Who Is This?
On my quest to find my coordination.
The CEO looked thrilled from her very first step.
"I've got plenty of ideas — how many outfits should I put together for you?"
The picture had already blossomed fully in her head, and she apparently meant to cull only the very best from it.
What is this.
She was talking as if she'd been quietly observing my wardrobe all this time, stockpiling ideas for exactly this occasion.
On top of that, she seemed not just excited but genuinely relieved.
So she's a stylish dresser, and my one-note outfits were really *that* hopeless?
Still, if I burned all our time on clothes shopping, there wouldn't be any left to actually hang out with her.
So, as originally planned:
"Three should be plenty."
"Three. Okay. Let's go."
It would have been perfectly fine to linger over a cup of tea and stretch things out a little.
But apparently even that time was too precious for her to waste.
Her long legs ate up the floor in great strides, while I had to scurry along just to keep pace.
No need to complain about the speed.
After all, I'm the kind of person who always falls in step with wherever the CEO leads.
And so, when we'd circled nearly the entire wide, figure-eight-shaped floor of the mall—
"Here it is."
The CEO drifted into a shop as if in a trance.
The entrance looked just like every other clothing store, so I hadn't realized.
Only once we were inside did it become clear.
…This is a children's clothing store?
I was briefly confused by the stylish pieces clearly designed to satisfy kids who wanted to look grown-up.
But in the end, the real target of every item here was the parents' hearts, so most of it was overwhelmingly cute.
I tugged at the sleeve of the CEO, who was happily rifling through the racks, and asked pointedly.
"This place sells kids' clothes."
"You're a kid."
"I am not a kid…."
"Your height says otherwise. Excuse me — would it be all right to try this on?"
"The fitting rooms are over there."
"Thank you. Let's go."
"No, hold on—"
The CEO dragged me bodily into a fitting room and declared:
"You said it yourself. You'd leave it all to me."
"I never said you could dress me in children's clothes."
"They're only children's clothes in name. Really, I've just found the coordination that suits you best? Besides, actual full-grown adults with tiny builds do wear kids' clothes all the time. It's what fits them best, honestly."
"…Really?"
"If I put you in ready-to-wear adult sizes, nothing fits right and the clothes never fall nicely. I'm telling you."
Now, at last, I felt I understood a little why this body of mine had stubbornly stuck to two-piece suits even as my tenure grew and I settled into company life.
Yes, rotating through a variety of outfits was a hassle — but more than that, I hated being treated like a child at the office.
I was a working professional, doing my job and living my life with my chin up, yet everywhere I went people insisted on treating me like a kid. So I made a point of it through my clothes:
I am an adult!
But I'd made a promise to the CEO, and throwing a tantrum now and demanding different clothes was its own kind of hassle.
They're just casual clothes, anyway.
It's not like I'd have much occasion to wear them.
And knowing her, the CEO would insist on at least one formal outfit as well.
The whole reason we'd come clothes shopping was, after all, the Pazizik year-end party in a few days—
…So which one am I supposed to put on first?
* * *
It would be a lie to say Do-hee had no ulterior motives in taking charge of today's coordination.
I mean, come on — it's Mazia.
Practically the company's sole designated cutie.
When a tiny girl wanders around an office otherwise packed with grim, dark-hearted adults, she stands out. And when that same person also reads the room beautifully and shows genuine consideration for everyone, she naturally becomes the mood-maker.
She was so effective that the moment Mazia would appear between two people in the middle of a heated argument, the whole atmosphere would shift toward reconciliation.
Partly it's that just looking at Mazia makes you smile, and partly it's the faint guilt of having made her run over to mediate in the first place — either way, things got resolved amicably.
So even when Mazia skipped a company dinner, her name never once failed to come up at the table.
And the topic that surfaced every single time was Mazia's fashion.
Everyone wondered.
What would Ji-a look like in something other than that two-piece suit?
Do-hee was the only one who'd found out, tagging along with Ji-a to internet cafés a handful of times and glimpsing Mazia's casual wear.
And she realized instantly.
Mazia.
Fashion sense: absolute zero.
No wonder she clung to that two-piece suit — she simply didn't know the first thing about fashion and wore the most inoffensive thing available, full stop.
Do-hee, who poured enormous care into her own casual outfits, couldn't possibly have missed it.
And so Do-hee's objective today was crystal clear.
One supreme coordination, the one that suited Mazia best.
One formal ensemble for the Pazizik year-end party.
And finally, outfits simple enough that fashion-illiterate Mazia could actually wear them without thinking.
Granted, this followed in direct order the primal instincts of the Fashion King dwelling within Cheon Do-hee's heart….
But true creation demands a burning desire behind it, and only reaches perfection when that desire is properly tempered and blended with crowd-pleasing touches.
And thus, it was born.
The cutest Mazia in the world!
"Amazing."
Do-hee, adjusting Mazia's clothes as she stepped out of the fitting room, was left speechless.
She'd merely layered suspender skirt, a thick blouse, and a knit cardigan over the fleece leggings Mazia had come in wearing — and yet the parents shopping there couldn't stop sneaking glances at her.
No doubt they were taking mental notes to dress up their own little ones.
After snapping photos with unrelenting enthusiasm for a while, Do-hee turned to Ji-a.
"Hey. You look like a completely different person all dressed up like that."
Mazia walked over to the mirror and tilted her head. Then she came back to face Do-hee and delivered a line for the ages.
"I look pretty much exactly like I did a minute ago?"
"What do you mean, 'pretty much'? It's night and day."
"I genuinely cannot tell."
"That's because you're fashion-illiterate. This one. We'll take it — we're wearing it out."
"What? Right now?"
Roughly a hundred and twenty dollars or so.
Do-hee breezily tapped her card, then picked up the paper bag holding the hoodie Mazia had arrived in.
"Excuse me, why are YOU paying for my clothes?"
"Why not? Can't I buy my employee an outfit?"
Ji-a snatched the receipt out of Do-hee's hand and mouthed the amount to herself.
That sum would more than double as a donation during Do-hee's next broadcast.
But saying so out loud would obviously earn her a knuckle sandwich and a "don't you dare."
So Mazia, now wiser, merely shot a sidelong glance and kept her mouth shut.
Onward to the next clothing store.
This one too was packed with formal-looking wear — and, of course, it was another kids' brand.
Mazia muttered, her face a portrait of protest.
"Kids' clothes really do come in an incredible variety, huh."
"How else are you supposed to satisfy all those parents? Come on, in we go."
"Fair enough. In this age of record-low birth rates, you'd have to sell three outfits per family just to break even."
"Hey, hey. Is there ANY nonsense this kid can't produce?"
But protests aside, from the moment she changed, Mazia drew every eye around her without even trying.
Since it had been Christmas just yesterday, plenty of parents had taken the day off with their children.
Lots of people chattered about Ji-a as they passed by.
And every time, Do-hee got to hear a bonus comment of 'My, what a young mother you are.'
But who cared about being mistaken for a mom right now?
Do-hee was simply overjoyed that she'd found a coordination so flawless it stopped traffic — on this accursed fashion-illiterate walking beside her.
In any case, at the second shop too, Do-hee assembled an outfit for Mazia in no time:
A pleated skirt fanning out in a lovely trapeze, a blouse with just a touch of ornamentation, and a ribbon tie.
A newsboy cap on top would have been the crowning touch—
but within moments Mazia declared it stuffy and yanked it off.
And then she had the nerve to say:
"Isn't this a school uniform?"
"It is not a school uniform."
"Looks exactly like a school uniform to me. If I'm buying this, shouldn't I just wear my regular work clothes?"
Given Mazia's opinion, one might well ask why not just stick with the usual two-piece suit — but the problem is the *imbalance*.
No matter how generously you tried to guess Mazia's age, in her office clothes she looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother's wardrobe.
Her coworkers had long since gotten used to it, but even now, strangers would occasionally ask.
Why is there a kid at the company?
Paradoxically, Mazia dressed up school-uniform-style actually looked like a student.
By dialing her style toward the mid-teens, her estimated age somehow went UP — a genuinely bizarre phenomenon.
In short, Do-hee wanted to convey this exact point, but she lacked the rhetorical firepower to argue Mazia into submission.
So she had no choice but to retreat to the promise she'd extracted from Ji-a the moment they met today.
"You promised you'd wear whatever I coordinated. Remember?"
"Hmph."
Though her half-lidded eyes brimmed with suspicion, Mazia was, in the end, obedient.
So off to the last shop, where today's third coordination was completed.
Casual wear — the style Ji-a held so dear.
Loose pants, a fleece crewneck, a scarf — bought as a set, and shopping was done.
The moment she was back in comfortable clothes (the pants especially), Mazia's mood visibly lifted.
From a certain angle, Cheon Do-hee's shopping strategy had worked like a charm.
"So? Happy with what we bought?"
"If I said no, my skull would get caved in, so I suppose I have no choice."
"You know, anyone listening would think I go around thwacking your head every day. Ninety percent of the time it's because YOU start it…."
"Just kidding. I know you dress well, boss. I trust that you picked well, obviously."
"And that's exactly what earns you—"
"GYAAH. I'm against violence!"
Mazia giggled and fled on her short little legs.
Unlike when she'd been in the skirt, her small stature translated to startling agility.
After a brief game of tag, the two of them plopped down on a bench beside the mall fountain.
No sooner had she sat than Mazia spoke up.
"Since you've done my winter clothes… spring, summer, and fall are on you too."
"…You want free coordination for every season?"
"Not free. It all comes back to you as donations anyway."
"Unbelievable."
Do-hee hid a grin behind her hand.
* * *
The KakaoTalk message from Iona arrived two days later.
December 28th, one day before the year-end party.
Apparently unaware that I'd slept straight through the morning, she'd left a missed call at 10 a.m. and another at noon.
So once I'd finished getting ready for work and slung my bag over my shoulder, I put in my earbuds and called her right away.
VTubers' streaming schedules and sleep schedules are all more or less the same, so 2 p.m. left her plenty of time to be awake.
"Iona, can you hear me?"
Iona sounded like a woman who had died and come back to life.
"…? Why on earth would I?"
This woman looks perfectly composed on the outside, but inside she's a tangled mess of anxiety.
Honestly, I'd had a feeling ever since Wicker Town, back when she refused the server subsidy.
Judging by her pathological obsession with picking sides, I'd guess someone betrayed her in the past.
"I don't block people without explaining why first, so rest easy. I've managed streamers long enough that it's just second nature to me."
"If I banned someone without giving a reason, the CEO's inbox would blow up, the official email would blow up — the works. Though I'll admit, even when I DO give a reason, things still blow up sometimes."
"So what did you want to ask me?"
Iona answered, hesitating.
"I haven't told anyone I'm going. Did word get around?"
Impressive insight.
Then again, that's exactly how she keeps her iron grip on the top spot at Rapits.
"You're quite right — I was invited, and I'm going to do a little networking. That's how I keep promoting the members as hard as I do, after all."
"And where exactly do you expect me to be?"
I tilted my head.
"And how, precisely, do you plan to recognize me?"
What Iona said next made me slap my own forehead before I could stop myself.
Maru and Serena are close, so I suspect the two of them got to chatting and my name came up naturally.
It wasn't that Maru leaked my "red pill" and I was bothered by it — I'm not a VTuber anyway — it's just that the memory of traipsing through nothing but children's clothing stores with my boss a few days ago left me in a mood.
"Wow, so people like ME are just impossible to miss wherever we go," basically.
"Fine. If you spot me on the first try, I'll buy you pizza."
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