Dawn had only just cracked.
Faint sunlight filtered weakly through the milky glass of the cheap apartment window, casting pale lines on the scuffed tile floor. Beyond the glass, the sea murmured softly, the familiar cadence of waves striking against the edge of City A. A place of salt and wind, of dreams dressed in neon and reality stained with rust. It was the kind of sound that didn't disturb you, but also never quite let you forget where you were.
Hao Hao awoke.
He didn't leap out of bed. Didn't gasp or bolt upright. Instead, his eyes opened slowly, blankly, like a tired man recalling a lifetime he never lived. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the peeling ceiling, his hands resting on his soft belly.
Then it came.
[Trait Assimilation Complete – Clear-Faced Youth]
The system's voice rang in his mind like a ripple across still water. No mechanical fanfare. Just a line of text, and a soft chime. But it was enough to pull him out of bed.
He rushed to the mirror.
And there it was.
Gone. All of it.
The pimples that had once clustered on his cheeks like angry ants, the greasy sheen that had made his skin look like a stir-fried egg, the red welts and inflamed pores. Even the deep acne scars, the ones that had hollowed his face into a battlefield, had vanished. His skin was now smooth. Clear. Undeniably so.
Not stunning. Not radiant.
But clean. Presentable.
He looked like someone who mattered. Someone who could be looked at without wincing.
Average.
And in this world… where a man's appearance was his only currency… average meant salvation.
He touched his cheek in disbelief, fingertips hovering as if the mirror might suddenly correct itself and show him the truth.
"…Not bad," he muttered under his breath.
A small, stupid smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Not out of vanity. But out of sheer relief. For once, the boy in the mirror didn't make him want to punch glass.
He changed clothes quickly—black joggers, a clean white T-shirt, a new zip-up hoodie he hadn't dared to wear until now. Something cheap but new. Something that didn't scream secondhand shame.
Just as he zipped it up—
Ding dong.
He paused. Brow furrowed.
The doorbell?
He didn't remember ordering anything. And he hadn't made any appointments. The landlady wasn't due for another two weeks, and even she usually just banged on the door like she owned the place.
He approached warily.
Then opened the door.
And immediately regretted it.
She was tall. Towering, even.
The silhouette of her figure cast a long shadow down his narrow hallway. Clad in a fitted black blazer, matching pants that hugged endless legs, and heeled boots that gleamed like polished stone. Her face was mostly obscured by the morning light, but the scent reached him clearly—high-end perfume, something floral but dangerous. A kind of expensive femininity that made you feel poor just by smelling it.
Then she stepped forward.
And he saw her eyes.
Ice blue.
Cold. Unblinking.
As if they were dissecting him with every glance.
"…Liu Yifei…" he murmured, heart sinking.
The woman in question tilted her head slightly, her red lips curving faintly into a smile. "So it really is you," she said. Her voice was smooth—too smooth. The kind of smooth that made your instincts scream.
The moment he reached for the door—
She moved.
A sharp heel lodged into the crack before it could shut. The door rebounded open.
And with a casual flick of her wrist, she pushed it wider, her stride confident and unhurried as she stepped past him. Her presence flooded his home like smoke.
She looked around once. Just once.
Then said, "Tch. So the little rabbit lives in a cramped doghouse like this?" Her voice was filled with lazy disgust, as if merely being inside lowered her bloodline. "It's much too small, Hao Hao."
Something snapped.
Without thinking, Hao Hao grabbed the nearest umbrella like a sword. "Are you insane?! How did you even find me?! My name?! My address?! What the hell do you want?!"
Liu Yifei blinked. "Tsk. Rabbit, put that away before you hurt yourself."
"Don't call me that!"
He swung.
But he never landed a hit.
The next moment, the umbrella was out of his hands. Spinning through the air. His back hit the door with a dull thud, and a hand slapped the wall beside his face.
Kabe-don.
The goddess of a thousand faces now loomed over him, her cool breath fanning his cheek. Her other hand came up, lifting his chin between two fingers. Delicate. Precise.
"Hmm…" she hummed, studying his face. "Average. Chubby. And the sallow skin tone? Unforgivable. I'm disappointed."
"…You're crazy," he whispered, eyes wide.
"Oh? And yet I came all this way for you."
That did it.
With righteous fury, Hao Hao summoned the secret forbidden technique passed down through generations of bullied men—
He kicked.
Upward. With everything he had.
Right between her legs.
"…Ugh—!"
The result was immediate.
Liu Yifei crumpled like a folding chair.
She staggered, gasped, hands flying to cover the source of her pain. Her expression—twisted, furious, undignified. An award-winning actress brought to her knees by a plump boy in cheap joggers.
If the world had paused for a photo, it would've gone viral.
"Let's see how your god-complex likes that," Hao Hao muttered, brushing imaginary dust from his hoodie.
But even as she crouched there, shaking—
She laughed.
Low. Dark. And thrilled.
"…Interesting," she whispered.
And that… worried him more than anything.
+
The tiny apartment fell into an awkward hush, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional distant cry of a seagull from the beach nearby.
At the center of the cramped space, two figures sat stiffly across from one another. On one side, Liu Yifei—clad in sleek black, legs crossed, spine straight, her expression unreadable despite the faint trace of earlier humiliation still lingering in the corners of her eyes. On the other, Hao Hao—still in his jogging hoodie, arms folded, frown deep, trying his hardest to look dangerous despite his fluffy cheeks and average height.
Between them sat a cheap ceramic cup of hot tea, steam curling upward.
Liu Yifei picked it up.
Sipped.
Paused.
And grimaced.
"This tea," she said, her nose wrinkling with undisguised contempt, "tastes like it was filtered through your socks."
Hao Hao's lips twitched. The system did warn him she was double-faced.
"You break into my apartment. You insult my face. You get kicked where it hurts most. And now you're insulting my tea?" he said, his tone flat.
Liu Yifei didn't even blink. "It's not your tea I'm insulting. It's your taste."
If eye-rolling could kill, Hao Hao would've ascended on the spot.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and fixed her with a look that was as sharp as it could get coming from a guy with cheeks like steamed buns. "What I want to know is… what is the number one model in the country doing in my run-down apartment in this little city? How do you know my name? My address? Don't tell me it's coincidence."
She twirled the cup lightly in her hand, gazing at the tea surface as if it held the mysteries of the universe. Her aura was slowly returning—cold, poised, annoyingly regal.
"Why ask such trivial things?" she murmured. "Isn't it enough that I'm here?"
"That's not an answer."
"It's not a question worth answering."
There was a beat of silence. One that would've driven a lesser man into a shouting fit.
But Hao Hao was not that man.
His face didn't move.
His voice was even calmer than before. "Then why are you here?"
Finally, Liu Yifei's lips curled—not in mockery this time, but with a strange expression. Like she was trying to decide whether to be honest, or to lie so beautifully it wouldn't matter.
"I've always been at the top," she said, softly. "Ever since I can remember. Whether it was school, modeling, acting, endorsements… men, women, praise, attention… I got them all. I conquered them all. But I never—"
"Spare me the memoir." Hao Hao interrupted coolly. "Get to the point."
Her eyes narrowed, just for a second.
But then, she lifted the cup again, exhaled, and took another sip of his terrible tea. This time, she didn't even wince.
"What a cold little rabbit," she muttered. "Fine. Then I'll be direct."
She placed the cup down.
Her gaze locked with his.
"Are you… interested in becoming a model?"