The Day of the Future
Generally speaking, laser hair removal on a man's beard takes about three to four minutes. But in Ravi's case, with his entire body covered in hair, just the face alone required around forty minutes.
"Stella, proceed with the healing magic."
"Got it!"
After the first session ended, he called for Stella, his head nurse, and she cast her healing magic over Ravi's treated areas. In the past, he'd felt a smug satisfaction every time Stella used her magic instead of Res, saving him a single gold coin per cast. But right now, his mind was entirely occupied with Ravi, who hadn't let out so much as a whimper.
"...Ravi, didn't that hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"..."
Precise examination had revealed Ravi's official diagnosis: Ambras Syndrome. Also known as Werewolf Syndrome, it was a rare condition estimated to affect only one in ten billion people—fewer than fifty cases recorded since the medieval era.
'Even with healing magic, the hair grows back. But it's definitely sparser now.'
From the looks of things, he'd have to shave before every session. For permanent hair removal, it would take at least five sessions, up to ten to fifteen in more stubborn cases. For Ravi, it seemed like around twenty would be needed to properly destroy the hair follicles.
'Let's just finish the face today. Without facial hair, people won't give him those nasty looks anymore. And it's autumn now anyway.'
No matter the season, the face was always exposed, so he decided to focus there. Healing magic had brought back some hair, but many follicles—the roots—had died off properly, so it was noticeably thinner than at the start.
Before the second session, they repeated the shave and anesthesia.
"Alright, starting the second treatment."
"Thank you, Director."
"..."
Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep—
Ambras Syndrome was a rare genetic disorder caused by a mutation in the SOX9 gene on chromosome 8, with no known cure. What he was doing wasn't treatment per se; it was permanent hair removal to prevent regrowth. This was his first time performing laser hair removal on an Ambras patient. Hypertrichosis cases, however, were surprisingly common—he'd treated countless patients and performed the procedure innumerable times.
'This is unusual... The face is so sensitive; there's no way it doesn't hurt. But he just keeps saying he's fine.'
What surprised him now was that this mere thirteen-year-old boy didn't flinch, didn't even groan faintly. Kids a few years older than Ravi would scream during facial procedures, or at least get teary-eyed even if they stayed quiet. But Ravi lay there serene, as if he felt nothing at all.
Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep—
"We don't have to finish everything today; we can split it up. If it gets too tough, tell me right away."
"I'm fine. Thank you."
"..."
The boy's demeanor was worlds apart from what he'd expect from kids his age, leaving him unsettled. Of course, his background and upbringing were nothing like the patients Minho had seen before.
"Moving to the third session."
"Starting the fifth treatment."
"Ninth session beginning."
"Seventeenth..."
Despite the grueling repetition, Ravi endured every one without a single grimace.
'Was I worrying too much? Pain tolerance varies by person, after all. It doesn't scale with age.'
Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep— Beep—
By evening, they wrapped up the twentieth and final laser session for the day.
"Stella."
"Phew, this really is the last one, right?"
"Yeah. Just tidy up and head home."
Stella grumbled as she cast the final healing spell, but he was focused solely on Ravi's face. The redness from twenty sessions faded, slowly giving way to smooth recovery.
'Perfect! It works on Ambras too!'
Some studies on past Ambras cases noted that laser treatment struggled with light-colored hair. Fortunately, Ravi's hair—head and body alike—was a deep brown bordering on black, matching his eyes. No issues with the laser, and the results exceeded expectations.
As he smiled proudly at the beautiful outcome, Ravi—who had lain still like a wooden doll—parted his lips hesitantly.
"Um... is it... over now?"
"You did great. Let's check it yourself."
"Yes."
That single short sentence brimmed with emotion. Leaving Stella to clean up, he led Ravi to the full-length mirror in the waiting room.
"Ah... ahh..."
Ravi let out a soft gasp, stroking his face over and over.
"I can't believe it, Director. Is this... really... really my face...?"
Tears streamed down, soaking his cheeks, but Ravi kept caressing his skin. He tugged at it lightly, ran fingertips and nails gently across the surface to confirm no stubble remained.
"I can't believe it, Director... Even the short, dense fuzz that covered my face before—it's all gone now. How can I ever repay this kindness..."
Like a prince awakened from a curse, Ravi finally sobbed like the child he was. Minho approached and placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.
"No need for tears. This is your face from now on—the one you see in the mirror. But Ravi, the treatment really didn't hurt at all?"
"Ah, well..."
"I've done laser hair removal more times than I can count, and I've never seen anyone endure it like you."
"Truth is... it hurt a lot."
The unexpected answer caught him off guard.
"What? But you said you were fine!"
"I-I'm sorry..."
"No, it's not about apologizing. Sigh... During treatment, you have to report your condition accurately. If you say you're fine, I assume you really are."
Seeing Ravi bow his head like a criminal again filled him with frustration.
"I... I didn't lie. It hurt a ton, but I really was fine."
"What do you mean? It hurt, but you were fine?"
Ravi fidgeted, pressing his fingers together as hair began to sprout faintly again.
"My former master... no, the slave trader... beat me so much."
"..."
"If I said it hurt, more beatings. If I showed pain, more beatings... If anyone knew I was hurting, it hurt even worse... So enduring it was better. It really was okay, Director."
"..."
The boy's brief words painted a vivid picture of the hellish life he'd endured.
"...That won't happen here. So from now on—not just for hair removal, but anytime something's tough or unbearable—tell me. You're not a slave anymore; you're still a kid. Kids make mistakes, learn from them, and grow. No one in the Beauty Tower will hurt you. Got it?"
"Yes, I won't forget, Director."
The frustrating little guy had drawn out more words than usual.
"Then let's just take some photos, and we'll continue the rest tomorrow."
"Yes, Director!"
Humanity's first clothing: hair. Some suffer without it; others find it an unbearable burden. For them, the luxury isn't looking more handsome or beautiful than average—it's simply blending in. He hoped Ravi could live an ordinary life like everyone else. One where he could step outside without shrinking from stares, meet eyes boldly, and smile through a normal day.
'Time to start with the flyers?'
It had nothing to do with the 300 gold being a waste. It was just about helping the boy find normalcy—and fostering his social skills to integrate into society.
* * *
Ailene Calendar
September 26 — Monday
It had been just under two weeks since Ravi's first treatment. In that short—or long—time, he'd changed a lot. Not just the hair covering his body gone, but he stuttered less in conversations, held eye contact, and had learned to smile brightly.
"Elasticity bursting from deep within your skin! Shrink, Eye Shrink, V-Shrink—special five-minute sale! Magical effects overflowing with bouncy firmness! Erase ten years from your face right now!"
Recalling Ravi's bold, booming voice as he shouted, the social adaptation training he'd prepared was clearly working. Having the growth-spurt kid run around handing out flyers all day boosted his stamina and socialization—perfect therapy.
'Definitely not because I'm stingy about staff registration fees, territory resident fees, resident taxes, or anything!'
As September drew to a close, much had changed. Yet some things remained evergreen as a pine through all seasons.
"No! If the deadline falls on a weekend, of course you pay after the weekend! Demanding it before? Without any notice?"
"I understand you've been in the West Continent just over two months, Minor Gold. But your sense of 'common knowledge' hasn't budged an inch. I don't know about the East Continent, but here in the West, if a deadline hits a holiday, payment is due the day before—no exceptions. We've agreed to call that 'common sense' in our territory office."
Evergreen and upright as a pine, the territory office's bitchiness persisted from summer into autumn without a hint of wilt. Per Articles 30 and 31 of the Dungeon Zone Special Tax Collection Law, he'd been fleeced under the guise of "late fees" and trudged back to the Beauty Tower.
'What's today? Why so many knights?'
Unlike adventurers geared for dungeon delving, these knights wore gleaming silver armor emblazoned with noble crests. Merchants bustled like they were prepping for a festival.
"...Huh? Why are you setting up a stall again?"
"Ah! Director!"
As he approached the hospital, he spotted Cache setting up a street stand at the front gate.
"We agreed no more stall sales—only inside the Beauty Tower."
"Ahh~ This week's Future's Day event, you see."
"Future's Day?"