Muse
A modeling gig?
There wasn't a single properly written detail on it, but something like that hardly mattered. Because the name written there — that was the important part.
"Found you…."
I didn't need to see her to know. This was someone with more than enough Artistry to pull off a B-rank, because that was simply who Dokgo Min was.
My heart pounded at the sight of that name.
With Dokgo Min, I can clear the second mission on the spot.
I called the number on the poster without a moment's hesitation.
Dokgo Min. In South Korea, hers was the first name that came to mind when anyone said the word photographer. The moment she pressed the shutter, it didn't matter whether the subject was an actor, an idol, or a model — that shot became their signature photo.
Chief among her legendary works was the hanbok photoshoot of Do Gyeo-ul — one of the three great actresses of South Korea. Back then, Dokgo Min was still a university intern, but that single hanbok shoot rocketed her straight to the top of the industry.
Because it hung in New York's Times Square, that photo.
The tourism board had thrown itself wholeheartedly behind the campaign, and that same year, Do Gyeo-ul's drama recorded a megahit.
The news plastered Dokgo Min's photos everywhere, over and over.
Thanks to Do Gyeo-ul's advance into Cannes, Dokgo Min went on to work with Hollywood actors, and back home the offers poured in so relentlessly that she stopped shooting anyone who wasn't a celebrity of her own choosing.
Do you have any idea what a Dokgo Min session costs? And I'm meeting her right now, this is seriously…!
Just as I was telling myself what a stroke of luck this was —
the door burst open right in front of my nose, and a shrill voice exploded through the hallway.
"Not shooting! Get lost! One click of my shutter costs more than your sorry life! Out, now!"
A man who hadn't even managed to put his shoes on properly staggered out the door. Whether she simply hadn't seen me or didn't care, Dokgo Min spat out a string of filthy curses and slammed the door behind him.
BANG—!!!
In that split-second flash, bright red letters blazed above Dokgo Min's head as she swept past.
Due to [Slump], the user's skill The Moment's Click is currently LOCKED.
I froze on the spot.
"Lucky…."
…Maybe not so much, actually.
She was debuffed to boot, and apparently as a university student her temper was a whole lot filthier, too.
If I walk in right now, I don't think I'd get out in one piece.
Great. What was I supposed to do about this?
While I stood there deliberating, the System popped up another window, as if to encourage me.
A reward will be granted if you lift the Debuff.
Oh, a reward? Well, if there's a reward, then obviously I'll do it.
It wasn't as if finding a photographer of Dokgo Min's caliber would be easy under current circumstances, anyway.
"Playing the long game, she's exactly the kind of connection worth cultivating."
You could drag in a hundred useless seniors to sacrifice as extras and they still wouldn't be worth one Dokgo Min.
This time, I can't afford to get shoved aside by Do Gyeo-ul's connections.
Before my debut, I needed to put at least one more person in this industry on my side — so that Do Gyeo-ul couldn't get in my way.
"All right. Bribe strategy, it is."
Luckily, I'd combed through every single one of Dokgo Min's interviews in my past life, so this wouldn't be hard. The corners of my mouth curled up in a grin.
A muse. I need a muse.
The moment she'd entered her second year of university, Dokgo Min had found herself in the grip of a slump, and that was all she could think. She desperately needed something — anything — to spark inspiration.
"Every~ single one of them below expectations. No, below average…."
Dokgo Min dragged her red pen down the list of people who'd contacted her, line after line.
"If the face is decent, the posing's stiff. If the posing's decent, there's no charm! It's always one or the other—!"
Not one of them, through the viewfinder, made her feel that itch — the hunger to step inside the frame.
"So~ an~noy~ing."
And the aspiring model who'd just left, in particular, had been the absolute worst.
"Not only did he reek of cigarettes, he had the nerve to say—!"
When she'd refused to shoot him, he'd actually spat back some arrogant nonsense about how much a lousy photo could possibly cost.
She was attacking the room spray with renewed violence when the bell to Dokgo Min's studio rang.
"Hello! I'm Han Yeo-reum, here for the model interview today."
Dokgo Min flung the door wide open in one motion, circled Yeo-reum like a cat sizing up prey, and rattled off her verdict on pure reflex — an ingrained habit at this point.
"Cute. Good skin. Especially the nose tip and lips — all smooth and round, very likable. Mm-hm. And the double-eyelid line that only shows at the outer edge when you look straight on? That works too."
And above all — she smelled wonderful.
As Dokgo Min sniffed the air, Yeo-reum smiled and pulled something from the shopping bag in her hand.
"The person who just left smelled like cigarettes, so I thought…."
It was lilies — Dokgo Min's favorite flower in the world.
Dokgo Min felt the cigarette stench clinging to the tip of her nose dissolve into fragrance. The concentration she'd lost came rushing back in an instant.
"Mm~mm."
Slow, like pressing a camera shutter — Dokgo Min's eyes blinked once, languidly.
Her pupils, holding Yeo-reum inside them, gleamed sharp.
Flash!
A Second Glance (C)
Online or offline, what a star needs is the public's gaze! Not only in person — your photos, your videos, even the mere sound of your voice will make people stop dead and pay attention, one more time.
It was the moment Yeo-reum's skill landed on Dokgo Min, hook, line, and sinker.
Wind-tousled hair, a pure white T-shirt, a large and elegant lily clutched in one small hand — and the sunlight, as if on cue, streaming in from behind her.
Dokgo Min wanted to capture this exact frame.
"You."
That was how Dokgo Min summed up Han Yeo-reum in a single word.
"I like you."
Thank you, Cigarette Guy.
Thanks to your sacrifice, I'm standing in front of Dokgo Min right now.
Though I do wish you'd quit the pre-meeting smoke. That's just foul manners.
By now I'd been standing there for the better part of half an hour while Dokgo Min circled around me, round and round.
"But what do I do? I want to shoot you. I like you. But it doesn't quite — click, mm~mm. Like, you know~? Take what I usually do, twist it a little, develop it, push it somewhere better, make it really land in the eye—"
Dokgo Min was dumping every word in her head straight out of her mouth, unfiltered.
I kept quiet, giving her room to think in peace.
Status window.
And I double-checked Dokgo Min's status.
Her Artistry was more than high enough to clear the mission.
The problem is that debuff sitting underneath all that Artistry.
Even if she shot me now, there was no way to satisfy what the status window demanded.
Time to start moving, I think.
I remembered every photoshoot Dokgo Min had ever published.
Her tastes, her preferred angles, the portfolio piece she'd been proudest of — all of it lived in my head.
That's exactly why I brought the lilies, too.
"How did you end up collaborating with Do Gyeo-ul? Mm~mm, well… I think the shot of a lifetime came out because I like her that much. For our first meeting, I brought her lilies. Lilies are my favorite flower of all — I run straight to the flower shop whenever I'm stressed."
Pre-regression, Dokgo Min's style was unmistakable and utterly her own.
Even buried in an ocean of thousands of photos, you could pick out Dokgo Min's color at a glance.
And above all, she wielded natural light with a skill that bordered on the uncanny. She'd blend it with artificial lighting to forge color palettes no one else could touch.
Now, where was it….
Among the rows of standing lights, I went hunting for Dokgo Min's identity.
There it is.
I walked a couple of steps forward and laid a hand on one of the lights.
"What if we used this one?"
It was a blue light.
A cool, crisp, refreshing color like this wasn't something you'd normally use for a profile shoot.
It suits concept photography far better.
These days, actor and model profile shots followed a largely rigid formula. Serious, natural. A black turtleneck against moody black-and-white lighting, or a white shirt caught between the deep shadows of tungsten glow — that was most of what you saw.
But Dokgo Min was different.
It was Dokgo Min who had invented a whole new style of profile photo. Slightly damp hair, bathed in blue light, making the subject look like they'd just surfaced from underwater.
Like something from the very dawn of creation. Clear, and translucent.
"Blue light, huh… mm~mm."
Above the murmuring Dokgo Min's head, the red debuff text blurred — then sharpened again.
Doesn't quite click for her yet, apparently.
Click.
The moment the blue light came on, her face brightened at once. Cool light washed over the white T-shirt.
I held the example out to Dokgo Min, wordless.
React, Dokgo Min. Come on.