Young Nobles Association
“David, is that a magic tower? I didn't see it in the expedition report.”
“From the looks of it, even I would say it resembles one, young master.”
“A butler who can't even properly scout something like this. Aren't you just coasting on the job?”
“Before you say that to me, why don't you ask Father to bump up my salary—it's barely dwarf-sized as it is.”
“Ah, forget it! I'll check it out myself, so follow me. Tell the knights to head to the inn ahead of us.”
The carriage door swung open, and two men stepped out. The one striding ahead was in his early twenties, while the man trailing behind appeared to be in his thirties. Especially the older one's face, shadowed by the deep exhaustion of an overworked salaryman pulling overtime without hazard pay—it screamed “loyal retainer.”
They soon approached the Cash Shop stall, where the dark-circled butler spoke first.
“I'm David, vassal of the Radius Barony. My lord, Yurdell Radius, the second son of the Radius family, grew curious about this building and sent me to inquire.”
His words were polite, but his face radiated pure annoyance.
“An honor to have you. I'm Miner, the continent's one and only plastic surgery specialist and director of the Beauty Tower.”
“Plastic surgery? Specialist? What's that?”
The baron's son asked me in a tone dripping with curiosity.
“It means a doctor specialized in the field of plastic surgery.”
“See? It is a magic tower. It wasn't in the Frederik Dungeon Zone administrative guidebook either. Did it just pop up recently?”
Right off the bat, this stranger with no prior connection was shoving his status down my throat with casual speech. It was absurd, but the effortless banmal from this fresh-faced twenty-something noble felt so par for the course in this world. A stark reminder that class trumped commerce here.
“It's fairly new, yes. But as you mentioned, young master, it's not a magic tower. Just a simple hospital. And I'm no mage.”
“Hmm……”
The noble young master eyed the samples, non-sale display items, and prototypes laid out on the Cash Shop stall with keen interest.
“On the first floor of the Beauty Tower, this Cash Shop sells health-related products.”
“Health? These don't look like they have anything to do with that.”
“Haha, allow me to introduce them one by one. The product you're looking at now is called sunscreen—it prevents skin aging from sun exposure and……”
Every time the noble's gaze shifted, I kept up the explanations. Once I'd finished, he uttered just one sentence.
“From here to here.”
Nobles. Gotta love 'em.
The brat suddenly felt like a generous young man.
“Right away. Cache, package it up, please.”
“Yes, Director!”
From what Cache had told me, the nobility here was divided into duke, marquis, earl, viscount, and baron. Barons were the lowest rung among them.
Not to underestimate a barony, though.
His crisp attire and the plump purse at his side exceeded expectations. And Cache, that girl with a nose for money like a drug-sniffing dog, zeroed right in without missing a beat.
After introducing herself, she launched into explanations of Beauty Tower procedures—specifically ones tailored to hook a baron's son.
“……We also offer simple treatments for pigmentation and freckles. Oh! And something I tried myself with great results is the skin booster—it's a procedure that hydrates and nourishes the skin for that plump, slime-like, dewy glow.”
Cache was a pro. She was pitching full-face pico toning, mochi skin booster triple sets, and more like she'd personally undergone them all.
“Hmm…… Intriguing. Feels nothing like the magic towers I know.”
He nodded along to her enthusiastic pitch, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
Good work, Cache. My turn to close.
“You're still young, young master, but skin care should start early. As a doctor, I'd recommend—”
“Fine, then let's get a haircut today.”
“A haircut would be great…… Pardon?”
“You said you're still open, right? I hope you're decent with scissors.”
“……”
A barber pole. The red, white, and blue stripes flashed in my mind. Old-school barbershops still had them sometimes—blue for veins, red for arteries, white for bandages.
In medieval Europe, when an internist needed to lance pus or draw blood during a procedure, they'd call in a surgeon—or a barber.
Is that how he sees me?
My mind reeled for a second. But I was a doctor with noble ethics dedicated to saving lives. I was about to politely decline while maintaining my dignity when—
“You wouldn't call yourself a doctor if you couldn't even cut hair, right? I hear there are quacks who can't handle basic scissors or scalpel work and just fool people with words. Hope that's not you.”
Scissors and knives as the basics of medicine? Never heard that in pre-med, med school, internship, or residency. But my quick micro-expression scan picked up no denial from David the butler, Cache, or even Walter's face.
Couldn't just refuse outright, then. Time for Plan B.
“Of course we can. Our hospital has a full beauty salon specializing in hair. It's just pricier than other places. That alright with you?”
“Ha, funny talk. Last magic tower charged 2 silver for a noble-exclusive mage to do hair. Creative, stylish ones took 5 silver. What's yours?”
The way his lip curled suggested he thought a newbie hospital like mine couldn't charge more than that.
I could stomach the casual speech and attitude, but not a price battle.
“2 gold. Basic cut starts at 2 gold here.”
“Ha, that's ridiculous. Five times a regular magic tower cut, double a skilled mage? You serious?”
“You're looking at our only doctor right now. Cuts by the Beauty Tower's director and representative come at a premium. Ah, but if you're after cheap, better head elsewhere.”
A polite way of saying I'm not cutting your hair, so beat it.
But unexpectedly, my words ignited the baron's son's competitive fire. His brow twitched—micro-expressions don't lie.
“……Interesting. Very interesting. Let's do the cut, then. Lead the way.”
2 gold for one cut. 200,000 won to trim some hair.
……Last time. First and final.
Since it was my first noble client, I figured I'd hack it quick and wrap up.
“This way. Salon’s on the second floor.”
Inside the Beauty Tower, Yurdell couldn't hide his awe, while his butler David looked too drained to even muster surprise—just perpetual fatigue.
“Have a seat. Any preferred style?”
Once we reached the second-floor total beauty care shop, I draped the cutting cape over Yurdell in the chair and asked.
“Hmph, pricey but zero service spirit. Other magic towers show you photos of various styles first.”
Photos existed here, apparently. Made sense—the slug with the numbered ticket spat out paper from its slime, so why not?
“Beauty Tower's all hype, it seems.”
Oh yeah? This the infamous power trip I'd heard about?
His sneering tone flipped a switch. Time to deliver top-tier service.
“No, we customize every procedure, surgery, and beauty treatment. What style are you after, young master?”
“Hmm…… Something that highlights my valor. Make me stand out among the knights.”
“Got just the thing. Called the 'swagger cut' or 'swagger head'—domineering, full of presence. Famous from the leader of a 25-million-strong eastern micro-nation.”
“Oho…… Swagger head! Perfect for me! Do it—now!”
Buzzing with excitement, the baron's son got the full North Korean supreme leader buzz cut.
Vrrrraaaaaang—!
The familiar hum of the clippers in my hand felt right—like back at the orphanage, trimming heads left and right.
Vrrang— vrrang— vrrrrrang—!
“Hmph, hmm…… Never seen a machine like this, but the noise is—”
“Keep still. Might mess up the lines.”
“Ahem……”
No issues unless he bobbed like a sick chicken. I just didn't want to chat with this rude noble spawn.
Snip-snip— clip— snip-snip—
I buzzed the sides clean in a 3mm two-block, evoking northern leaders. Then, scissors in hand, I swam through his hair like a dolphin in spawning season.
After cutting, shampoo, dry, wax, and styling, it came out exactly as envisioned—thanks to his natural wave.
“Ooh! Th-this is the swagger head! Brilliant…… Never seen style like this……”
In the mirror, a white guy with Kim Jong-un hair grinned in satisfaction.
Yurdell stared blissfully into the glass for a while before snapping his fingers at me. David promptly handed over the cash as I collected my fee—not treatment, beauty fee.
Yurdell stroked his nearly shaved temple and smirked.
“Better skill than expected. I'll swing by after the dungeon run. Tell the Young Nobles Association about you—they'll thank me.”
“……The Young Nobles Association?”
“Union of noble heirs—young masters and ladies. Shortened to YNA. I'm an executive. I'll spread the word about this new Beauty Tower. Keep honing your arts.”
“Th-thank you……”
It was just a trim. No medical tie-in jumped out, and I had zero confidence in prolonging the talk.
And so, Yurdell of the Radius Barony strutted out of the Beauty Tower, swagger head high.
“Director! YNA executive! This is huge!”
As the swagger-headed young master departed and I caught my breath, Cache rushed over, face flushed.
“Noble kids' club—might not be bad.”
“Nooo! YNA's way bigger! Not every noble house qualifies. An executive, not even a member? Insane! Usually takes an earl's heir for that. Massive opportunity!”
Watching my right-hand girl bounce like she'd sniffed pure profit, YNA clearly wasn't ordinary.
Never mistreat a customer—or patient. You never know the butterfly effect.
“Alright. Tomorrow, Cache, you clock in and we'll discuss curating products for YNA members. Good work today, Cache, Walter, Res—all of you.”
* * *
And the next day.
True to executive Yurdell's boast, carriages full of young masters and ladies poured in front of the hospital.
“This the place with the great haircuts?”
“Gonna be a long wait? My hair's a bit damaged.”
“Social season's soon—thin it out on top for me.”
Young masters and ladies swarmed the hospital.
For haircuts.
The Frontier Doctor God