♔ Fiore's Next Top Model! ♔ (C/Solo)

It had been over a week since Louie had arrived in Fiore, bringing nothing but an interested, adventurous attitude and a small sum of a few million jewels—a minute portion of his individual wealth, which was "barely enough to get by" according to him. From the time he's spent away from Napedia, nothing particularly spectacular had happened, leaving Louie to his devices in the most literal sense. Ever since he purchased his iLac X Pro back in Neutral Grounds, it was the only thing aside from a few select joints in Honsenka that kept him occupied. He even gained a sponsorship the day he purchased the device! Needless to say, he was glued to the iLac, expecting something to happen—and sure enough, it did.

Conveniently, this iLac was able to locate restaurants, retail clothing stores, and other locations according to Louie's rather expensive, refined standards, and the day after he discovered this feature, he went out to explore.

He had planned to go to massaging spa in Capital Crocus, highly esteemed for its redeemable service and gross expenses, and seeing if it would be worthy of his coin. This was the majority of his time spent outside of a luxury suite—finding spots and businesses that replicated the grandeur of his accustomed lifestyle in Napedia. Unfortunately, most fell short of those expectations.

Ding! A spa door swung open, and standing there was Louie. He was wearing a black v-neck shirt with long sleeves and a collar, grey slacks, and shiny black loafers much like the ones he wore when he first came to Fiore. That pair was caked in dirt by the time he arrived at his destination, and instead of getting them professionally cleaned, he couldn't stomach the unpleasant memory they made him endure and was forced to toss them out.

The large, round shades that veiled his crimson eyes removed a certain humanity from him and replaced it with a feeling of unattainable beauty. When he walked in, it was as if some crowned jewel given human shape had stumbled into their massaging spa, his golden hair and unblemished, white skin engulfed with a regality unlike anyone else in that building. Some employees had stopped what they were doing to stare, captivated by it. Others chattered of him instead. Regardless, the room was enthralled by him.

Louie slid his shades away from his face as he looked around the room. The employees were split between young and middle-aged women, but all of them looked equally friendly and girlish. The establishment itself was clean and bright and looked almost acceptable. It was, after all, highly esteemed according to what he searched on his iLac.

"Excuse me," said Louie, smiling into the room at no one in particular, "is there a seat open?"

Towards the front end of the room, a young woman was pushed forward the ones who surrounded her, wearing her white uniform and her pecan hair tied back. "Yes, sir. I'm open right over here. Why don't you come with me?"

When Louie looked over to where she was pointing to, he knew that he was not going to be serviced alongside other people. He refused to be in such a public space and stopped the woman before she could trail off.

"Actually, mademoiselle, I'd like to have a more—well—private service if you have one."

"Oh, yes, we do! Follow me this way then, please."

When Louie had arrived at his booth, it became clear that the service he was paying for was definitely less public, but not entirely private. In the space next to him, separated by a large, thin curtain, he could see the silhouette of another man lying there with a woman servicing him in silence. Louie decided to ignore him and only tolerated his presence, closing his eyes and sprawling across the platform while the pecan-haired employee prepared an assortment of oils and rubs. Unfortunately, the man on the other side of the curtain desired something more audible.

"Bonjour, monsieur." the man greeted Louie in a tongue native to his home, Napedia. Louie said nothing. "I saw you come in earlier—where are you from?"

Louie was debating whether or not to respond, wondering if the man was worth speaking to at all. But from the way it was looking, the man probably would have kept talking even if Louie had fallen dead right this moment.

"Minstrel? Or maybe you're from overseas? Well, no matter. You know, you're quite a stunning man. You're prettier than some women, I might add!"

"I'm not interested in men." Louie snapped at him coolly, his eyes still closed but his face in a slight frown.

Peals of hearty laughter floated from the other side of the curtain. You could hear the man smiling. "Is that what you thought? I have an eye for natural aesthetics is all, and sir, you sure have it," he laughed again, the shadow of his head peering over to stare at Louie through the curtain, "I'm Levi Smith, and I work for the Sorcerer's Magazine. We're looking for models, you know, I think you have a natural talent."

Why are the commoners here so chatty? Have they nothing better to do with their time? Can they not see that I'm busy? How thick their skulls must be. Louie thought to himself, continuing to ignore the man with silence.

"Of course, we'll pay you if you would like to do a shoot with us. I only offer this to men and women who could excel, if not be the best in this craft."

Louie slowly opened his eyes and peered over to the curtain without moving his head. "How much?"

"Haha! Well. . .!"

. . .

"This is where we'll be casting the photo-shoot. Fiore's next Top Model will be shot in these rooms! Just thinking about it gets me all jittery!"

After Levi Smith clarified the pay, Louie was interested enough in the venture to pursue it. They were sauntering through a large, contemporary building that was comprised mostly of hairstylists, photographers, and other professionals in beauty and technicians, and of course, the other models. Some were famous or connected enough to have private booths, while the rest of the contestants all shared a space looking closer to a corridor with one large mirror and bright lights than a room. As he looked, Louie wasn't sure which he was going to be placed in, but it was one of the things he didn't care about.

"I should've mentioned that the shoot will take up most of the day. That's fine, right?" Levi Smith asked rhetorically, as he didn't really give Louie the chance to respond before he was enthralled with another conversation. "Tammy sweetie, I've brought a client in. You'll be working with him!"

"Hooo?" chimed "Tammy" as she shuffled through varies makeup tools and utensils, oogling Louie. "With a face like that, I don't think I'll have to work much at all! Come on in, sir."

And she was right. When Levi Smith left them alone in their private booth, the woman didn't spend more than ten minutes touching up on his already natural beauty and had finished prematurely with a result that looked stunning. This was partially due to Louie's unwillingness to have cosmetics put on his skin without his approval, and he already believed himself to be the most stunning even if he had walked out into the shoot even without anything on at all. The most they could provide him with was designer brands to wear during the shoot which was the only thing he enjoyed about the process.

When Levi Smith summoned all of the models into the shoot, it was clear that the process of elimination had dwindled an originally large number of contestants down to a mere five men, including Louie. They all had different tastes and aesthetics they were wearing, but the one thing they all had in common was the layers of makeup caking their complexion.

It must be a miserable existence having to compensate for what they lack in natural beauty. I think I'd kill myself if I had to live such a life. Louie thought to himself, wearing a kind smile and feigning friendliness. No one would have suspected such a condescending thought to cross his mind if he thought it with such an approachable, kindly expression after all.

Finally, with all five young men lined up (Louie did not care to remember their names or faces or even things as overt as their appearances), Levi Smith sat over his foldable chair and a rolled-up magazine coiled in his hands. A smile crossed his lips. "Okay, beautifuls! Showtime!"

And like so, it started. Louie insisted being the last to go, a large cardigan concealing most of his flawless body. All four men went into the shoot and did their time, all receiving high praise from the photographers and constructive, quick criticisms from Levi Smith himself. This was the case until Louie stood in front of the camera. While the others were dressed up, Louie was confident in the idea that more-was-less in his case. Who would prefer to see designer brands over the amazing body that wore them? Not a soul on this planet or any other deserved to see his flesh laid bare, but perhaps peeks at his neck and shoulder or even his forearm would be enough to quench their insatiable thirst for beauty and satisfy his need to reign supreme over the other contestants.

"Gorgeous! Stunning! You're absolutely stunning, Mr. Klein! Give me more! Shoulder! Work the shoulder!" cheered Levi Smith, waving his rolled-up magazine in the air like a baton and his entire body animated from the foldable chair.

Louie was sitting on a stool with a thin, white silk robe drawn over him, looking at the camera with seductive longing. It slipped and slid over his smooth, white skin so that the camera could only peek at the nearly naked body hiding behind it. The way his crimson eyes peered desirably at the lenses made the photographer feel enthralled in a web of desire, spun by a golden spider's thin, shiny silk. Even the other models who observed his shooting felt their cheeks glow when watching. It was as if he were naked even though only slivers of his body were being revealed, and yet the shyness they felt told them that it was otherwise.

Louie knew he was captivating and that he was desired by all if he tried to portray himself in such a way. How could you resist, after all? People were drawn to things that were pleasing to the eye, smooth and soft to the touch, and rousing to the ears. His voice was like a chocolate candy—smooth and sweet, even though he had said hardly anything at all. His lips were uncracked and plump, and his jawline was as if a Goddess of Beauty had sculpted it herself. He was the pinnacle of perfection, the textbook definition of flawless, a God's true intention to reflect their own image, so there was no excuse to not put him on the face of any magazine if they truly wanted to pitch perfection to an audience. In fact, Louie would be doing them a favor. It's not every day that third-world citizens get a chance to see what real beauty is, after all. If pigs dined on delicacies and not animal feed, they'd never go back.

An hour had come and passed as if it were a minute, and the photoshoot had inevitably, unfortunately, come to an end. Levi Smith still looked animated even though he was sitting still in his chair. The photographer shuffled through the photos as soon as they finished, captivated by his work and Louie.

"Wonderful, Mr. Klein! Just wonderful!" Levi Smith chanted, the other models still watching in awe. "While this concludes our photoshoot for today, please take my business card!"

Louie didn't say anything and instead gave a humble, triumphant smirk, although it might've just looked like a kind smile to them. Needless to say, when he took his pay and left, he was approved as being the face of the magazine. Fiore's Next Top Model, if you will. A surprising amount of clout draws from such a business, apparently, as many people recognized his beauty after the magazine published.

Too easy.