Wolf Boy
Having left the wolf boy Ravi in Res's care alone made me uneasy, so my hands moved faster than ever.
Pew! Pew pew!
"Aaaah! It huuurts!"
"It'll be over soon. Just hang in there a bit longer."
Snip— snip— snip snip snip—
"Director, doesn't it feel a bit more intense today?"
"Just your imagination."
Ziiing— zing—
"Gyaargh!"
"Don't move, or it'll scar."
Even though there was only one patient, with Stella assisting me as a nurse, every procedure went at least twice as fast as when I worked alone. Before I knew it, closing time had arrived after nonstop searing, slicing, poking, pulling, and stitching.
"Phew... Hazel, no more patients today, right?"
"Yep! That's it for today."
"Good work, everyone. I'm heading out first."
"Good night, Director!"
"Get some rest!"
I left Hazel and Stella's farewells behind and headed straight to the B1 lounge. Assuming they'd be having dinner or snacks together by now, I opened the door.
Tick tick tick tick tick.
Beep boop~
"Res, I'm back. What are you...?"
"Welcome back, Director."
"Maaainer! Look at Ravi! Quick!"
I froze.
'George and Jonathan... they're more capable than I thought.'
With skills like this, maybe I should expand into a waxing salon instead of just haircuts. I already have plenty of treatment beds.
'Gotta add a summer hair removal package before next year. But... he's East Asian?'
At lunch when I first saw him, his face, body, and even the backs of his hands had been covered in fur, so I couldn't make out his features. But now, with his copper-brown eyes and light tan skin, he had the vibe of Aladdin from the movies—a boy straight out of a tale.
"Ravi, you seem to be from somewhere else?"
The boy nodded at my question.
"...Yes. I'm from the East Continent. My parents passed away early, and I lived with my uncle, but he..."
His trailing off told me everything. That bastard uncle must have sold the poor kid for a handful of coins.
"Just curious. As you can see, I'm from the East Continent too."
"...Aren't you, Director, from the Far East region? I heard people like you live there... S-sorry! That was rude of me to ask! S-sorry!"
"...?"
I do hate being questioned, but seeing him grovel like that reminded me of the orphanage days, where the weak were forced to bow. I didn't want to see that.
"Ravi, you don't need to apologize after every sentence. If you actually mess up, I'll tell you."
"Y-yes. S-sor— Sorry... A-ah..."
Watching this thirteen-year-old kid spit out "sorry" like a reflex made my chest tighten. Well, it'd sort itself out eventually. Res had hatched from an egg without any manners too.
"Don't just stand there—sit down and talk."
"Yes, Director."
Ravi sat gingerly where I gestured, every movement watchful, eyes never quite meeting mine. But I'm no child psychologist.
"Ravi, do you remember when the hair started growing?"
"Uh, well... They say I was born with it. As far back as I can remember, my body was covered."
Congenital was a relief. Acquired hypertrichosis could be tied to meds or cancer sometimes.
'Though congenital isn't exactly a blessing...'
According to the ASPRS—the American Society of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgeons—cosmetic and dermatological treatments only gained positive views toward the late 20th century. In Korea, negativity started fading into the 21st. Ironically, while pursuing perfect looks as self-improvement grew trendy—and acceptance of cosmetic patients rose—stigma against reconstructive cases for trauma or birth defects stayed the same.
These days in Korea, you see cosmetic work everywhere: the girl next to you in class, Kim from the next team at work, your academy teacher. Double-eyelid surgery or a nose job barely raises eyebrows anymore, unlike ten or twenty years ago.
'But the gaze on those with congenital flaws hasn't changed.'
Walter, called grape-clusterman or devil for his neurofibromatosis. Melanie, the Windsor lady who had to hide her brows with bangs due to missing eyebrows. And slaves branded werewolf or monster.
That hatred hasn't budged here in this isekai world either—or in Korea.
'Actually, with unauthorized photos going viral online, it might be worse now. I spent 300 gold on him, but that was just annoyance. Chasing perfection is one thing—craving just normalcy, while everyone else has it and you don't? That's real agony.'
Childhood memories bubbled up, fueling my irritation.
"Congenital... Got it. Here's why I'm asking: I shelled out 300 gold for you, Ravi. That makes me your owner."
"..."
"As your owner, I have a duty to guide you responsibly. That's why I'm asking if you want the hair gone like this."
"I-I..."
As Ravi started to speak, I raised a hand to stop him.
"By the way, I hate liars. And I have this Far East mystic trick to spot lies."
Microexpressions are trainable by anyone, but his eyes sparkled with fear—he bought it. Especially in a world with magic.
"One lie detected, and you'll get punishment harsh enough to make slavery seem mild. The kind where you'd rather die."
A phone-vibration buzz came from Ravi's body. That should do it.
"So tell me straight: Do you want the body hair gone, or are you fine like this?"
Ravi kept his head down, silence stretching briefly before his lips parted cautiously.
"My... my hair grows back super fast. It's not like I haven't tried cutting it. I'm grateful George and Jonathan shaved me today, but if they keep doing it, they'll wear themselves out—"
"Stop, stop."
My head shook on autopilot. It felt like an invisible hand had jammed a sweet potato down my throat in a blink.
"One more thing as your owner: From now on, answer yes or no, short and sweet. No rambling."
"B-but..."
'Please, just spit it out! Don't make me more frustrated!'
"If I could, I'd want it shaved—"
"Okay, you want it gone. Heard you loud and clear. Now pick one: daily shaves by the Jo boys—George and Jonathan—or permanent removal. Your choice?"
"Pardon? You can... remove my hair forever?"
A faint tremor laced Ravi's echo.
"Yep. It's a treatment with a medical tool called a laser. It'll sting like a nail pinch. Not deadly pain. Needs multiple sessions, but it'll wipe every hair except your head."
Another brief silence, then Ravi's lips moved again.
"But I don't have any money..."
"Argh, kids these days! I'm the doctor—I'll do it myself, so no charge!"
"B-but still, you'll have to work hard..."
"No! Do you want it or not?"
"Y-yes! If I can, I'll take it no matter how much it hurts!"
Tears welled between his squinted eyes as the kid blurted his truth. That was enough.
"Too late today—rest up. We'll start tomorrow."
"..."
Why no reply? Scared?
"What? Changed your mind? Speak up. I don't force it on anyone who says no."
"N-no, it's not that..."
Another sweet potato lump rose in my throat.
"You haven't told me my jobs yet... Should I start with cleaning? Or laundry? I'm really good at—"
"Res, take him to bed and share snacks."
"Yaaay! Awesome!"
A slave kid trying unsolicited work? Slaves do only what the master orders. And I'm the master.
* * *
The next afternoon. Morning clinic done, time for Ravi's hair removal.
"Nervous?"
"N-no. Well, yes..."
Today's target: the face, most urgent. Even as I shaved the lines and applied numbing cream, Ravi trembled like a leaf.
"Ravi, any questions before we start?"
I asked to calm him down. He stammered back.
"We shaved yesterday too... why again today?"
Good—talking eased his shakes.
"Long hair risks burns from the laser. Shave first, then treat."
"I-I see."
"Numb now. Let's go. It'll sting a little."
"Yes, Director."
Beep— beep— beep— beep— beep—
The real laser hair removal began.
'What... is this?'
And as the treatment progressed, I realized it.
Ravi was weird.