Warm Embraces Hotel

Once-proud paint covered the walls. Though it was faded, the pink exterior was still somehow gaudy and exhausting to look at as the building loomed silently over the tattered windows and roofs of the neighboring dwellings. Winding, aged lanes curved erratically as they approached the site, seeming as though no one had ever wanted to actually wing up at this place. Yet now, Masaru stood before its stained, grime-coated entrance, calming himself as he began the new low point in his life.

Pickatthescab

Mercilessly, the rain had stopped for the moment, so Masaru was at least able to reach his destination dry and as at ease as possible. Still, as he ascended the steps towards the front doorway, he felt something tug at his shirt from behind. And the teeth were there again, chattering and scraping in his mind.

Chiiiiit. Chiiiiiiiickt. At least the eyes weren’t there. Ccccccchiiiiickt. Chickkkkt.

An enormous mural faced the roadways, depicting two yearning lovers falling into one another’s arms. The man’s face was smeared. The woman’s once vibrant skin was now browned and blotched with damage. Judging from their clothing and hairstyles, the painting was done in the eighties and hadn’t been touched since. Signage covered most of the street-level view. Rooms and rates were listed in dimmed lights that shone out for no one.

Bulbs flickered as Masaru passed the sign. He noticed one room’s light was already off, which should have meant it was rented, but to his knowledge, no guests had been there in days.

The entrance door was unlocked. He was going to have one companion on some nights: A cleaner. That person was seemingly already there. As Masaru entered the hotel, he turned for a goodbye look at the sun. Glints of pale golden warmth cut over the edges of the distant towers and trees. It was there, then the door closed, and it was gone.

The lobby was stained. Carpet squished beneath his feet with a sensation of being mold-laden and damp. Instinct led Masaru to retrieve a mask from his jacket pocket. Such air had a habit of being riddled with bacteria and disease that could eat at one’s lungs for months. The scent of cleaning chemicals hung heavy in the air, clashing violently with remnant hints of stagnation and cheap air freshener.

“Hello?” Masaru called out as he entered the low-lit lobby.

Posters and cards for nearby soaplands and call girl services lay on the counters, reminding Masaru just what type of world he had now entered. In his heart, he knew that any guests coming here would likely be coming here to pay for the services of their partner guest. Something about the massive advertisement on the left wall unsettled him. Dozens of photos of smiling, charming young women stared out at him as an overly bright can light shined onto the glossy print. Right beside them was another room selector with prices listed out at hourly and nightly rates.

At quick glance, it almost felt like the rates were for the girls instead of the rooms, but Masaru assumed their hourly cost was even higher. Masaru finally looked away and shook a chill from his shoulders. Their unblinking eyes felt like they followed him as he looked around the rest of the room.

More signs displayed rooms and rates. Beneath each room advertisement was a notice alerting guests that once they entered their room, they would be locked inside until their reserved time was complete. This was standard for most love hotels, so Masaru didn’t think anything of the notice. All he did was make a mental note that the locks were likely automated.

The reservation system was guest-controlled. Toy, costume, and lube rentals were guest-controlled. Food orders were guest-controlled. Everything was designed to limit guest engagement with anyone else, so that no one would feel embarrassed or ashamed. For Masaru, this meant that even if this hotel had been packed with guests, he would likely now be spending his waking hours without interacting with a single human, save for the occasional passerby or potential issue with a room.

He was alone. Chickkt. And now he was even more alone.

His nights would now be defined by restocking shelves, walking rooms, checking inventory, maintaining facilities, and doing his best to drown out exaggerated moans that would likely be drifting down the halls. Fabric pulled at his neck. Pick. Pick. Someone was approaching from his weak side.

When Masaru turned, he saw a small foreign man approaching with an arm basket of cleaning supplies. His face’s dark skin was accented by even darker bags. There was an exhausted discoloration to his complexion, telling the world that he likely hadn’t seen the sun in months. Somehow, he seemed more timid than Masaru.

Business etiquette took over, and Masaru smiled, extending his business card in both hands.

“Pleasure to meet you. I am Ishikawa Masaru. I am from Andrakin and am the new facilities manager here. I look forward to working with you and am in your care,” he said with a bow.

Faint tremors shook the man’s body as he shook his head and looked away. Masaru wondered if he spoke any Japanese at all. Those girls on the posters weren’t the only type of exploited or trafficked laborers lurking in the shadows of the economy. Realizing the man didn’t want his card, Masaru simply nodded and returned it to his jacket. Fidgets and flexes tensed in the man’s hand as he darted stolen glances at Masaru’s eye. Nothing out of the ordinary for Masaru, so he simply pointed to the cleaning supplies.

“H-have you already cleaned for the night?”

The man nodded nervously.

“Thank you, I appreciate your hard work,” Masaru replied, trying to be as calming and gentle as possible.

Still, the man’s eyes stayed down. Masaru accepted this was enough and simply turned to the doorway that led to the back office area. He pointed to the locked handle, and the man understood. A set of keys was retrieved from his pocket and placed in Masaru’s hand without a word. It was up to Masaru to figure out which of the four worked on what doors. After two attempts, he found the appropriate key and entered the back space where he would now be hidden away. The door closed behind him, and Masaru saw one more image of the scared man shuffling onwards to continue his work.

Within the back office, dozens of monitors awaited Masaru. To his great horror, he realized many of these were hidden cameras.

“Ohhhh, no… no, no, no…” Masaru muttered as he looked at the live-feed night vision footage of the currently empty rooms.

The rooms were unoccupied now, but Masaru knew that when there were guests, those screens had been watched by others who came before him. In fact, he imagined there was a closed circuit loop storing that footage on some forsaken backup hard drive. Countless acts of intimacy and extortion had likely been recorded without consent, and now he would have to sit there and be reminded of that. Daring to unplug them would likely bring down the wrath of someone cruel, be it his superior, or maybe even worse. Still, he debated it. For now, all he could do was plan to be in another place if and when guests did eventually arrive. The sounds would already be bad enough. He didn’t need footage as well.

But he did notice that one screen was dark. In the middle of the display, the ninth monitor was black, as though not even powered on. Toggling the power switch did nothing, and Masaru wondered if this was the same room that was darkened on the sign. Another worn-down office chair lined with fake leather sat waiting for Masaru, but he decided his back would prefer he remain standing for a little longer.

Everything was still.

Creaks in the walls popped on occasion.

Electric hums whispered from the flickering monitors that loomed behind him.

Stale, lifeless halogen shone down on him.

His eye began to drift.

Vision faded on his weak side, and he accepted the oncoming headache.

His breath was warm in his mask.

Time bled like a dying animal.

Masaru finally sat in the uncomfortable chair. Eventually, the air conditioning clicked on. Outdated and neglected systems churned to life, struggling as they circulated air through ducts and vents with uneven force. Masaru had nothing else to do but listen to the fan cycles. Bit by bit, the hums blended into a steady droning ambience that rose and fell in a steady cadence. It sounded as though the building was breathing.

Nothing happened. No one arrived. All the while, the steady breathing of the hotel remained consistent.

Eventually, Masaru had to do something. He hadn’t brought a book or any hobby to engage himself, so he decided to inspect the sign first. The storage closet was at the back of his encampment, and he quickly found replacement bulbs of different sizes. After grabbing one of each, Masaru exited his windowless reclusion and walked back into the world.

By then, the darkness had fully devoured the sky. Checking his watch told Masaru that it was still the same day, not even yet midnight. He’d only been at the hotel for less than three hours.

He carefully removed the plastic covering of the room advertisement, taking care to keep the listing imagery from falling away. After he set that on the ground, he unscrewed the old lightbulb and found the appropriate replacement from his batch of options. A few simple rotations slid it into place, but no light appeared.

Masaru unscrewed and reset the bulb, rotating it into position once again. Still, no light appeared.

“Bad wiring?” Masaru asked as he forced himself up with a grunt.

Back inside he went, where he made a note on his desk pad to look into having an electrician come inspect the wiring. First, he’d have to find out if he had any manner of maintenance budget. For now, he continued his inspection.

He didn’t know enough about electronics to bother with looking into the monitor’s issues. If anything, he hoped it meant that at least one room didn’t have an active hidden camera. Still, he felt compelled to see the room itself to make sure nothing was amiss within its walls. One last ledger check confirmed no one had rented the room, so he was free to enter.

Down the hall he went, keys in hand. Silence coated the corridor, save for the inhales and exhales of the fan unit. Faded murals covered every inch of the hotel. Images of lovers reaching for one another were on the ceiling, on the side walls, in the tattered wallpaper, and in the framed art. In almost every painting or print, they were never actually touching. Forever reaching, but never connecting.

The hallway turned right, leading Masaru further into the depths of the floor plan. There was no overhead lighting, merely a weak, red glow shining from the floor. The ambience was so weak that Masaru struggled to see the edge of the hallway. Room numbers were hard to read. Doorways seemed to lean forward. Another loud pop sounded out as the old structure settled on itself. Then Masaru saw his destination.

Room 109.

pick

Something pulled on his collar again, but Masaru brushed the sensation off.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. Masaru retrieved his key ring and began to test keys until he found the master. Clicks and tension releases told him the door was unlocked. The handle turned, and the doorway parted.

“Hello?” Masaru asked as a courtesy.

No one responded. With that, he entered the room.