Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Modern Man's Constitution Improvement (3)
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It was still before winter had fully set in, right when I was getting close to Erika.
That's when Captain Johann Werner suddenly sent me a letter asking me to be a model for an ad.
Apparently, Ossel was producing some promotional material to improve their image, and they said no one gave off a more pathetic and groveling vibe than me.
I was pissed off by all the insults crammed into the letter, but since I was the one on a leash from him—or more precisely, the one who wanted to be—I swallowed my curses and headed to the shoot.
I took the tram to the address in the letter, and it led me to a flashy studio in the affluent part of the 13th District.
Snowy white building walls, a big signboard with modern lettering.
I rang the doorbell, the door opened, and out came a man with a pipe in his mouth. He had that "I'm an artist!" look, which nearly made me laugh.
"What brings you here?"
"I'm Lucas Redan. Here for the ad modeling gig."
"Ah! That guy. I've heard the story. Come on in."
The studio inside was spacious and dim.
Just like the ad shoots I'd visited back in Korea while hustling sales, there were white cloth backdrops on the walls and various props scattered around.
I sat on the shooting sofa in the corner, watching people bustle about preparing, when a boy who looked like the photographer's assistant came running over and handed me a bundle of cloth.
"Here's your outfit for today. Change in the dressing room over there."
"......This is the outfit?"
"Something wrong with it?"
"No, nothing."
I headed to the dressing room, feeling dubious. It was a ragged cloth garment, torn up and stained with grime.
'What kind of role are they making me play......'
I pushed down the ominous feeling and stepped out. Next, the makeup artist dragged me off and applied fake wounds to my face and limbs.
When they said it was done, I looked in the mirror and saw a zombie covered in gashes staring back. Utterly pitiful.
It'd be black-and-white photos anyway, but the bruises and scars were colored so realistically.
"Hmm, pretty usable."
The photographer nodded in satisfaction as he had me spin around.
"Alright, you're a regular citizen who's been beaten up by thugs and is about to be saved by Ossel. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm a pro at getting thrashed."
He must've thought my mutter was a joke, because he let out a creepy chuckle and went off to check the camera.
'They think I'm perfect for this role? Wonder who's playing the Ossel part.'
Right then, the doorbell rang, and in walked...
"Heh."
I couldn't help but snort in disbelief.
Blond hair, blue eyes.
Lieutenant Philipp Decker, Captain Johann Werner's adjutant.
He must've gotten some magic treatment since then, or time had healed it, because the leg he'd been shot in looked fine now.
"What the—reactionary scum?! What are you doing here? Don't tell me you're my counterpart?"
He looked shocked, then sneered.
"You look ridiculous. Though it's not much different from your usual mug."
Childish prick.
I shot back a fresh smile while grumbling inwardly.
"Yeah, who would've thought we'd meet like this. I figured you'd been fired or killed by now. Kinda feels like our roles got swapped, doesn't it? Think back to last time—who ended up on their knees? Right?"
"Y-You...!"
Philipp's face turned red then purple. He raised a hand like he wanted to grab my collar, but when I crossed my arms and tilted my chin up daring him to try, he hesitated.
"Oh, you've arrived."
The photographer came rushing over. I flashed a rotten grin at Philipp as he was dragged to makeup, and he fumed even more.
A bit later, Philipp emerged with his hair slicked back dramatically and a crisp Ossel uniform. The makeup sharpened his features to the point of looking eerie, but given the era's photo tech, it was unavoidable.
"Alright, let's start shooting!"
The ad shoot was utterly humiliating.
I had to act like I was being beaten by men dressed as thugs surrounding me.
I curled up on the white-sheeted floor, grimacing as if kicks were raining down on me. They splashed water on my face to make it look like I was crying.
"More miserable expression!"
"Sniff, help me!"
"Good, good. Now, Mr. Decker enters~."
They started snapping photos of Philipp taking down the thugs with flashy martial arts moves.
Click-click, the camera shutter sounded nonstop. I endured the humiliation, eyes wide, cheering him on dramatically.
Next to the photographer, an illustrator was furiously sketching on paper.
"Final shot! Look this way and thumbs up, both of you."
Philipp grinned broadly, flashing white teeth. I raised my thumb in a pose like he was helping me up.
'Johann Werner, you bastard. You dare pull this shit on me? I'll kill you.'
I kept up an innocent smile while harboring murderous thoughts inside.
"Perfect!"
The photographer was still gushing in that sleazy tone.
I wiped off the makeup, changed back, and trudged out of the studio. Seeing Philipp leave first reminded me of something I'd forgotten.
"Lieutenant Decker, what about the pay?"
"What're you on about?"
He turned back, tilting his head.
"Modeling fee. You're not planning to work me for free, are you?"
His face twisted into a demon's scowl.
"You reactionary bastard, what nonsense is this?! It's for the nation—you should serve gladly! Me, the photographer—no one's getting paid. And you dare—"
"Not the nation, Ossel's business. Fucking dogs."
"Shut your mouth! Keep flapping, and I'll blow your head off!"
He yanked out his gun in a rage.
"Ooh, new one? After I took your last."
"You thunderbolt-headed...!"
"Whatever. Arguing with you is pointless. Tell the captain I put my heart and soul into the shoot."
It was fun poking him since he reacted every time, but pushing further might bite me later, so I patted his shoulder and turned away.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "So... you were a model for an Ossel promo ad?"
"Keep it down—it's embarrassing."
"Hahahahaha!"
Oscar pounded the table laughing his head off. Georg, who'd been stifling giggles beside him, suddenly pointed somewhere.
"Speaking of, that's Lucas too, isn't it?"
A promo poster stuck to the tavern wall.
In the four-panel comic, I was getting lynched by thugs, then praising arriving Lieutenant Philipp Decker with a beaming smile.
"Me: Ossel! You're so reliable!
> Philipp: We're the citizens' guardians. Report any danger anytime!"
The speech bubbles were ridiculous.
'Those fucking morons!'
I clutched my face against the wave of shame.
'They wanna soften Ossel's image—from terror incarnate, or rather what they've cultivated—and make it friendly. Do they really think that'll work?'
Just brain-dead trash, as expected.
Whatever blunders Ossel made weren't my problem—the sloppier they got, the better for me—but being used in their idiocy stung.
Johann probably knew that and assigned me the gig to crush my pride.
"Hold on, when was the shoot? That personal errand you mentioned, the day you didn't come see me...?"
Erika nailed it.
"Quiet, I said."
"An ad model? Aren't you getting too chummy with Ossel?"
Richard's prim tone sounded more amused than worried.
"Don't say creepy shit. And getting chummy's good—we're flies on a leash. Better cozy up to the master holding it and prove useful to survive longer."
"And whose fault is that?"
Daniel, who'd been watching the chaos, asked softly.
"Mine."
I admitted it straight, and he nodded in satisfaction.
"Anyway, the point is I didn't get paid. Even bus fare wasted at a critical time when every penny counts. So I'm a victim and accomplice in their media manipulation bullshit. Where the hell am I supposed to get money... Ah."
My embarrassed mumbling cut off abruptly.
I'd thought of it. A way to make cash.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Deep into a winter night.
Harsh snow pelted the windows, the rattling sounds stirring unease.
The cozy house was so quiet you could hear water dripping in the kitchen sink.
It was 1 a.m.
After sorting newspaper clippings and intel, I glanced at the clock and carefully stood.
I crept up the stairs to the third-floor attic of the boarding house, mindful not to let the floorboards creak.
The third floor was like a storage loft. Mrs. Schmidt had used it for junk, but now it was Oscar's bedroom.
Under faint candlelight, the barren space held just a mattress and bundles of belongings.
"Hey, wake up."
I whispered like a snake hissing, prodding Oscar asleep on the mattress. He squirmed, then opened his eyes.
"What... Already time?"
He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Daniel slipped in quietly behind me and shut the door.
"Yeah, Lucas. So, what's this discussion you wanted? Something about making money and easy retirement."
I checked the window curtains were tightly drawn, then turned.
"It could also massively boost the White Crow Unit's presence. If it goes well."
"So what is it? Spill."
Oscar urged in his hoarse, sleepy voice. I whispered what I couldn't say at the tavern.
"......You're insane?"
When I finished, Daniel and Oscar said it in unison.
"I'm not, that's why I'm asking permission first. What do you think—worth trying? If we refine it into a solid plan."
"No......"
Oscar looked speechless, Daniel gave a troubled chuckle.
"Lucas, I knew you weren't right in the head, but I didn't know it was this bad."
Oscar's blank stare annoyed me a bit.
"Seems to me you guys are the crazy ones. I got dragged into the White Crows by chance, but you formed and joined voluntarily. I'm just doing my best with the situation."
"That's... Forget it. Daniel, say something. This guy's dangerous."
Daniel stayed silent for a long beat, staring at the flickering candle, unmoving.
Then he turned to me gravely.
"You sure no one gets hurt, and it works?"
Got him.
His eyes burned with resolve.
"If it succeeds, obviously. Not saying we do it now—we gotta convince the others, get conditions right, make a detailed plan."
"Oscar. You?"
Oscar fidgeted like he needed to pee, groaning, then finally flopped back on the mattress nodding wildly.
"No choice! If it's the gateway to becoming the powerhouse you claim, we gotta cross it. Hiding forever gets us nowhere."
"Spot on."
"Alright. Round up the others."
A few days later, heated debate erupted among the rest when we shared the plan, but we got unanimous approval.
Oscar's logic—"No risk, no progress"—hit home.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Schupaven's public safety is pretty unstable.
Lüdelheim, as a major city, sees incidents daily: theft, violence, arson, murder.
Even in a dictatorship with Ossel lurking, without dense CCTV or dashcams like my old era, surveillance has gaps everywhere.
Sure, there are monitoring spells, but mages are rare—no wasting them on every citizen.
Maybe pinpoint major dissidents.
For someone used to digital security and gadgets, it was a godsend.
Mid-December, amid year-end bustle and New Year's fest prep.
The incident started small.
📰 Local News "Another disappearance in the 13th District... Dozens per year—highest rate of missing persons crimes in Lüdelheim."