Which One Looks Better? (Reality)

"Would you let go already? You're going to ruin our daughter's skin."

Only after Mother stepped in to stop her could I finally slip free of the housekeeper's hands.

"Tch."

Only then did the housekeeper unwind the arms she had wrapped around me. The look she gave me, as if she hated to let go, was enough to raise goosebumps.

"So you want me to doll this child up? She already shines plenty without any of that."

I agreed a hundred times over. Someone might call the confidence excessive, but my looks were not the kind you ran into every day. I had inherited, in full, the genes of a mother they called a legend in an entertainment world already overflowing with beautiful faces. At that point it was not an inflated ego. It was simply a fact.

"Even so, this is our daughter's first time going on the air. If we're doing it, I want to make her the prettiest girl in the world."

"...Fine. Honestly, there's nothing on the face worth touching. A light bit of makeup and the game's already over. So we're down to the styling?"

"Styling?"

"Mm. Looking at you now, those clothes are far too thrown together. There are plenty of things in your size over there, so we can try them on one by one. Are your ears pierced? I've got a few accessories. Want to try some on?"

Pierce my ears? Accessories? Wait. Those were earrings.

"I-I..."

"Hm?"

"I don't want my ears pierced..."

I was the kid who used to cry through vaccination shots. And now I was supposed to put holes in my ears of my own free will?

"It's... a little scary..."

Absolutely not.

"...Ha. The face is a perfect copy of yours. The personality is completely different, though. Your husband's side?"

"He isn't the type to scare this easily, but... all right. We'll leave the earrings out."

Mother had always looked at me with a warm gaze, but this was different. She was watching me with an incredulous expression I had never seen before, and it stung a little.

"Then let's go over there. I can already sketch what style will suit her... but we'll still need to put a few outfits on her before I'm sure."

She flinched.

"Mom?"

Mother's shoulders jerked out of nowhere. What was that?

"H-huh? It's nothing... Eunha, Mom has to step outside and make a quick call. Stay here together."

"What? Oh... okay."

The flustered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rush was nothing like her, so it must have been urgent. I was not young enough to grow anxious just because Mother left my side, so I quietly followed the housekeeper.

"Well, the nuisance is gone. Shall we get started for real?"

"...What?"

"Don't worry. It'll be over soon."

And so, for a long while, I followed the housekeeper's orders and put on outfit after outfit. That I kept falling for the lie that this time would be the last, and ended up treated like a dress-up doll, was a story for a little later.

The Project A Gallery was the community where the most posts about Project A went up. Not only the game itself, but the Project A pro league was a constant topic there, and yesterday's second-division match between SC and CLC was more than enough firewood to burn through their boredom.

The chief problem with a place like that, though, was that the same firewood could feel like a knife in someone else's back.

"Haa..."

A man sighed as he read through the posts. He was one of the SC players currently being torn apart, and the name in the most mouths. He carried greater expectations than any of his teammates, and at the same time he was the one suffering under the greatest pressure.

"I told you not to look at stuff like this, Seongun."

He was SC's captain, the one they called the greatest prospect of all time: Nebula, Han Seongun.

"...Manager."

Han Seongun had been sitting alone in the practice room, scrolling the community. Looking after the players' mental state was supposed to be a mental coach's job, but Seongun almost never opened his heart to anyone, so the manager had come to him herself. She was the only person the boy who kept his distance from the coaching staff would let in, even a little.

"So stiff again. I keep telling you, you can just call me Yeeun-noona."

It was not only Han Seongun. Most of SC was close enough with her to open up, and in practice she doubled as the team's real mental coach.

"Let's stop here for today and head back to the dorm."

To pro gamers who were mostly teenagers, or barely into their twenties, a woman in her mid-twenties was bound to feel easier than a coaching staff closing in on their late thirties. A gentle nature that was kind to anyone, and a face people took to, were surely part of it as well. A few of the players were even genuinely interested in her.

"Yes."

Han Seongun, of course, was not one of them.

Ding.

"More importantly, did you eat?"

"No, not yet..."

"I told the cafeteria auntie to set your portion aside. Just heat it up when you get there."

Ding.

"...Okay. Manager, did you have din— ah."

Ding. Ding.

"Hm? I ate a while ago. More importantly, aren't you going to check your phone?"

The vibration cutting across their conversation belonged to Han Seongun's phone.

"Yes. One moment, please."

"Sure."

A message from Eunha, out of nowhere. The photos that arrived with it were selfies of her in two different outfits. One felt mature and grown-up. The other was cute, and innocent.

Why, of all people, is she asking me for something like this? He thought it, and still answered without hesitation. He already knew Eunha was a weirdo.

If he was going to answer, Han Seongun meant to think it through. Eunha's charm came entirely from the gap between a cold exterior and an easy, unfussy personality. What actually drew that charm out, of course, was nothing other than how exceptionally she looked.

Did Eunha herself know? That Han Seongun, whom she treated as nothing more than a friend, felt a romantic pull toward her?

Of course she had no romantic interest in him at all, and he already knew there was a gap between their families that could not be brushed aside. He had half given up and was content simply to remain a friend, but when she came at him like this, it was a little hard to handle.

"Who is it? A girlfriend?"

The manager said it while looking at his phone from beside him. Han Seongun quickly pocketed the phone as he answered.

"Just a friend I know."

A single selfie was probably not enough to work out who Eunha was, but she still had not revealed her face. To keep from leaking a friend's private life, just in case, he had to stay on guard even with a manager he trusted. There was the name Eunha saved in his contacts, and a face that resembled the entertainer once called a legend, now retired. Han Seongun worried the manager might put together who she was, but...

"Wow... who was that girl just now? She was insanely pretty..."

The manager did not seem particularly interested in Eunha's identity.

"Hey, Seongun. You couldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠introduce me to her, could you?"

More precisely, it would be fairer to say she was interested only in the looks of the Eunha in the photo.

Han Seongun was not the type to build a prejudice out of rumors alone, but he judged that introducing Eunha to the manager in front of him was out of the question.

"What? That's a little..."

Set beside Eunha she came up a little short, but the manager was still a beauty you did not find easily. Men beyond counting had shown an interest in her, and she had shut every one of them out. The only people she took an interest in were women with beautiful faces. Strange rumors circulating about her were perhaps inevitable.

"Kidding, kidding. But does an ordinary friend usually send selfies and ask you to pick the outfit?"

He swallowed what he wanted to say—She's just a weirdo—and stayed silent.

"...Kids these days are all like this."

"Huh. Must be nice, being young."

He had touched the manager's sore spot without meaning to. Still, any more interest in Eunha felt dangerous, so it was a choice he could not help. For the manager, and for Eunha both.