When they entered the salon, he could feel a buzz in the air. So this really was a place celebrities frequented yet people still found it exciting.
He made an effort to act nonchalant and sat in a chair. A man came over.
“Cheonghyeon, nice to meet you. Is Changsik here? Director Han went to Seongsu, so starting today I’m in charge of EAST. What would you like me to do this time?”
“We’re going on Y Company’s house-hunting show, you know it? My Home, My Purchase. It’s our first time in a while in front of cameras, and we’ll be looking at some high-end listings, so make him look as much like a rich family’s young master as you can. Don’t style him so he screams ‘idol’. Keep it balanced.”
“Clothes?”
“Chanel’s sponsoring. I got the photos….”
The salon head, who looked around the same age as the manager, really did seem close with him; they spoke comfortably.
Looking over the photos Changsik showed, they quickly got absorbed in their own world, debating hard. Once the general outline for the styling seemed set, Director Sim led him to the shampoo station.
Good heavens.
Why are there so many Henrys in this world? The professional, pampering hands were very much like Henry, the former head butler in his past life. No, they were more refined and meticulous.
Back then it had been close to mere attendance; here it felt like a master artisan was crafting an artwork stitch by stitch. No wonder Hando and Sikyung dried his hair so well. They must have copied what they’d seen here.
They kneaded his scalp, pressed firmly down to the nape of his neck. Ah, this was heaven. This is too good…
Squish-squish.
…Squish-squish?
The fingers gently rubbing his ear didn’t stop. He cracked an eye open and met Director Sim’s gaze in the mirror; the director, absently playing with his ear, started and jumped.
“Oh, gosh. Sorry. Your ear was so soft I kept touching it without thinking.”
Red-faced, he hurried back to blow-drying, though the director’s ears and neck were the ones flushing scarlet.
I’m the one who got the pressure massage, so why is hisbody red?
Unlike the slightly bumbling impression at first, the title “director” wasn’t something he’d gotten for nothing: with every snip and pass of the dryer, the style sharpened. Seeing how subtle differences completely changed the vibe, he understood why the manager had insisted they stop by the salon.
Just then, the stylist Miju came running up in a hurry.
“Did Cheonghyeon get makeup already?”
Before he could answer, one look at his bare face made her exhale in relief. She rushed him toward the wardrobe room.
“It’ll be better to dress first and do makeup after. These outfits are extremely sensitive to personal color. I mean, I think everything will suit you, but still, just in case. If we don’t have time to swap anything, we’ll have to cover with makeup. I was worried we’d be in trouble if you were already finished. Thank goodness.”
When she’d first seen him, the stylist had been shy and tongue-tied, but when it came to work she was all business.
The ruffled clothes gave him pause, but her rapid-fire delivery cowed him into heading to wardrobe. Once he was dressed and looked in the mirror, the initial pressure of the frills vanished, the style stood out, and he liked it a lot.
It even seemed to echo his former princely aura. It matched especially well with his current haircut that Director Sim had refined. As the 13th Prince Isaac, he’d been shorter and slight, and couldn’t quite project gravitas.
Now, at over 180 cm with a cooler impression, he even exuded a certain aura. A professional is a professional.
When he stepped out, Miju also smiled in satisfaction. This is it. The relieved, bright laugh looked good on her.
“Oh my, why is your skin so nice? We won’t need to layer much. It’s an outdoor shoot anyway, so no need for heavy makeup—just sunscreen and a quick tidy of the brows. A tinted balm on the lips will actually suit the style better.”
The makeup artist murmured in admiration as she dabbed and patted to finish the styling, while Miju busily snapped photos of the way he looked. “My eye is unfailing,” she muttered to herself.
They were almost at the station when they started getting ready to get out, and there was a huge crowd at the building entrance. Did someone famous come?
“Cheonghyeon, you ready?”
“Huh?”
“All of them are your fans.”
“How did they know and gather here? Did you call them? To prop me up?”
He asked, dumbfounded, and the manager gave a little smile as if finding him cute.
“We always post where we’re shooting and the schedule. But since your popularity’s jumped, they came to see you. We’ll have security when you get out, but be careful. And don’t panic.”
They each had a massive camera, so he assumed they were press. But to think they were all his fans…. As he stepped out of the van, someone shouted, “It’s Gi Cheonghyeon!” and simultaneously there was a chorus of shutter clicks and high-pitched screams. Even amid the chaos, he made eye contact person by person and greeted them.
Then he hesitated in front of one woman’s camera. Mask, sunglasses, cap pulled down—utterly ordinary. But he just… instinctively felt he had to stop. It was only a split second in the wider flow, but time seemed to slow as he looked straight into the lens. He felt as if their eyes met through the camera. When the shutter sounded, he gave a faint smile with a nod and walked into the station as if nothing had happened.
“Wow, Cheonghyeon. Did you really lose your memory?”
“Pardon? Yes.”
Once they’d pushed through the crowd and it quieted inside, the manager hurried to him, lowering his voice.
“How did you pick Gideon out in that mess? Your body must remember.”
At those words, his legs stopped on their own.
“That was Gideon?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know? That’s wild. I was worried you’d get hurt, there were so many people, but idol instincts are idol instincts, huh? You spotted your debut-era fansite master and posed….”
The manager’s chatter receded. Then, noticing he wasn’t following, he called, “Cheonghyeon?”
Only then did he get moving again toward the studio. Gideon was probably one of those “people whose body and soul are exceptionally well-matched so they can see the essence,” as the psychopomp had said.
No wonder, at the moment of the shutter, he had felt her own startlement reach him. When she lowered the camera to look again, he had simply smiled and walked by.
What should he do about this…
At the studio, everyone was scurrying about. The shoot would be in two parts. The writers, having already received the general criteria from the client, had lined up listings through realtors.
First, he and the MC would do a brief interview with the client and tour the listings the writers had secured; second, two days later, they’d gather in studio to watch a quick cut and have the panel discuss it.
“Hello.”
Which camera was he supposed to look at? After a moment’s indecision, he decided to just look at the client. Better than wandering around searching for a lens.
“I—I, um, am looking for a place to live with a friend.”
When he fixed his gaze on her, the client’s face flushed as if it would burst. It was winter, and the studio had the heat cranked; with the lights, it was sweltering.
Sweat was running down. She must have been quite hot. The many cameras also had her nervous; she stammered, speaking softly.
“Would you like some water?”
Without thinking, he opened the bottled water beside him and handed it over. The MC next to him laughed too loudly and chimed in.
“Great start~. Does this mean Ms. Min-hee will choose a listing from our team? You’re good at this, Cheonghyeon.”
A wave of laughter rolled through the crew. The client also seemed to relax a bit, smiling brightly. Only Cheonghyeon, unable to follow the mirth, hovered with an awkward smile.
“Ahem, ahem. I’m looking for a place to live with a friend I’ve known for fifteen years. My friend commutes to Seocho, so somewhere close to there would be great. tThe closer to their company, the better. And I’m a cooking YouTuber, so I’d like a big kitchen. Also, since this is somewhere we’ll stay long-term, the more the unit includes, the better. I’d rather put money into the home than into appliances.”
“So you mean to keep living there. Purchase rather than lease?”
“Yes. Jeonse is okay too, but I’d prefer if we could focus on buying.”
“Sure, and it’d be nice to have a generous options list. If it’s near Seocho, prices won’t be gentle.”
“Right. Since my friend’s a civil servant, they probably won’t be changing jobs much, so I figured we’d just buy there.”
Unlike the MC, who handled questions smoothly, Cheonghyeon was a little stiff. He kept his eyes on the client but silently rehearsed the line he’d need to deliver in a moment.
“Now, we need to ask the most important thing… the budget is—”
“Up to three billion won is possible.”
The highest figure the program had seen. A max of 3 billion. The MC next to him exaggerated his surprise. They’d probably punch in a close-up of the MC’s face and slap “3 billion” across the screen.
Cheonghyeon didn’t miss his cue; the instant the client finished, he put on a surprised face, then delivered his one line as if he’d been waiting for it.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find you the best home.”
Nailing his line perfectly at a tense moment filled him with pride, and his eyes naturally curved into crescents. The serious face he’d worn while listening softened into a melting smile, and the set fell silent for a moment.
Perhaps the sudden quiet felt strange; he tilted his black-haired head, everyone exhaled, and the noise returned.
“Cheonghyeon! Are you allowed to start ‘selling’ already? We may be on the same team, but come on!”
Laughter burst out again, and the client blushed even redder than before; Cheonghyeon was only more puzzled.
Was that ad-libbing?
My line is done. Am I supposed to volley back with something too…?
Not knowing what to say, he decided to just smile. Was the MC also a kind of emotional-labor worker? Entertainers are service workers dealing with people, so it fits.
The public-service line he’d seen at S Electronics’ service center the other day popped into his head. Just as he’d done for the repair technician then, he met the MC’s eyes and beamed. This time, the MC, sweating profusely, raised his voice.
“Huh? Huh~? Now even at me? I’m not the client! I’m not the one buying a house!!!”
Another round of laughter broke from the production side, but Cheonghyeon still couldn’t catch the flow.
Ah… I just want to go home.
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