Inside a spacious, bright, spotless plastic surgery hospital, Mahito stood in a sharp suit, his beautiful, long aqua-blue hair tied at the ends. He politely regarded the ladies gathered around him, a suitably gentle, professional smile on his face.
His clean, beautiful face lacked its original stitches, giving him an unusual air of innocence and purity.
The ladies looked at Mahito's beautiful face, then at their newly treated skin, which looked entirely natural, and marveled at his work.
"Mr. Mahito..."
One girl, her expression bright with yearning, tried to invite Mr. Mahito to dinner.
Mr. Mahito had arrived at this plastic surgery hospital a year ago. No one knew where the shop owner had recruited him; one day, he had simply started working there.
His Plastic Surgery skills were nothing short of miraculous. No matter how severe the scar or how difficult the problem, there was nothing he couldn't fix.
Over the course of a year, he had not had a single medical mishap and had perfectly resolved every customer's problem.
What's more, he was humble and polite, and never made advances toward his female customers. He had become the establishment's living advertisement.
After seeing off the last customer, the smile instantly vanished from Mahito's face. He backed up two steps and collapsed into a nearby chair, inwardly wailing.
I'm a curse!
A curse hated and feared by humans!
Why do I have to work here?!
And as a plastic surgeon, of all things!
Yet when the doorbell rang again and a new customer entered, Mahito instantly sprang from his chair, put his gentle professional smile back on, and then-
As he watched the two young teachers enter-one black-haired with a bun, the other white-haired with blue eyes-the corners of his mouth twitched. His smile nearly slipped, twisting with pain.