It was in the middle of summer and the sun was scorching hot. Rashan could feel his soles melting on the asphalt road as he ran on the pedestrian lane to find a random shade to stay in.
He leaned on the wooden pole beside the missing poster. Rashan glanced at the face in curiosity before turning his head to scan for a place to hide from the sun.
Finally, he spotted a yellow bus stop with a vending machine on the side. He first dropped a coin in the machine to order a soda.
TCH!
The sound of the can opening was refreshing. Without wasting any time, he chugged the soda as if it was water, oh bless his kidneys. After finishing the can, he let out a loud burp and tossed the empty soda in the trash.
"Oh fuck!" Rashan screamed the moment he sat down. He quickly jumped up as if something had bitten his butt.
He forgot that the chairs in this stop were metal. Rashan could still feel the sting on his cheeks and couldn't help but suspect that he probably got a second-degree burn.
"Can this day get even worse?" With his eyes squinting at the road, Rashan was about to go game over.
He visited five companies to apply for a job, but when they saw his appearance, they were already in doubt.
So when they read his information and realized that he had a record, they firmly rejected his application without any room for maneuvering.
"Why are they so damn picky?" Rashan felt that they were being unreasonable, "Rejecting an applicant because of a minor violation? It's not even a violent crime! It's just a speeding violation!"
78 speeding violations, to be exact. Heck, he even went to jail for that (just three days though) because he didn't have the money to bail himself out.
Why would they be bothered with that when the job that he's applying for was not to be a company driver?
Rashan was desperate, he even tried applying for a dishwasher, but he still got rejected.
The reason?
According to the owner, "Young man, Feng Shui is important for us businesses. Your appearance is not in line with our aura. Sorry, but you are not compatible with us."
And when Rashan asked what was wrong—should he change his style? Should he cut his hair?—because this was the damn fourth time that he was rejected because of appearance, but no one had specifically pointed out what was wrong with him.
The boss probably pitied him, so he finally said it frankly with a sigh in his voice, "Boy, you look like a ghost, a malicious one at that. No business dares hire someone who looks like they could scare the customers, ahem... With that look of yours, you can even scare the employees."
After hearing that, Rashan's soul left his body. He could change anything but his appearance.
As if that wasn't enough, the boss even pulled Rashan toward the wall mirror to let him see what he was talking about.
Rashan had long black hair reaching his waist. His skin was so white that it looked translucent, to the point that veins that shouldn't be showing started to become visible.
Coupled with the dark circles in his eyes and his bright red lips, he looked like an Eastern ghost in those urban legends.
"Now imagine," the boss said while patting Rashan's shoulders, "a face like that washing dishes in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Who wouldn't be scared?"
With tears in his eyes, Rashan asked the boss to stop as he ran out of the shop. The boss was shaking his head, watching his departing back.
Rashan's parents didn't just leave him a massive amount of debt as inheritance, they also gifted him a ghastly look enough to scare the shit out of people.
Facial-features-wise, Rashan is not bad-looking and could even be considered handsome, but that 'handsomeness' didn't help because having a pretty face worsened the scare factor.
Those other bosses were probably afraid he'd haunt them if they said the truth since all their rejections sounded amicable.
"Brother, I see you're looking for a job?"
Rashan turned his head to his side and saw a 'real estate business agent' who looked like a young man smiling at him.
"Do you need anything?" Rashan became wary. Is this one of those pyramiding recruiters? Or maybe worse, a persistent salesman?
Not fazed by Rashan's strong aura of repulsion, the man looked at the job application folder in his hand and gave a meaningful smile as he said, "I mean no harm. I just want to help a struggling man."
"Will you give me money?" Rashan said, his eyes narrowing at the smug look on that guy's face.
"Even better!" As if selling some merchandise, the man said with full enthusiasm, "I can give you a job!"
"Does that involve something illegal? If so, then count me out." Rashan flatly stated his bottom line. He believed that if he was going to commit a crime, then that better be his choice rather than being ordered by a sketchy organization.
"Of course not," the man assured. "We just need you to act as a clown for our show."
"Are you looking dow—"
"6,000 a show. This is a big event with many rich guys watching."
"Sure. Sign me up." Like flipping a book, Rashan's face turned from being insulted to all flowers and butterflies.
The man clapped his hands and asked, "Great! Do you want to go now?" Still with that smile on his face.
"Now? Okay." Rashan didn't think much of it, money is money, and when it comes to being crazy, S didn't think there were many who could surpass him in that area.
Now that everything was set, Rashan followed the man toward the parking lot behind the building. As they walked, Rashan glanced at the man's face and realized something.
Aside from this man's pristine suit and that strange clown brooch placed at the bottom rim of his coat, something felt strange about his face.
His smile looked off. Not in the way that it was punchable, but in the fact that it looked like a mask.
Like literally a mask.
It was as if a mouth was drawn on a blank canvas. Very odd and unnatural.
Should I try pinching his face?
Well, let's not do that.
Rashan reigned his impulsiveness. Wearing a skin mask? Why would anyone do that?