Hair Fetish Shock and the Burning Fashion Gallery
The Burning Fashion Minor Gallery—a hair fetishist? His brain was freezing at this unimaginable sexual fantasy. Why on earth would someone be into hair?
Of course, Seo Joo-hwan had always envied people with great hair texture. But getting aroused by hair? That's just weird, right? To him, it was utterly incomprehensible to feel sexual excitement over mere strands of hair.
...The world has as many fetishes as there are people. After a brief internal struggle, he accepted reality surprisingly quickly. Hey, who was he to judge? If loving hair was someone's thing, so be it. He'd already seen plenty of wild ones—like fat admiration or teddy bear fetishism. Hell, even his little sister had globe phobia....
Seo Joo-hwan decided to respect diverse tastes.
"Is something wrong? Don't like the haircut?"
The stylist, Shin Ha-neul, asked cautiously.
Snapping out of his daze, he startled and brushed it off. "Oh, no, nothing like that."
She tilted her head curiously. Seo Joo-hwan gave an awkward smile and sneaked a glance at her chest in the mirror. A name tag pinned to her ample bosom.
Guess the status window name was a pseudonym. It showed Shin Ha-neul, but the tag read 'Shin Bada.' Probably a work alias for the salon.
Shin Ha-neul smiled again. "You must have put on perfume. Smells great. Mind if I ask what kind?"
Thanks to his Pheromone skill, a scent wafting from Seo Joo-hwan naturally drew women's favor. He couldn't exactly spill the truth.
"Ah, sorry. My close dongsaengs got it for me, so I just sprayed it without checking."
"No need to apologize! But sprucing up with cologne too? Must be an important date."
"Uh... yeah, something like that."
"Ooh, with a girl?"
"A girl, yeah, but..."
"Oh my! Not meeting a girlfriend—you're going to make one. Gotta style you extra handsome then."
"Haha, please do."
"Leave it to me."
She beamed. Seo Joo-hwan smiled back, though a chill ran down his spine. Whoa, talk about professional spirit.
Shin Ha-neul's kindness was all performative. Her status window showed favorability at E-rank—near dislike, just above indifferent D-rank. Without pheromones, it might've hit repulsive F-rank. Impressive she kept up the chatter and smiles anyway. True pro.
Why does she hate me? Am I that ugly just from the face...? The thought bummed him out. He'd never considered himself ugly—pretty satisfied, actually.
As melancholy set in, Shin Ha-neul finished up. "Sir, you don't take good care of your hair, do you? It's badly damaged."
Her voice stayed kind and soft. Yet it sent shivers. Like a chill laced her words.
Feeling caught, he stammered defensively. "Y-yeah... Army life made it tough to manage..."
"Oh? Plenty manage in the military. What shampoo do you use? Conditioner? Treatments?"
"Uh... not sure."
He'd never stuck to brands—just grabbed anti-hair-loss stuff online. Skipped conditioner and treatments entirely.
She paused, voice trembling slightly. "You don't... wash with soap, do you?"
"Pardon?"
"Hoho, just checking—your hair's in rough shape."
"Ah, in the army I used soap..."
Clang. Her scissors hit the floor.
He rushed to add, "...but lately I've been using shampoo."
"......"
Silence. The mirror showed her face freeze momentarily. S-scary.
Shin Ha-neul spoke in disbelief, her practiced kindness slipping. "You really washed with soap?"
"Y-yes..."
"Haa... No wonder it's wrecked—er, damaged like this."
Did her inner voice slip? Must be his imagination. Seo Joo-hwan shut up.
She sighed deeply. "Sir, hair is delicate. Neglect like yours damages follicles and scalp. Makes styling hard later, and scalp issues lead to hair loss."
"H-hair loss?"
"Not sure if you know, but it looks like it's already starting."
"R-really?"
"Yes."
Firm nod. Seo Joo-hwan's face paled in horror. Hair loss isn't gone?! He'd thought karma fix cleared it. But drawing hair nutritionals in item pulls with luck buffs? Telling sign.
She tsked, shaking her head like he'd finally grasped it. Then softened. "Don't worry, Seo Joo-hwan-ssi. How old? Fresh discharge—twenty-three?"
"Yes, spot on."
"Plenty of time. Not M-shaped, circular pattern—reversible. I'll recommend shampoo, conditioner, treatments, nutritionals. Manage well from now."
"That many?"
"Wanna go bald?"
"N-no!"
"Then listen. Hair needs care like skin—from youth, consistently."
"Got it..."
The world of hair runs deep. He nodded agreeably. Better late than never. Recommendations from a hair fetishist? Instant trust. Her own locks gleamed flawlessly.
Staring, he blurted admiration. "Looks amazing."
"Pardon?"
"Ah, no—your hair, stylist-nim. So soft-looking."
"Oh, thanks! I work hard at it. Hehe."
Shin Ha-neul's favorability has risen to E+.
Huh.
*
"Shampoo time."
"Sure."
A thin towel over his eyes. She lathered up. Lifting his head for the back, he tensed unconsciously—head heavy?
"Relax your neck. Easier that way."
"Ah, okay."
He eased up, embarrassed. Good thing the towel blocked his view.
Whoosh. Rinse, then conditioner. Her gentle scalp massage felt... off increasingly.
"Ugh?"
"Uncomfortable?"
"N-no, fine."
Liar. Nothing major, but her strokes were oddly sensual. Conditioner's for hair anyway—why scalp so much?
Doubt hit as her nails raked from crown to nape along the ridge.
"Hng?"
"Ah, itchy here, huh."
"Y-yeah..."
"Hehe. Almost done—bear it."
Shin Ha-neul's favorability has risen to D-rank.
Favorability up again. Seo Joo-hwan blinked in confusion. Praising her hair earlier? Fair. But now?
Lucy's voice chimed.
I think I know why.
Lucy rarely spoke unprompted outside system aid. Unusual.
Why?
Guess: Master's scalp sensitivity thrills her.
What?
Hair fetishist—loves sensitive scalps, no?
My scalp's sensitive? Bull. Pre-regression, never an issue. Eye-scratching? Just habit. He denied it—normal guy here.
Precisely nape ridge to neck. Sensitive spot for most.
That makes sense. Not some freak.
Then—scraaaape. Nails down the ridge again.
Hk. Mild goosebumps, body twitched. Weaker than dick-tease, but caressing vibe. Partly his sensitivity, mostly her erotic touch.
He admitted: Nape was erogenous, at least.
Proof? Little bro in stealth mode, size-shifted. He clamped legs to hide.
Did that tip her? "Oh? Hehe."
Her whisper sounded delighted.
Shin Ha-neul's favorability has risen to D+.
Stop rising already...
***
"Thanks for your hard work~."
"Ah, yeah. You too, stylist-nim."
"Hehe. Name's Shin Ha-neul. Come again~."
"...Sure."
Why drop her real name suddenly? Seo Joo-hwan bolted out.
Identity crisis incoming... Sensitive nape? Fact he'd rather unlearn.
Fetishes vary—Master might have one too.
Mine doesn't show in status?
Rust-ssi who made me deemed it unnecessary.
...Good. Better off. Weird label would've bugged him more. Ignorance bliss sometimes.
Like that killer he caught—fantasy of rape, dismemberment, murder. Fetishes mostly innate, some learned. No need prying Pandora's box.
No more that salon?
...Regular now.
*
Hair done—next, clothes.
Buy there? 1st Street had a future-famous shop: Style Completion, aka Swan. Short for that, and swan-like transformation promise.
Young woman owner, killer at outfit combos by style.
Too timid back then. Not bad luck fear—hated clerk chats. Bought online or solo-shops.
Now? Request styling. Lacked confidence pretty dressing.
Truth: Athletic wear aside, Seo Joo-hwan was fashion terrorist.
Expectant, he arrived.
『Preparing to open.』
"Ah..."
Sigh. Swan prepping. Disappointed, he headed underground mall.
Quantity over quality then. Bulk buy, something'd fit.
*
6:30 PM now. Salon, shopping took time, but early start meant 30 mins ahead schedule.
Seo Joo-hwan entered the cafe. Planned wait inside anyway.
Seated, he checked Men's Fashion Minor Gallery—posted bulk buys for combo advice.
Bitter smile scanning replies. He'd begged.
Aggro from "girl"? Comments exploded.
Followed advice, repurchased. Better at glance. Confident, snapped fit pic, reposted.
More comments.
Gallery ablaze. Posts, comments, reposts, rinse-repeat.
Two hours later.
Gallery calmed.
Seo Joo-hwan read thoroughly, wry smile, scratching eye. Knew he sucked at fashion, but this bad? He was the terrorist.
Gallery sensitive? First buys seemed fine. Gallery users'd clutch pearls.
Sipping Americano, Kakao pinged.
"Time flies."
20 mins passed. Replied.
"Said slow..." (1) lingered—rushing.
Watching door, woman entered. Shoulder-length wavy bob, round silver glasses—intellectual vibe.
Choi Mi-hwa? Last meet: makeup-smeared mess from tears. Totally different.
She glanced, tilted head, scanned. Eyes met—then turned away. Weird.
Her, right? Stood, approached. She tilted again, then eyes widened.
"A-Author-nim?"
Choi Mi-hwa startled for some reason.