Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 172
Chapter Title: Randa's Women (1)
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"Hmm... You're doing quite well."
Angel's House. Lounge and waiting room all in one. Miss Coco said.
She was dressed casually in comfortable pants and a white shirt, teaching Oliver the art of makeup.
"You've finished applying the base cream, so let's move on to the next step."
Coco held out a container labeled with "tone-up cream."
Oliver looked at the cream jar and asked.
"What's that?"
"It makes the skin brighter and clearer. It's a subtle difference, but that's where skin's value lies—in the fine details."
"And what I just applied?"
"That's the primer to prep for the base work. You asked me to teach you, so I am, but are you going to keep nitpicking, or actually apply it while learning?"
Oliver immediately apologized and took the cream jar as instructed, applying it to the woman in front of him just as she directed.
The woman was an employee at Angel's House, volunteering as Oliver's practice partner for learning makeup techniques.
She'd had a faint smile on her lips for a while now, clearly amused.
"Apply it gently. Gently. Didn't anyone teach you that women need to be handled with care?"
"First time hearing that."
Oliver meant it sincerely, but for some reason, the women around him just giggled.
"Can I ask if everyone's just here to watch?"
"Who knows? This is the staff lounge and waiting room, so they don't have anywhere else to go. Plus, it's just novel to see."
"See what?"
"A man getting scolded by a woman while seriously learning makeup... Apply it properly!"
Coco barked in a playful tone full of mischief.
Oliver carefully applied the tone-up cream in time with her scolding.
The women around them giggled again at the sight.
He had no idea how things had ended up like this.
Accepting Jane's request and agreeing to bodyguard duty had gone smoothly enough.
But then suddenly, he was told to learn bodyguard etiquette?
'Given the venue, you need to pick up those manners. Bodyguards represent the employer's grace and status. I'll teach you the essentials quick and dirty.'
Honestly, Oliver hadn't been keen up to that point and considered refusing.
He knew about the auction, so maybe he could sneak in another way. That's when Coco urgently proposed a deal.
'It'll come in handy later. Let's trade. Trade... If there's anything else you want, just say it. I'll give you whatever I can.'
After some thought, Oliver asked her to teach him makeup skills. Specifically, disguise makeup.
The puppetmaster Glyph's journal had said disguise was essential for corpse puppets, but there were limits to learning from text alone without practice.
He'd mentioned it on a whim, but surprisingly, Coco accepted readily. It was her specialty, she said.
"All done."
After finishing the tone-up cream, Oliver announced. Coco checked it over and spoke.
"Excellent. You've got a real talent for this. Why not go pro? We're short a makeup artist right now."
"I'm more interested in disguise than straight makeup."
"Makeup, disguise—it's all the same. Tricking the eye, fooling the target."
"In that case, I'd love to learn more. What's next?"
"Now the cover-up. Open that wide jar over there... Yes, that one. Dab it on lightly. Like this. Thin and even."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Oliver dabbed on the powdery liquid makeup as Coco instructed.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
His practice partner smiled as she answered.
"See? Nice and fair now, pretty, right?"
"Hmm... I suppose?"
"What did I tell you about talking to women?"
"You're pretty."
"Perfect. But don't smile. You look like a creepy broken doll."
The women burst into giggles again.
With that, Coco taught him the rest of the process.
Eyebrows, under-eyes, nose, forehead—layering makeup with pencils and brushes to highlight the face.
Finishing touches on top.
Using bold blush for shading to add vitality and naturalness, defining the eye line sharply.
Finally, curling lashes and mascara for the brows, lipstick over the lips.
It felt just like painting on a canvas.
"Hmm, excellent work."
"Thank you."
"No empty praise. I taught you the basics quick, and you picked it up already. Impressive."
She meant it. He'd learned bodyguard duties and makeup in a crash course, but Oliver absorbed it at an astonishing speed.
At this level, he could make a corpse puppet's face look almost human.
"As promised, I'll teach you taping and rubber mask techniques later."
Taping pulled facial skin tight with tape to alter expressions; rubber masks were custom-made from special rubber.
They were advanced disguise skills that Sisterhood negotiators and spies used—even their own mothers wouldn't recognize them.
'Most women here don't even know their birth mothers, though.'
A bit of dark, self-deprecating humor.
Anyway, Oliver nodded in satisfaction.
"Understood. I'll come learn later. Thank you for the excellent lesson."
"No, no—it was fun teaching someone who learns so well. But don't tell me you've forgotten the bodyguard stuff just because you learned makeup. Recite what I taught you?"
"A bodyguard isn't just protection—they're also an accessory that elevates the employer's dignity."
That was the first lesson Oliver recited.
Unbeknownst to him, in high-society gatherings, bodyguards had to enhance their employer's prestige as much as provide security—like living jewelry.
Clothing must be impeccable, protection seamless from any angle, never more conspicuous than the employer, yet superior to anyone else.
And in this rough city, they represented the employer's martial might—no one could look down on them.
"—Which is why you said bodyguards sometimes fight each other."
"Luckily, it's not common. As long as it doesn't devolve into childish ego clashes. But the elite can be petty in weird ways—you can't call them above it."
"So, be cautious."
"You remember everything. Excellent... Alright, let's run through the practice again? Pretend I'm the protectee."
As Coco suggested, Oliver took position at her right rear.
Not too close, not too far.
Coco walked, and Oliver followed at the trained distance, silent as a shadow.
"When walking, don't crowd the protectee—keep a comfortable pace."
"Understood."
"Don't speak first. Only respond to the protectee's requests."
"Understood."
"Speak to the protectee in whispers. Remember how?"
Oliver covered his mouth with one hand behind his back, speaking low, concise, precise.
"Understood."
Jane smiled, satisfied.
"Perfect. Now, change and get ready to go? We've got time, but early prep never hurts."
Oliver nodded, shed his work clothes, and reached for the new suit.
It was custom-made from [For the Gentleman], the shop Coco mentioned last time—quite pricey, as she'd said.
The lining used special materials for bulletproof-level protection; main clients were wealthy fixers or mercenary officers dealing with the elite.
In other words, Oliver had reached that level now.
"Hey."
Coco stared at him, looking somewhat exasperated.
"Yes? Miss Coco?"
"What do you mean? Don't change here—go over there. Even if you want to show off your workout bod, this isn't the way."
Under the women's stares, Coco pointed to the changing room.
Oliver glanced, let out an "Ah..." sigh, and went in.
Moments later, he emerged.
In the black suit from [For the Gentleman], plain but luxurious in color, sheen, and texture—perfect for bodyguard work without drawing eyes.
The nearby shop girls murmured approvingly, "Ooh..."
Clap. Clap.
"Alright, everyone back to work. Break's over. Dave, you're with me now."
"Yes."
Oliver answered and followed Coco out. As they left, the women—back in their uniforms—waved cheerfully.
"See you next time."
"Loved watching you do makeup. You've got talent."
"If you wanna work here, come back. I'll put in a good word with Mama."
Oliver replied to each one politely as he exited.
Walking beside him, Coco said.
"Our girls are all sweet, huh?"
"Hmm... Yes."
"Heh heh. Lying for us too—how kind."
She was right.
The staff here had all been friendly and welcoming to Oliver, but beneath it lurked sharp calculation.
"Don't hate them too much for it. A woman alone, no money or backing, surviving this brutal city? She has to sell smiles off her looks and scheme to live halfway human."
Coco spoke earnestly, as if including herself.
Once in the car with her, Oliver asked.
"Is this the same principle?"
"Huh? What?"
"Why you're helping Jane like this."
Coco paused, genuinely pondering, not feigning.
"Hmm... Yeah, pretty much. If she succeeds, we do too."
Coco explained that the Sisterhood started as powerless women banding for survival, but as it grew with capital, its nature shifted from the early days.
"Not sure if that's good or bad."
"......"
"As the Sisterhood expanded, our voice, power, and perks grew too, but that early tight-knit bond faded. So, making new friends means bringing gifts."
Exactly. Jane hadn't bought auction entry on a whim.
It was to snag a gift to connect with one of the Sisterhood's big spenders.
That whale led a group of female tycoons dominating a chunk of Randa's capital markets, naturally sharing profits and influence with her allies.
"Lucky timing—a slot opened in her group. If Jane gets in, it'll be huge for us."
"Hm... Then we need something expensive."
"Doesn't have to be."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she's already rich. She accepts gifts to gauge the giver's eye or savvy. Can you spot undervalued gems? High-potential items? Or pull off a coup beyond your means?"
Huh... More complicated than expected.
But one question lingered.
"Still, do you really need to hire me? Wouldn't saving that money buy a better gift?"
Coco replied as if she'd been waiting.
"You know Randa's the world's top city—but also a savage one ruled by violence?"
"Didn't before, but I do now."
"Heh... Anyway, elites aren't different. They flaunt wealth, influence, and private guards disguised as bodyguards. Not overt threats, but sly intimidation."
"Even at auctions?"
"Not every time, but it happens. That's why we hired you—for the what-ifs. Strongest and most reliable in our circle."
Surprisingly, Coco smiled sincerely.
"You're too kind."
"Fix that attitude."
"Pardon?"
"I'm advising as a favor since you're helping us. In Randa, humility isn't a virtue."
"Wasn't aiming for humble, but I'll take the advice."
Coco gave him an odd look, like he was bizarre, then changed topics.
"Anyway, if Jane connects there, some crumbs fall to her friends like us. That's why we're all in."
"Really just that?"
His casual probe made Coco's expression flicker—briefly.
"Ugh, enough. In Randa, sentimental stuff ends at sixteen... Ah, we're here."
Jane's driver-cum-bodyguard pulled up to the mansion.
Jane stood out front in a black dress.
"Ah, you made it?"