Filling Beauty
“Ma’am, treating marionette lines doesn’t require amputation surgery. So there’s no need to worry.”
“Th-that’s a relief. Just in case... Yes, truly a relief.”
“......”
Marionette lines on the face, and amputation? Wouldn’t cutting off the face just kill you? It was a question that flew in the face of all common sense to me, but this was a world starkly different from the one I knew. Swallowing my rising irritation, I patiently continued the explanation.
“There are various procedures to eliminate marionette lines. Broadly speaking, they include lifting, autologous fat grafting, Sculptra, fillers, and more.”
“Hmm... More options than I expected? These are all unfamiliar terms I’ve never heard before, so I don’t know which one to choose...”
It made sense that everything sounded foreign to Marlene. But no worries—I’ll restore that floral beauty of your youth myself.
“To put it simply, lifting induces collagen production in the subcutaneous layer to contract the skin. In other words, it’s a procedure that tightens up the folded skin we call wrinkles.”
“I don’t quite follow, but hohoho, that’s amusing. Tightening skin like a skirt hem.”
Was there something funny in my explanation? Marlene knew nothing about skin treatments, though. Ignoring the queen bee’s laughter, I pressed on doggedly.
“Autologous fat grafting, on the other hand, involves harvesting fat from areas of your body where it’s abundant and transplanting it.”
“W-wait a minute. You’re saying... transplanting my fat?”
Unlike her reaction to the lifting explanation, Marlene’s eyes widened in surprise as she instinctively covered her lower belly at the mention of fat grafting. A woman’s intuition? I hadn’t even gone into details yet, but her instincts were sharp.
Unlike Marlene’s anxious gesture over her belly ham, fat grafting wasn’t that complicated. Fat is extracted from areas like the lower abdomen, waist, or thighs, spun in a centrifuge to remove impurities like local anesthetics, serum, and red blood cells, then secondarily concentrated to eliminate water and oil. The purified fat is loaded into a fine syringe and injected into the desired area—a simple procedure. But explaining it all would just confuse her.
“Simply put, we extract your fat with a thin needle and inject it into areas needing elasticity. It’s done under local anesthesia—just numbing the treatment site—so it won’t hurt much.”
“Hmm... I see.”
Her face showed she understood nothing. But it didn’t matter. Today’s procedure wasn’t that anyway.
“Finally, both Sculptra and fillers are procedures that fill in sunken, wrinkled areas.”
There were others, like custom implants inserted through incisions inside the mouth—a noble surgery—but I skipped those. Telling a middle-aged woman with a natural face who’d never had Botox about mouth incisions would be as shocking as the bone pillar I’d moved to the staff lounge.
She might freak out and start ranting about amputations if I mention it.
“So, I just need one of those—Sculptra or filler?”
“Exactly. And today, we’ll do filler.”
I’d phrased it similarly, but Sculptra and fillers differed fundamentally in composition. Unlike gel-form fillers, Sculptra is a powder. Diluted with water and anesthetic before injection, it stimulates collagen production to fill wrinkles and boost volume, lasting longer than fillers.
But fillers allow for more precise work. The results are consistent too.
In other words, Sculptra seeps into the skin over a month or several, naturally generating collagen. Many say it’s more natural than fillers, but it’s hard to predict exact outcomes.
There’s a rough estimate, but no need to risk it on the first try.
Fillers last about a year; Sculptra around two. Longer-lasting, sure. But without ripping through space-time to check the future, you can’t know if collagen will overfill or underfill per patient.
Fillers get flak for looking artificial, like obvious work.
Not for me, of course. I was called the god of fillers for creating Sculptra-like naturalness with them. Plus, Sculptra requires three sessions a month apart, followed by five five-minute massages daily for five days. Even if we’d be together going forward, if Marlene turned out lazy, I’d just catch needless flak. No point risking it.
“There are various types of fillers, but I’ll explain on the way to the procedure room.”
As we moved to the procedure room, I detailed the filler type, rough process, and precautions.
“Alright, let’s begin the procedure.”
“Doctor... Please take good care of me...”
“No need to be scared, ma’am. Needles look intimidating, but they don’t hurt much. Feels like self-praise, but back home, they called me Doctor Filler—or even Filler God.”
“Filler... God? What does that mean?”
“It means the best. Let’s proceed.”
She’d been fine during the explanation en route, but once seated on the procedure bed, Marlene clamped her eyes shut at the sight of the needle.
Shouldn’t have shown it to her?
She hadn’t known what a syringe or needle was moments ago. Curious about the tools, she’d asked to see—and that backfired. Under local anesthesia, pain thresholds vary, so I couldn’t predict her reaction. I just worked fast and precise as always.
Prick— poke— jab—
I mercilessly plunged the sharp, fine needle into her skin surface. But contrary to my worries, Marlene showed no pain—her face serene as a calm lake.
As expected... My skills haven’t rusted.
I’d done dozens daily, hundreds on slow days, but hadn’t since isekai. Worried my hands might stiffen, but needless concern. My hands were the hands of god.
Jab— prick— poke-poke-jab—
Carefully yet relentlessly, the needle in my hand targeted Marlene’s wrinkles.
And moments later.
“There, all done.”
“Already? It feels like we just started.”
“Going slow doesn’t guarantee better results. It’s the doctor’s skill that matters. Didn’t hurt, did it?”
“A slight stinging, but no real pain.”
“Then let’s check the results. Slowly stand and come over here.”
I guided Marlene down from the bed to the full-length mirror with ornate molding.
Ah... This mirror was an Insta hotspot too.
It stung that it was now just pretty decor.
Stagger—
Marlene halted abruptly before the mirror, swaying as if frozen stiff. Startled it might be a side effect, I whipped my head toward her.
“Ma’am, are you oka—?”
“My... goodness... How...”
Filler—literally “filling.” In clinics, it means hyaluronic acid fillers mostly. But to me, true filler meant filling with beauty.
“What do you think? Satisfied?”
“......”
Beauty filled, Marlene answered with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her genuine response swelled my chest with pride. Nothing beats a patient’s satisfied tears post-procedure.
Of course, gifts and procedure fees separate.
And I’d collect her labor in lieu of fees.
“Come this way, ma’am. Now for the precautions.”
Filler fills beauty.
And fills my pockets.
Inside the Potion Co-op Chairman’s shop, a thunderous roar echoed.
“What the hell is going on! Why! Why won’t that damned magic tower disappear!”
“It’s not a magic tower—it’s a hospital, sir.”
Bam!
“Magic tower or hospital! That’s not the point right now!”
“S-sorry, Chairman.”
The co-op members gathered in his shop bowed their heads, eyeing him warily as he slammed the table.
“Some barbarian shows up out of nowhere... And now we’re the only ones suffering from the magic towers’ feud!”
They all sighed faintly. The chairman wasn’t wrong.
Mages were quirky, sure, but a mystery tower sprouting overnight at the dungeon zone entrance? The Beauty Tower hospital used bizarre medicine and sold unpurchasable goods, they said.
Up to there, the co-op wouldn’t have cared. No product outsold potions in the dungeon zone, no matter how unique.
But the Beauty Tower didn’t stop there.
“We boycotted under the tower lord’s pressure, and now we’re the ones screwed in the middle!”
“Chairman, we need countermeasures. They’re even selling potions now.”
“Yes! My shop’s close to the Beauty Tower—sales halved!”
“Not just that! The tower lord hiked supply prices citing material shortages and cut shipments! If we sit idle, we’ll starve sucking our thumbs!”
“Haa... What to do.”
The chairman’s head throbbed at the members’ tirades. But as leader, fixing this disaster was his job.
“One thing’s clear: the Beauty Tower must vanish for us all to survive.”
“Agreed. But no way to make it happen?”
“They claim to cure even ‘incurables’—removing moles, regrowing hair, eyebrows. Never heard of such magic!”
As heads ached, a sly smile crept across the chairman’s lips.
“I have an idea.”
“Oh! As expected, Chairman! You’ve got a plan!”
“Tell us quick!”
“The Beauty Tower claims to cure incurables? Then let’s help them.”
The members’ eyes bulged at the unexpected words, heads nodding vigorously.
“Help how...? Send patients?”
“What do you mean, Chairman?”
“Why’d the Beauty Tower get famous? Curing ‘incurables’ with zero deaths.”
Their faces lit up at his sinister words.
“Ah! Send them truly untreatable patients! Let ‘em drop dead there! Uhahaha!”
“Exactly. How’d we miss this simple idea?”
The chairman stroked his bushy beard over thick jowls.
“Conveniently, I’ve got noble kin.”
“Kin...? Ah, him!”
“Yeah, a real pain-in-the-ass brother, and his kid’s just as bitchy.”
Frowning at memories of his brother and nephew, the chairman clicked his tongue.
“I’ll send word to brother. Kehhehe, a hospital’s not real till it has a malpractice scandal, right?”
“Uhaha! Spot on!”
“Brilliant! Genius, Chairman!”
And for a while, they groomed each other with praise.