Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Entire private collections lived there—unreleased clothing, one-of-one designs, celebrity pieces, experimental cuts, custom commissions, fabrics not yet announced to the public, and outfits Park did not understand but suspected would be described as revolutionary by people too frightened to admit they looked ridiculous.

He stayed away from the more dramatic material for now.

One jacket appeared to have been designed during an ongoing disagreement with sleeves while another outfit carried enough straps to qualify as emergency equipment.

The floor was fascinating anyway, so he’ll look at that than the insane designs.

Every designer house had its own private salon, its own stylists, its own security, and its own vulture, which was the only word Park could find for them. Designers and creative directors and fashion executives looked at him with the naked hunger of investors examining an undiscovered company, their attention moving over his face and shoulders and height and proportions.

They did not see a customer but a mannequin dispatched by God after a particularly generous afternoon.

One creative director approached Emmeline directly. "Who is he?"

"My friend."

"Model?"

"Actor."

The woman looked at Park again. "Change is coming huh."

Park heard that too, and smiled to himself.

’Interesting.’

By the time they reached the ninety-eighth floor, the rumors had caught fire in all Emmeline and elite circles:

Emmeline Bennett’s mysterious companion

The new actor

The beautiful stranger from and new actor in The City

The poor talented boy apparently moving through private Imperial Park Royale boutiques as though he had been born there thanks to Emmeline investing in him

—which, technically, he had.

The posts multiplied. Rich girls shared clips, noble accounts reposted pictures, entertainment pages started pulling Park’s tiny scene from the series, and several streamers had already produced short reactions asking who the hell he was and why production had killed him after giving him roughly twelve seconds of screen time.

Park had no slight idea what was going on and too ignorant about this current world he was in to know what any of this meant.

Jessie had become the primary supplier.

She had taken dozens of pictures with him over the course of the day—selfies in lifts, mirror shots inside boutiques, pictures against glass walls, pictures in different outfits, pictures with sunglasses, pictures where she stood beside him looking deeply pleased with her own luck.

And Park had no problem with her closeness and he had no issues with how close or intimate she could be with him: why would he say no to a person he found so irresistibly beautiful. He had class and he was no whore but Park also knew what he wanted and Jessie was one of them, so the closer she got with him (physically and as an acquaintance) the better, he’ll just be patient and shape this bond of theirs.

Jessie was physically shorter than Emmeline by a good margin, soft where Emmeline was sharp.

Sometimes Emmeline became the unwilling photographer:

"Closer," she ordered from behind Jessie’s phone.

Jessie stepped nearer.

"Closer."

Jessie looked back at her. "How close?"

Emmeline sighed. "Put your arm around his waist. You two look like strangers waiting for a bus."

’What! You do make a good wingman, sis.’ Park thought and relaxed himself to ease her in and show her it was okay.

Jessie laughed and slid one arm around him, and Park settled his own across her shoulders and drew her in the rest of the way himself, which was a full step further than anybody had asked for.

Jessie’s breath caught audibly.

Emmeline studied the frame. "Better."

"Should I smile?" Jessie asked, and her voice had lost a little of its structure on the way out.

Park looked down at her. "No. Look miserable. People love a romance rumour with emotional damage."

She laughed all the way through the pictures they took in many intimate poses.

They took some with her hands around his arm, another with her leaning into his shoulder, then one where she looped both arms loosely around his neck and Park rested a hand at her soft waist, thumb settling just above the top of the skirt, and let it stay there.

’This has to be the second woman I have been so intimately close with in this world.’

"You’re very warm," Jessie said, without any apparent plan to say it.

"You’re very close."

"That’s your fault."

"It absolutely is and I do not mind how you hands are making circles on me." He whispered to her.

She went pink from her throat to her ears but did not step back, and Park did not move his hand, and more pictures came out of that particular arrangement was going to do damage to somebody’s afternoon.

"Are you always like this? Free and flirtatious?" she asked.

"Only when someone gives me a reason."

Jessie lifted her chin obediently and then laughed at herself for doing it, and Park grinned down at her, shamelessly satisfied, having now established beyond any reasonable doubt that this was going to be beyond just an acquaintance through Emmie.

They took so many in different outfits too.

He never crossed the line, though.

Jessie was elite rather than foolish, and Park understood perfectly well that closeness in a photograph did not constitute permission for anything beyond one: not when they were just this. He gave her the pose she wanted, the angle she wanted, and a smile calibrated precisely hot enough to warm her face before the flash and cool enough to leave her uncertain afterward about exactly what had happened.

By the end they had taken more than twenty pictures together. Jessie posted some immediately and quietly saved the rest, because who knew when she would get another chance with him at this to take more?

And approximately four metres to the left, Quinn was having a difficult afternoon.

Park had been tracking it since the boutique. It had begun with Lane’s hands and had progressed steadily through the day, and by the time Jessie had both arms around his neck as if she was going to kiss him, some times deep in his arms as Emmie instructed; jealous had arrived somewhere neither of them was going to acknowledge out loud.

Quinn’s posture had not changed or her expression.

She was, by every visible measure, a security professional conducting a standard perimeter assessment in a low-threat retail environment.

She had also not looked directly at Park in eleven minutes, which was a considerable achievement for a woman being paid to watch him, and her jaw had a particular set to it that Park was beginning to catalogue with real fondness.

He caught her eye in a mirror while Jessie was checking the last shot.

Quinn looked away first.

’Oh,’ Park thought, delighted beyond all reason. ’Oh, that’s lovely.’

Jessie on the other hand chose her favorite photos to post:

One post showed him in a loose cream knit beside the window with Aurora burning below. Another showed the black streetwear outfit, one hand in his pocket, Jessie against his side. A third was a short video of him turning toward the camera after Emmeline called his name while Jessie was fixing his shirt collar.

And that one was going to pass a million views before the tomorrow finished.

By the time every purchase had been approved, organised, fitted, commissioned, registered for delivery, or scheduled for collection, Park’s wardrobe had been transformed from a sad little hostage situation into a full economic event.

He did not ask for the final total, because he valued his peace. The Bennett card absorbed all of it without complain.

Then they finally left the shopping floors.

The group crossed a private passage toward one of the enormous skybridges connecting the Left Tower to the one beside it. The corridor opened gradually, the walls turning from dark stone to full glass until Aurora surrounded them on every side, and Park slowed, and then stopped completely.

The Skybridge was enormous. Gardens ran beneath a curved glass roof. Trees rose from polished stone islands ringed with water. Restaurants and private lounges opened along both sides with terraces facing out over the city, and beneath the transparent sections of the floor Aurora simply fell away for hundreds of metres, roads and rooftops shining in the afternoon sun so far below that the entire capital looked like a rumour of itself.

Park walked to the glass slowly. The city spread out under him, endless and gold, wrapped in sunlight and distant sound.

"Damn," he whispered.

Lunch, apparently, came with the whole world underneath their feet.

****

A/N:I tried as much as I could to write a very summarized first time for Park’s Slice of Life, if you want me to summarize even more in the future or we indulge more in his now good life, just let me know. One last set before we finish this and do to our first r-18 of this book!

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!