacher standing proudly in front of him, but it is difficult for him to say whether it is one or the other. Fearing that it was the second case, the employee who took a little pity on the young man, sighs and out of kindness of soul, he makes him a proposal.
"Sir, the $695 requested is per night. As I feared, you're a little slow-minded. Sir, although I don't have the financial means to fix your situation, it is with pleasure that I invite you in my home. Helping people in need is a duty. I would add that helping a lost and slow-minded stranger in need should be a national obligation.
For Dean, these words could be kind, comforting, they could even warm his heart. Yet, strangely enough, they are more painful than anything else. Not wanting to look more pitiful than he already looks, Dean pulls out his chest and brandishes his fist:
"Thank you my good friend, but I have to face this alone or who else is I be if not a coward? A mathematics teacher only needs his books to follow the life line he draws with his hand. Yes, my good friend, thank you again for your generous invitation, but unfortunately, I must decline it."
If the employee's face can only read determination, Dean, who valiantly opens the door to the premises garbages B, feels something else in him. Anger, shame, desire for murder, lots of different feelings assail him as his eyes cross the small camp bed in the center of about fifty large garbage bins.
"I thought you were totaly idiot and whether that you are or not doesn't matter much. I want you to know that I admire you, sir. You are an example of courage and determination for all of us. Really, you opened my eyes and allowed me to see further, bigger. Enjoy your stay with us, sir."
When the door slams behind him, now immersed in this silent, black and particularly smelly place, Dean puts down his 2 suitcases, then, clenching his teeth, he sits on the bed of poor quality metal that collapses under the weight of his buttocks.