Don't Clap!
Tok-tok-tok—beep—tok-tok-tok—
The laser device in his hand was precisely vaporizing Emily's mole. She's not even flinching anymore.
Today was the 14th of July in the Ailene calendar, a Thursday. It marked Emily's third and final day of laser treatments—and the last day he could use her as a model.
"Huh? It's already over?"
As the laser's hum cut off, Emily looked up with a puzzled expression.
"You can tell just from the sound now. It took about the same time as yesterday and the day before." He removed the frog-eyed protective goggles and applied a DuoDERM patch to the treatment site. "Looks like you've gotten used to the procedure already."
Emily gave a shy smile.
"The first two days, I was honestly a bit nervous. But today? I barely felt a thing. Just got sleepy."
She'd grown comfortable enough with him to start chattering away. Though after three straight days of treatments, she looked a tad fatigued. No wonder she was snoring through the sessions.
He didn't mention it, of course. Protecting a patient's pride was part of a doctor's duty.
"Procedure's done. Ready for the finale?"
"Whew..." Emily let out a soft sigh, tension from her final day as a model evident as she rose. "Okay! Let's go!"
But she bounced back quick, hopping off the treatment bed with a spirited hup!
They rode the elevator down to the first floor, home of the Cash Shop in the Beauty Tower. Through the automatic doors, a bustling crowd pressed against the glass.
"Emily, could you slip out and let Cache know we're ready? I've got some setup to do inside."
"Sure thing! Be right back."
Now on day three, she was a pro. She veiled her face with the cloth he'd handed her and headed out to relay the message.
By the time he'd fired up the beam projector, filling one wall of the cafe space...
"Maaaiineeer~!"
The lobby doors slid open, and a white furball charged at him like a missile. This thing never listens. I said no hugging.
Res flapped her stubby wings, hurtling toward him. He snatched her mid-air by the torso just before impact, minimizing contact, then perched her on his shoulder. He synced his phone with the projector.
"Dragon, tell Cache we're good to go?"
"Yup! On it!"
She flapped off through the doors again.
Moments later...
"I came 'cause you said to, but moles vanishing? Sounds like bullshit."
"Yeah, right? We've been suckered too many times. For real?"
"Last day, huh? Place is packed."
"Whoa? Way more products inside!"
The doors opened, and the waiting crowd poured into the Cash Shop like a flood.
"We're back."
"Big bro!"
"Jeff, Ollie. Good to see you again."
His half-hearted greeting earned scowls from the pair.
"Dude, what's with the vibe? Feels like you wish we hadn't shown."
"Yeah, boss. That 'pain in the ass' face?"
Jeff and Ollie—big lugs, but sharp when it counted. Like now.
"Not annoyed. Just busy. Front row's reserved for you."
"Hahaha! Thanks, bro!"
"Hurry before someone snags it, boss!"
He knew exactly why they kept showing up. But they'd bought him thirty extra years of life, so no kicking them out.
"Director, shall we start?"
Cache sidled up as he sighed at the duo, whispering.
He nodded. She cleared her throat lightly and stepped onto the prepared podium.
"Hello, everyone~! It's finally time to reveal the results of the last mole removal! Bet you're all excited!"
Her smooth, commanding voice seized the packed lobby's attention. Murmurs swelled among the crowd.
Good atmosphere.
"Before we show the final results, a quick intro to our hospital, the Beauty Tower!"
"Hey, miss! Skip it! I heard it yesterday!"
"Yeah! Day before too. Gotta hit the dungeon after!"
Despite the grumbles from repeat customers, Cache's smile never wavered—right on script.
"Thank you all for visiting our Beauty Tower amid your busy schedules. Some of you are first-timers, so bear with us just a sec!"
She beamed her fruity, sweet smile and flowed on seamlessly.
"If you were here for the first reveal, or yesterday, you know the drill. Remember everything—quiz time later with prizes! Now, what procedures and surgeries does the Beauty Tower offer? Let's start simple: InMode to uncover your hidden jawline! First up, Power Contour Toxin!"
The prize news hushed the rowdies; they turned into exam-cramming students, absorbing the rundown on treatments and surgeries.
A few outbursts—"How's that even possible?" "That's nonsense!"—rippled through midway.
"Tch? Who's yelling?"
"Shut it. Tsk."
But Jeff and Ollie twisted around from the front row with friendly glares, and the noise melted away like cotton candy in rain.
"And that's our Beauty Tower intro! Thanks for listening. Remember it all for the quiz prizes coming up!"
Applause and cheers erupted as Cache wrapped her crisp summary.
A few stragglers looked confused, of course.
"...Qu... Quiz? What's that?"
"Duh, old man! She said: she asks, we answer, prizes if right!"
"Heh, answering questions for gifts? Wild."
"Fool me once? I got free lotion and sunscreen yesterday."
Not a bad vibe overall. Three days of these mini-events had bred fans who amped the mood themselves.
In his old world, this would've screamed "patient baiting" violation. But here? No medical laws existed.
Means I can do whatever the hell I want.
As he smirked inwardly, MC Cache kept the energy rolling.
"Ready, everyone? You've waited patiently. Please welcome today's model, Emily! Big applause!"
Thunderous claps and roars. Emily, face veiled, ascended the podium with Cache's help—her third time modeling, but nerves made her tremble ahead of the reveal.
The mood peaked as every eye locked on her. Cache, per his instructions, diaphragmed a deep breath and bellowed:
"Behold! After twenty-five long years—seventy-eight facial moles that scarred her like a curse!"
Emily shuddered under the veil at Cache's hype. But Cache pressed on relentlessly, as scripted. He filmed it all via phone gimbal mirror, for the back-row views.
"Were those 'incurable' moles truly gone? Let's count them together and see Emily's transformed face! Ready? Three—!"
"Twoo—!!"
"Oooone—!!!"
Swish.
Cache lifted the veil from the demure Emily.
"Woooaaah! Impossible!"
"My god!"
Beast-like roars and deafening applause filled the room.
Perfect—so far. But we're not done.
He watched from the back, arms crossed, pleased.
The reveal was the climax. But the next bit? Just as good.
Cache read his mind, segueing smoothly.
"Everyone~! What do you think of Emily's face with its seventy-eight moles? Still there~?"
"Nope! Porcelain smooth!"
"Baby skin, for real!"
Cache flashed a sly grin, pointing at one shouter.
"You said 'porcelain smooth'! First loudest answer—high-end cucumber-scented soap as thanks!"
"Cucumber soap? Unreal! Can't be!"
"Heh, lucky bastard!"
How many med-law violations today? Whatever. He was adapting; no guilt pangs.
Humans adapt.
"Right? Porcelain-smooth, baby-soft, gorgeous! But get this—our star Emily hasn't seen her new face yet!"
"What? For real?"
"Why not?"
Cache turned to Emily with a grin.
"Ready to see your new face, Emily?"
"...Yes."
"How're you feeling?"
"S-so nervous..."
No acting here. For dramatic effect, he'd asked her post-final-treatment: no mirrors till showtime. DuoDERM would've blocked it anyway.
Cache patted the shivering Emily's shoulder like a rain-soaked pup, yanking the cloth from the full-length mirror beside the podium.
Swish—!
The red drape fell. Emily, still shaky, kept her eyes squeezed shut.
"Emily, it's okay. Open your eyes."
Cache's whisper and back-pat coaxed short breaths from her. She peeked.
"This... my face? The moles... gone..."
"It's you, Emily. So no tears—smile."
Hand over mouth, she wept endlessly. Someone started clapping—him—and the crowd joined with cheers and supportive shouts.
Yes! That's the vibe! Emotional hooks linger.
Scripted or not, this TV/internet/phone-less medieval world ate it up. Sure, crystal orbs exist, but no filming there.
Three mouths make a tiger. No YouTube or Netflix? This beat a zoo tiger breakdancing downtown.
As he grinned at the feel-good peak...
"Doctor! Thank you, Dooctor!"
Wait, no! Don't come here!
Far back, distinct outfit or her sharp eyes—he didn't know. But sobbing Emily plowed through the crowd like a lioness, slamming into his chest.
Clap clap clap! Clap clap clap!
Stooop! No clapping!
Unplanned. Tear-streaked Emily buried in his arms, crowd thundering applause around them. Panicking, he shot Cache a desperate save-me glare.
"E-everyone! Quiz time! Ready for prizes?"
"Quiz?"
"The prizes!"
"It's on!"
His right-hand Cache! A bit more grooming, and she'd fill Lee Manager's shoes.
His shirt soaked like a leaky faucet, but he patted Emily's back, stone-faced.
"Emily, happy day today. Smile."
"...Hic! D-Doctor, it's too good... keeps making me cry, sob."
A pain, but time to end it. Wet shirt aside, one-on-one consults—er, "targeted ads"—awaited, showing her face to potentials.
"Yeehaw! Winner! Hahaha, I won!"
"Damn, jealous."
Quiz wrapping; Cache clocked their plight, buying time with the next bit first.
"No prizes? Don't fret~! Focus up! Many came far—thanks to you, special for today only: buy one, get one free!"
Money-rain performance. Her quick pivot kept things smooth.
"But! Only three at a time. Plenty stock—browse slow. Plus freebies for all buyers~!"
Order shuffled, but 1+1 announced, chaos erupted: grabbing samples, non-sells, testers.
Blessedly, as his shirt dampened, Emily's sobs ebbed in his arms.
Cache holds a bit longer, we sail to one-on-ones smooth.
"We got a report. Here to investigate."
That familiar prim tone. There stood Thomas from the Ling Office.