The Twelve-Hour Handsome
As I stepped into the shop, Shin Iseol, who had already clocked in, shot up from behind the counter.
"Ah, good morning?"
Her eyes were wide as saucers, her face blank with the look of someone who'd just seen something impossible. Since that wasn't Shin Iseol's usual demeanor, the surprise hit even harder.
"...Why so shocked?"
I asked as if I had no idea, though of course I knew exactly why.
Last night, while working my fingertips around my face the way I would during a massage, I'd discovered purple spots. The ones that marked complexes had sprouted thick and bumpy the moment I massaged my scalp. Spots on the body I could shrug off, but on the face they looked downright grotesque.
So I massaged them away again, as if scraping off something ugly—and to my surprise, the contours of my face began to shift, little by little.
My skin had brightened, of course, and that vaguely undefined jawline had slimmed just enough to look like it had been lightly retouched. My sparse, sparse eyebrows somehow seemed denser, and the blunt, low bridge of my nose had settled into a cleaner, more pleasing line.
It wasn't as if my face had been surgically overhauled overnight. Aside from the dewy, luminous skin, the changes were tiny. But those tiny changes stacked up, feeding off one another until they produced a real synergy.
For a brief moment, my face had become something that was, by my own standards, actually decent to look at.
This is good enough that I won't have to feel inferior wherever I go, I thought, throwing a few shadowboxing jabs at my reflection in the mirror.
"Uh... Junhyun, did you get makeup done?"
"Makeup? Why would I get makeup? I'm not some celebrity."
"Right? But something's really different... what is it?"
She knew full well that if I'd had plastic surgery, I couldn't possibly look this normal the very next morning. Skin care was the same story. If simply getting treatments made everyone pretty, who would ever get called ugly? But once you've felt my hands... you get prettier, you get handsomer... I'd become someone who could make the impossible possible.
Miracle Hand.
All that was left was to live up to the title.
When I walked into the break room, every masseuse who saw me first wore the same dazed expression before finally dipping their heads in greeting.
"Good morning, Junhyun."
"You look really bright today."
"Your skin's glowing—did you put on makeup? And it looks like you lost a little weight too."
And so on.
For someone who had never once in his life received a single compliment on his looks, this was a major event. I was so happy my whole body trembled. It was the kind of pleasant shiver you get when you open a window on a freezing day and let the cold air rush over your spine.
This morning when I checked, my dick was still the same length. Then around lunchtime I checked again and it had gone back to normal. Which means the effects you get from clearing purple spots last about twelve hours. If I give myself a full massage before work, I can keep this look until I clock out.
My knowledge of purple spots had grown. And I'd also learned that this kind of visual landed surprisingly well with women. Maybe they were only paying attention because the change had been so sudden—but so what? Either way, women who normally wouldn't give me a second glance had started noticing me.
At this rate, couldn't I really sleep with every woman in the world?
I'd been taught that the greener the greed, the better. One of my favorite writers once put it this way: Maximum Intercourse for the Maximum Number of People. At this rate, wasn't that actually possible?
Then came the line that floated back from behind me.
"If he were just a little taller, he'd be my total ideal type."
...I don't even want to be your ideal type, okay? I clenched my teeth inside, but in the end, getting angry would only mean I'd lost.
Height... was that it? Even I couldn't stretch a short frame. Fuck. When a long-legged woman like Lee Yeondo stood next to me, our eye levels were almost the same, and the inferiority complex hit hard enough without help. I'd been swimming in greedy fantasies and then gotten hit with a cold dose of reality without even noticing.
But did I really have a reason to feel defeated?
The moment I decided height was impossible felt uncannily similar to the moment I'd once asked myself whether my dick could actually get longer.
Things I'd thought were impossible were becoming reality for me. So was there any need to declare something impossible and then sink into despair? There had to be a way.
And one more thing. Even if I couldn't grow taller, so what? I was the Miracle Hand. They say a man is his ability. Height and face matter, sure, but more important than either are wealth and fame. And of those two, wealth is king.
Strictly speaking, the ranking goes (wealth > dick > face > height). Case by case, sure, but generally speaking, right?
I'd rather be hung like a horse with an Ok Dong-ja face than be Jung Woo-sung with a micro-dick. Or maybe not. Balance games are always hard.
I changed clothes and walked straight to the counter, firing a question at Shin Iseol without preamble.
"Manager Iseol."
"Yes?"
"Say you have to pick one boyfriend. A guy with Jung Woo-sung's face who's completely impotent, or a guy with Ok Dong-ja's face who has incredible sexual chemistry with you. If you can only choose one, who do you pick?"
It was a sensitive question, yet Shin Iseol answered more calmly than I expected.
"A boyfriend?"
"Yeah."
"Jung Woo-sung."
"...Why?"
"If it were a husband, Ok Dong-ja."
"Ah... is that so?"
She was Solomon. I kept marveling, and Shin Iseol broke into a wide smile.
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason... I just suddenly wondered."
It would have been perfect if she'd stopped at verse one. Instead Shin Iseol went straight into verse two and then freestyled.
"Just because you got a little face card today doesn't mean you're trying to encroach on Jung Woo-sung's territory, right?"
"Come on, of course not. I was just giving an extreme example."
"Don't touch Jung Woo-sung. Pick a lower-tier celebrity."
"Hmm... So Ji-sub?"
"...Are you insane? Take that back right now."
"Ha, then the balance is off. The balance."
"If you want the balance right, it has to go something like this... Jung Woo-sung's face, but he beats me up. He beats me every single day! At that point I might actually start thinking about it."
What complete nonsense! I almost got genuinely angry. How could she say something so shamelessly fucked up with a straight face?
"Isn't that a bit of a leap?"
"This is the real conclusion women reach. Because it's Jung Woo-sung, and no one else."
Hearing it put that way, though, I suddenly thought it might not be so far-fetched.
There was a time when I myself would have said that if some absolute goddess of beauty wanted to beat me and lock me up, I'd still be happy just to meet her once. Was I the only one?
Come to think of it, Shin Iseol was a pretty realistic woman.
"I get what you mean."
I nodded in acceptance, and Shin Iseol grinned again.
"Junhyun."
"Yes?"
"You've got someone you're flirting with these days, don't you?"
"Huh? Ah, no... no I don't?"
"What do you mean no? If it's not flirting, then at least someone you like. I knew the second you asked that ridiculous question out of nowhere."
Ha. Why did I even ask that? Looking back, it was a completely absurd question. Oh my god, my brain. My head was so full of dick-water it couldn't even turn properly anymore.
"You don't have to worry that much."
"Sorry? About what?"
Shin Iseol was smiling that sly little smile of someone whose thoughts I couldn't begin to guess.
"You're worried, right? That you won't be able to perform as a man at night."
"...No I'm not? I'm... seriously not?"
"Puhah! Yes, yes~ I understaaand."
Ah, shit... today was not going well. High on the appearance compliments, I'd completely gotten sucked into Shin Iseol's pace.
But I couldn't just lose like this.
Just like the last time I'd teased her, I leaned my upper body forward and brought my face close to hers. Every time I did this she never knew what to do with herself—she'd pull her chin back slightly and open her eyes wide.
"Wh-what is it. Again?"
"If you're really that suspicious, why don't you test it yourself?"
"S-sorry? T-test what?"
She was so flustered her face turned red. But she didn't seem entirely against it either. If she truly hated it, she wouldn't have asked a follow-up question—she'd have kicked me or slapped me right away.
"Heh... just kidding, just kidding. It's funny, Manager—you never look away. When someone gets this close to me, the first thing I do is look away."
"Ah, what is it. Seriously."
Teasing Shin Iseol like this always lifted my mood again, even after getting fact-checked into the ground.
Right on cue, Lee Yeondo opened the door and walked in for her shift.
"Oh my. Junhyun. Why does your face look so radiant today? Good morning, Manager."
"I paid a little extra attention."
Without meaning to, I scratched my head and grinned. Yeondo flashed a little smile at what must have looked like pure nerd energy. She seemed to be in a good mood today.
"You look like you're in a good mood too, Yeondo."
"Ah, yes. Today's a reservation day. A male client from a shop I used to work at asked me to take care of his girlfriend."
"Ah, I see."
"Do you have a reservation today, Junhyun? You're at the counter."
"Yeah. I've got a payment coming in soon."
"Wow, another payment? You're really on a roll~ Oh right, Manager, when should we do the foot massage today?"
At Yeondo's question, Shin Iseol made a face like she hadn't expected that. She'd thought they'd gotten fairly close during the four-hand massage I'd given her, but she clearly hadn't imagined Yeondo would concede defeat this thoroughly.
"Hmm... shall we do it right after Junhyun's payment is done?"
"Sounds good!"
She answered brightly and headed toward the break room.
No matter how you looked at it, Lee Yeondo was on the good-natured side. Unlike a certain someone... I stared openly at Shin Iseol's profile.
"What? Is there something on my face?"
Feeling the heat of my gaze, she wiped at her own cheek. Before I knew it, the words left my mouth.
"You look pretty with your hair down."
Guh. Even I cringed so hard I almost couldn't breathe for a second.
I'd learned from Jin Ayoung. Women are weak to compliments, but they hate it when you lay it on too thick.
Yet it seemed to work on Shin Iseol—her face flushed red in an instant and she looked away from my eyes. Shin Iseol, who had always been so good at meeting my gaze.
"What are you saying..."
Huh... no way... does Shin Iseol like me? After all that sibling-style bickering...
Right then the door flew open and Kim Seoa burst in. You could hear her gasping for breath from how hard she'd been running, and she'd shoved the door open so hard the doorbell rang like it was having a nervous breakdown.
"Hah... hah... I-I'm here... hah..."
"Why'd you run so hard? You could've taken your time."
"Ah... I thought I shouldn't be late. H-here... the card..."
Kim Seoa clutched her knees, panting, then lifted her head to catch her breath.
The moment her eyes met Shin Iseol's, the words "Who the hell is this bitch?" might as well have been written across her forehead.