Flower-Applied Man (1)
The empty village lot had a stage erected overnight. Though it was nothing more than a hastily assembled platform, the sight still felt excessive. All this fuss just to commemorate the completion of a single outfit and call it a “promotional costume showcase”?
‘The villagers must have been terribly bored. Heh.’
The residents studying at the night school had overheard Josh trailing after Patrick and, in a burst of shared enthusiasm, built the stage together through the night. The Village Chief could almost taste how starved his people had been for any kind of entertainment.
At the very moment the villagers waited with bright, expectant eyes, a voice rang out from behind the stage.
“I’m not doing it.”
“But, Patrick, sir…! You promised to leave the promotional outfit entirely in my hands!”
“Even so, this is going too far. I refuse!”
“B-but…!”
Josh clung to him in a fluster, yet Patrick made no effort to hide his sulky attitude. Still, he had his reasons.
‘Didn’t you say you’d make the outfit that suits me best? And this is supposed to be it? Seriously?’
He had been so excited on the way backstage earlier.
— A tailcoat, maybe? Or a noble’s party attire? A uniform? A dazzling mage-style robe would be nice too! Something sparkling like my blond hair, dripping with technique! The finest silk from the distant Eastern Continent, embroidered stitch by stitch into a pattern found nowhere else in the world!
It was the kind of thrill an idol might feel receiving a new concept, or a model stepping onto the runway.
— Here it is!
But the moment Patrick laid eyes on the garment Josh presented, he was speechless.
“This is just a farmer’s outfit! No way! I’m not doing it! I’m not wearing it!”
Indeed, what Josh had created was an utterly ordinary, characterless, white tunic with wide sleeves and loose brown linen trousers—the sort any villager might already own.
‘Is he messing with me? Is this some kind of hidden camera prank?’
Convinced that the outfit best suited to his face could never be something so plain, Patrick began rummaging through the backstage area.
“Stop joking around and give me my real clothes. This isn’t funny at all!”
“If you would just try it on, I’m certain your opinion will change! Won’t you trust me, even once?”
The sincerity shining in Josh’s eyes only made Patrick’s temper flare hotter. The tailor had looked at this face and still produced nothing better than this.
“No, look at me. Actually, you don’t even need to look closely. Even a glance tells you, doesn’t it? I look like a prince!”
The honest words slipped out. It was a little embarrassing to say aloud, but surely this face should inspire something more than… this.
Just then, a memory from his previous life flashed through Patrick’s mind.
— Whoa, Kim Jeong-pal! You dressed up today? What’s this? That shirt’s insane. And the bag’s luxury too! Who’re you meeting?
One day his classmate had shown up in full designer regalia for a blind date arranged by a mutual friend. Unfortunately, the department’s most notorious predator happened to be in the same lecture hall.
— …Whoa.
The senior wore only plain jeans and a featureless white T-shirt. He needed no branded clothes, no luxury bag or shoes. His balanced 187-centimeter frame was the brand; his neatly arranged features were the luxury item.
“…Don’t tell me that’s what this is.”
“…Pardon?”
Patrick’s philtrum stretched long as he fought back laughter.
“Say it! My looks are already perfect, so I don’t need anything flashier! Hah— and here I thought you were just a promising tailor. To think you had such depth! Sorry, sorry. I was too harsh earlier, wasn’t I? I was just slow to recognize true art. Heh-heh.”
“Ah… Yes, well…”
Though startled by the sudden change in attitude, Josh nodded eagerly once it seemed Patrick’s anger had cooled. There might be a slight misunderstanding, but getting him into the outfit and onto the stage was the priority.
Oren and the Village Chief offered brief greetings, explained that the promotional costume was groundwork for selling men’s cosmetics, and then the long-awaited moment finally arrived.
“Introducing the promotional model and concept for the men’s cosmetics line that will lead the future of the Oren Merchant Group!”
Thump— thump—
Since the island had no proper instruments, the villagers beat makeshift leather drums to stir excitement. With a dramatic swish, the curtain rose and Patrick strode onto the stage in a grand pose, shoulders squared and stride wide, hypnotizing himself into believing he was a supermodel.
“……”
“……?”
“……Didn’t they say he’d be wearing something impressive?”
“Wait, maybe he means he’ll change now!”
“Change now? Onstage?”
“Good heavens, how scandalous!”
The only response was the villagers’ lukewarm reaction.
“……Josh?”
“Yes?”
“Could you come here for a moment?”
Oren was equally bewildered. In the end, the showcase concluded without a single round of applause, the awkwardness made tangible.
“Clap, clap, clap!”
“Walk faster! Chin higher!”
“Hee-hee, this is fun!”
Only the children, delighted with their new playground, mimicked their teacher and paraded across the stage again and again.
“If time is short, I’ll give you more. If cost is the issue, I’ll provide additional funds as well.”
“That isn’t the problem, Guild Master!”
“Then why…!”
Oren was less angry than utterly flustered. Josh struggled to explain his intentions to the bewildered client while Patrick stood with arms crossed, merely observing—or rather, speaking whatever came to mind without reading the room.
“By the way, once the portrait is finished, can I keep this outfit too?”
“……Of course, Mage. As you wish.”
What mattered to Patrick was whether he would gain one more free set of clothes.
‘It’s surprisingly high quality, though.’
At first glance it had seemed like nothing more than a plain white tunic and linen trousers, yet the longer he wore it, the more its true value revealed itself. He didn’t know how the pattern had been cut, but the fabric clung smoothly, softer than silk, and utterly comfortable with not a single point of irritation. Moreover, without any flashy frills or ornaments, the natural loose folds somehow grew more elegant the longer one looked.
‘I heard real rich people prefer luxury goods without visible logos.’
He had never understood why anyone would spend that much money on such things, but perhaps that was simply the sensibility of the truly wealthy. Even now he couldn’t be certain what the rich were thinking, yet if he had to guess, maybe they pursued exactly this—an aura of understated refinement that only those who could recognize its worth would appreciate, with the quiet confidence that it didn’t matter if others didn’t.
‘Hah!’
Patrick’s ego swelled rapidly.
“Oren, sir. Please consider this. Do you truly believe there exists any outfit that would not suit Patrick?”
“……Hmm.”
Meanwhile, Josh was desperately trying to persuade Oren.
“That was precisely why I requested a full month. If anything looks good on him, then what sort of outfit should I create?”
“Then why not make something flashy? The painting will hang prominently in the merchant house; it needs to catch every passerby’s eye at once…!”
“And would people still buy the men’s cosmetics after that?”
“……?”
Oren’s words caught in his throat.
“If a handsome man dressed like a high noble says, ‘Wear this and you can become like me,’ who in their right mind would believe him?”
“Ahem! But wearing ordinary clothes doesn’t change one’s appearance either!”
“Do you know what I learned during my five years working in the tailoring shop?”
Oren shook his head.
“People possess far more self-love than you might think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly as I said. Most people focus on their strengths rather than their flaws and think, ‘With looks like mine, I’m perfectly fine.’ Far more often than one would expect. Flashy adornments, however, are another matter.”
“Hmm. What are your thoughts, Mage? Might I ask for your esteemed opinion?”
Having never considered the matter before, Oren finally surrendered and turned to Patrick. Since the men’s cosmetics were more likely to appeal to younger customers than middle-aged men like himself, he judged that the opinions of someone closer in age to the target demographic were important.
“Forget everything else—if a ridiculously handsome guy who looks like he’s drowning in money says, ‘Put this on and you can be like me,’ it probably won’t work. We’d be lucky if people didn’t curse at us instead.”
Thus the first concept meeting concluded. Still uneasy, Oren added a condition before departing the island: “We’ll proceed with this for now, but if the reaction is poor, we’ll change the promotional painting immediately.”
“W-wait, why me…?”
“You still have to make my clothes, don’t you? You’re not getting away that easily.”
***
Though the tailor, the model, and even the painter who had drawn the portrait all insisted the concept was perfect, Oren remained anxious. After all, the one spending the large sum of money was himself.
‘Did I make a mistake starting this?’
Regret flickered, but the water was already spilled.
“Guild Master! The samples are ready. Shall we put them on display right away?”
“Oh! Yes, let’s do it! We need to gauge the reaction starting today. I’m still uneasy, you see.”
Unable to contain his anxiety even before full-scale production began, the financier launched sales far earlier than planned.
“Kyaa! Hey, if you suddenly stop in the middle of the road— …What is this?”
“What in the world is that painting…?”
When a large portrait was hung on the busiest outer wall of the Oren Merchant Group, passersby halted in their tracks. Beneath the bright sunlight, a young farmer was thinning the branches of a cherry tree, beads of sweat on his brow. Though not heavily muscled, he wiped his forehead with long fingers and smiled brightly at the ripe cherries, while children laughed and played around him. Behind them stretched a pastoral, leisurely countryside scene.
“……The Flower-Applied Man?”
The unfamiliar phrase written beneath the flawless painting caught everyone’s eye.