《Psychological Control》


 Prologue

    Prologue: Reborn, because God didn''t have eyes making me encounter a serial killer


    Under the colorful theater light in the crowded hall, the MC appeared from the back stage, excitedly announced the events. The spotlight focused entirely on him, and as the noise died down, the audience all knew the final performance of the night was about to begin.


    Contrary to the orderly and neat front stage, the back stage was a chaos. Dancers were busy either checking their outfits to make sure their hairstyle and clothes fit together or holding one another''s legs down for warm-up and stretching.


    I sank down onto the sofa away from the crowd, resting my feet in military boots on the make-up desk while playing with the peaked cap on my head in boredom. The leather outfit on my body seemed to be a size smaller today; probably it was our dance group manager who had secretly changed it.


    This was a dancing competition, and I was a part-time jazz dancer for the dance group. Commercial dance group often took some TV shows, such as being the dance crew for a celebrity''s performance. We participated in this competition because our manager wanted us to get the first prize to boost up the group''s reputation; while I wanted to use the skills I got after sneaking into dance classes for a short time to earn money for living.


    Even though my background as an orphanage could intrigue a clich¨¦ but emotional story, in the end I still by myself got into a university that was not so bad with a scholarship enough for me to manage all the other fees, , major in psychology.


    A hip-hop dance group got to the stage for the opening performance. They were invited by the competition''s host to heat up the atmosphere for the contestants. Since my jazz dance was the first performance after the opening, I also began to do some warm up exercises.


    On the stage were performers in various types of outfits dancing in the intense music. Just as the jarring music stopped, I strode out, military boots on the stage floor created such a sound effect that easily caught everyone''s attention. The echoing sound in the empty space seemed to make the atmosphere tensed up.


    This was my designation for opening; I knew well how to catch the audience''s attention. I didn''t know if it was because I had always been living by myself that I needed to observe others carefully. I was particularly sensitive to people''s thought and emotion changes through their facial expressions and subconscious body movements.


    This was the reason why I chose to major in Psychology. The difficult, ambiguous Psychology in other people''s eyes when came to me was easy as pie.


    Precisely controlled everyone''s heart, using skillful dance to excite their sensation, I performed all the moves that I had rehearsed over many times. I thrusted my hip and butt as in twerking; it was a simple move yet because it could exhibit the elasticity of my musculature, it was nevertheless welcomed.


    One of my hands was high in the air while the other was stroking myself, the front half body made the body wave, my chin was up making a "sniffing" action ¨C each movement was devoted to arouse the audience. Jazz dance was a lively, diverse dance style with sharp movements. At the moment I was also panting heavily in the middle of the song.


    I swung my body along the rhythmic melody. As jazz dance required elasticity and strength, I was soaked in sweats just after a short while. The one size smaller black leather pant tightly covered my legs, under the theater light my curves were so noticeable, exciting the audience''s eyes.


    The wild madness of the girls below the stage made me a bit dizzy, moreover my sexuality is gay; it was hard for having practiced such moves for like a thousand times me to concentrate now. My eyes, hidden under the cap, boringly wandered around.


    The song was getting near to the end, as the atmosphere was pushed to its peak I threw down my cap, eliciting screams from the audience. As the song was fading away, I slowly kneeled down on the stage.


    Suddenly at the moment I felt a gaze that was almost physical, this feeling of being a poisonous snake eyes pierced through made my heart skipped a beat.


    I stopped my movement on the dance stage, instead turned my face directly to the audience and stood up, searching in the crowd the gaze that gave me a cold sweat but got no result.


    Maybe I should go home early today rather than waiting till this dance competition ended. Having made the decision, I went to the backstage telling my boss. He was busy cheering the dancers that would soon perform so he easily agreed, even complimented me on my performance today while slipping some "encouraging" money bills to my hands.


    I put on my never changing smiling face, went to greet my other dancers in the group that I didn''t even remember the names, then got to the changing room to put on my original clothes and left with those not so small money bills.


    The competition used the stage of a pretty famous pub, because the main sponsor was the pub''s owner. Next to the pub''s backdoor was a small alleyway filled with smoke and alcohol smell, the drunkards and prostitutes around both disgusted me.


    Pulling up the hoodie to cover my head, I passed through the alleyway to the parking lot where my poor secondhand car was. Contrary to the noisy alleyway, the spacious crossroad was eerily quiet; people going out at night were like a mouse crossing the road, comfortable in a dark corner and scared of a dim light.


    Holding the car key I slightly sighed out, when I was thinking of how taking a shower should wash away such tiredness, a black shadow reflected from the car''s glass. Not giving me enough time to turn around, a piercing pain went from my waist straight to my brain; my world blackened, and I fell into someone''s cold arms.


    Electroshock gun¡­ What kind of robbers would carry around such advanced weapon? The first thing I did after regaining my consciousness wasn''t opening my eyes but slowing down my breathing rates, trying to listen for any cues from the environment.


    I could feel my arms were being tied up behind my back, and I was lying on an icy ground that probably made up from metal. For the short moment I couldn''t guess where I was at, the pain from my waist was still throbbing.


    "Clang" ¨Csomething was being dropped. The sound of walking step broke the quiet space; my exposed skin because of the air moved as the person approached closer got goosebumps.


    I could feel him getting close, very close; I could even tell that he was at most a few centimeters away from my face, my skin could feel his breaths; then he suddenly stepped back, and my neck was squeezed tightly.


    "I know you are awake, open your eyes¡­"


    His voice was hoarse, like the sound of paper being ripped apart. Damn it, was this my boss''s enemy? I already knew that carelessly stealing others'' business would eventually run into trouble, but why the unlucky one was always me?


    My hesitance in a second was taken as protesting, the grip around my neck got tighter; I couldn''t breathe and opened my eyes.


    God! This man did not cover his face.


    Criminals who didn''t cover their appearance were the most dangerous, as they from the very beginning did not have any intention of letting the victim survive, so they did not care if they were seen or not. This was the basic knowledge in criminal psychology.


    At first I didn''t take criminal psychology class with any thought of becoming a police officer, but rather it was personal interest. Majoring in Psychology, I had always planned to earn a working license, becoming a well-paid psychiatrist. Who knew this class would first become useful.


    This middle-aged man''s eyes showed a trace of insanity; his lips were dry, beard unshaved, hair was with sign of baldness, body looked distorted but could show that he once must have been working out regularly in gyms.


    This frustrated middle-age man must be a successful person, the brand of his watch was out of reach of people with average income, not to mention that this design just came out this year, its price was like thousands dollars. His shirt was wrinkled, the cuff still had some wet spots, the smell on his body was like that of the pub''s air freshener in WC; shit, he was the owner of the gaze I felt while on stage.


    His left hand still had a mark from wearing ring, seemed like he was an emotional person. His target was me, whose body also was fit from working out in the gyms.


    He was gay.


    "Cough¡­ cough." As I opened my eyes, this mad man formed a pleasant smile and loosened the grip that was choking me. I noticed that he did not cover my mouth, I bet he must have taken me to a rather remote place.


    My eyes scanned around, this place looked like a truck garage, or maybe a storage. Each cue I had from the environment made me even more hopeless, as this implied his target wasn''t my boss, but it was me.


    If it was for benefits, I had confidence in keeping myself alive until helpers came through negotiation. But if it was a psychopath I did not think I could escape from a madman''s hands.


    I remembered a couple days ago I saw an article about a serial killer; all of his victims were young Asian boys, before getting killed were forced to have sexual contact, the cause of death was suffocation, and a strange point was that their tongues were all cut.


    The police guessed the culprit was a homosexual, also Asian, man. After all, cross-race serial killers were so rare. But now if I could survive from this, I definitely would run to the police station and scream to them, you guys had guessed a wrong culprit profile, broaden your mind a!


    Because even in darkness I could see that this man was a typical Caucasian. Thinking of the misery the victims had gone through depicted on the article, for the first time of my life I thought of committing suicide.


    Committing suicide, early death early reincarnation. At least it was me giving myself an ending, while now waiting for me ahead was an unknown nightmare.


    Most people never thought they would get into the same tragedy depicted on the news, like me. I remembered after reading that article, I even thought that maybe not so long after the killer was caught I would have one more essay prompt to write. Analyze the newest criminal case was professors'' favorite topic.


    Never thought that now I would become a part of text in that analyzing essay, how irony.


    His two glove-worn hands, except for the one hand that choked me early, was holding a sharp butcher knife, at first it looked just like being brought out from a kitchen.


    He looked at me, laughing, shaking the knife in front of me. If I hadn''t read the news article, I probably would start talking to him. But I would not, because he probably would cut off my tongue right after that.


    This madman''s lover was an Asian guy that betrayed him. He cut off each victim''s tongue, because tongue brought lies.


    I kept my mouth tightly shut looking at his bald head, acting like a wood doll. I didn''t want to show my fear or any terrified reaction, even though my heart was palpating so hard it was like in my throat.


    To these revenge serial killers, the more terrified the victim, the more excited they got.


    "Talk¡­ talk to me!" ¨C the madman was disturbed by the silence, probably it was the first time he saw the victim not begging for mercy, the quiet situation made him feel like the victim was getting out of his control.


    His swinging knife cut a wound on my cheek, I frowned, tears coming out uncontrollably as a physiology reflex. Damn¡­even dead my face would be ruined.


    As expected, seeing my tears excited this madman, he laughed while moving the knife on my face, staring at my wound; blood flowed out from it, running to my eye corner.


    "Tell me¡­ tell me you love me.." the mad guy whispered to my ear, the hot wet air made my tears flow even more, couldn''t distinguish if it was reflexing physiological tears or frightened psychological tears.


    He buried his head onto my nape, I could only saw one side of his shoulder along with the hand holding the knife near my chest. If I couldn''t escape from death¡­ I should at least take a risk fighting back once¡­


    If I failed then early death early reincarnation.


    I stared directly of the knife moving, slowly opened my mouth.


    ¡­


    Was he dead yet?


    Under the dimly lit light, I saw many shadows in front of me.


    I was planning to use my words mocking him, making him under the anger lose his guard, giving me a sneak attack and escape chance. In the end I still failed. He was not simply a pervert but a madman. With a pervert I could still have a chance fooling him around, but holding a conversation with a madman? I had no chance.


    Using the life of an excellent youth like me to trade off a mad serial killer''s life, this was really not worth. Too bad God above was stingy, I had no other choice.


    My hands holding the butcher knife were a bit shaky, because of the lack of air my ears started to ring, my vision was getting blurry; the blood of that mad guy almost covered my entire body, the warm liquid was getting colder and colder.


    ¡­.


    "Police admitted, the sketched criminal profile was wrong in the beginning, leading to wrong investigating direction. The killer and a victim were dead for three days until the police discovered the corpses¡­"


    "Tongue cutting serial killer case was solved. Was this the loss of humanity or the loss of morality! Please read further for more details¡­"


    ¡­


    I thought that this was the end, what a tragic life ah. Orphaned, self-taught to get into university, got a good scholarship, about to graduate, future was in my hand, finally because god did not have eyes I encountered a serial killer, bravely fought back and got both killed, died at the age of twenty three, became a top news on newspaper, an essay prompt in university, then went through cremation, rested in the public cemetery, returned to dust.


    But, when my consciousness not yet fell into deep sleep, I suddenly felt my body was almost like returning back to earth from outer space. My skin touched the burning asphalt road under the intense sunlight, I heard some people said


    "Someone fainted. Call the ambulance !"

 CH 1

    CHAPTER 1 - New identity as Brian Morse. Finally getting out of the mental health center.


    "Brian Morse, 18 year-old, antisocial personality disorder patient. Three years ago was released from the mental health center but was brought back again a month later because of self-perception distortion. Now I want everyone to determine his case and make a final decision."


    In the meeting room were psychiatrists, holding Brian Morse''s medical record on their hands. The profile picture showed a young guy with pale skin, curly redhead, looking calm and unperturbed.


    "We spent two years building back his personality, another year confirming the result. The patient has passed all the psychology test, hypnosis test, and test in social functioning. Results showed that the patient''s ability to function normally in society can meet with normal people, in fact, the patient had event started to teach himself psychology. We have enough evidence to believe that the patient can control himself¡­"


    "Three years ago Brian Morse because of a relapse was brought back again, but after that he was very cooperative in treatment, giving us the feeling that it was just an accident. After all, the patient has been here since he was 4, getting back to the normal society after 11 years, it''s possible that it was a momentary shock that led to the relapse."


    "If that''s the case," the chairman put a stamp on the profile, "Brian Morse is approved to be discharge from the."


    Mental health center was easy to get in but hard to get out. After three years, Brian Morse again was discharged from the center, leading to the congratulations of all the nurses. In a high-pressure environment like mental health center, lively and cheerful Brian was everyone''s favorite boy.


    I am Brian Morse, but at the same time I am still myself, the hard-working youth that died in the hand of a madman on the third of November 2014. While now, the day I got discharged from the hospital was August 31st, 2008.


    November 3rd 2005, my consciousness awoke on this Brian Morse guy. At that time Brian Morse was just released from the hospital, my consciousness disturbed the originally already chaotic mind, I was brought back to this mental health center by the local hospital.


    A bit different from the psychiatrists'' conclusion, I only took two days to reconstruct my self-awareness. I was still myself, only that I now had the memory of Brian Morse, well obviously, I also took over his body.


    My memory of the past 23 years was petty but also detailed, thanks to my strong self-perception, I was so lucky I didn''t lose myself because of the interference of Brian Morse''s memory.


    After all, turning from an Asian to a Caucasian, not to mention a redhead that only accounted for 2% of the world population, was a big shock to me. If someone looked at my medical record at the psychiatrists'', they definitely could notice that during those two days, I kept standing in front of the WC''s mirror staring at myself for no reason.


    Brian Morse, admitted to the mental health center at the age of 4. In 1994, 4-year-old Brian and his one year younger brother were discovered by the local Miami police at the murder site.


    Until the notice of the police, they had already sat in that blood pool from hell for 2 days 3 nights, while the victim was their mother. Brian and his brother witnessed how the kidnapper used an electronic chainsaw to cut their mom''s body into pieces; blood overflew, the world in front of their eyes was covered in pure red.


    Brian''s a year younger brother, Dexter, was adopted by office Harry Morgan, who also was the first one to find them. Brian, because he was at the age of being able to know and form memory, was diagnosed as antisocial and brought to the mental health center.


    Brian''s memory was carved deeply with the scene of Dexter being taken away from him. Therefore right after he was discharged from the hospital, he went looking for his brother.


    He rushed to look for his brother, only to discover that Dexter seemed to have no memory of him; his faith broke into pieces. Brian had used this firm faith of being able to see his sibling again to build his personality, therefore his mental state was damaged too.


    And so I came.


    If I was to comment, I''d say Brian was too hasty. If he had continued to investigate, he would have seen what he wanted to see. Because of Brian''s obsession, during these 3 years, I continued his investigation on Dexter.


    Even though Dexter was adopted by Harry Morgan and brought up in a normal family, but the scene he witnessed at three was carved deeply in his memory, even though he could not completely recall it. Therefore, Dexter and Brian were so similar.


    They were both potential criminals. As people always said, a pitiful person also has a blameworthy side, a lot of criminals were once victims, because they did not get psychological treatment in time, committed crimes on other guiltless people to vent out their anger.


    Brian remembered the scene of his mother being cut into pieces, so he always had the desire to see flesh split and blood flown. Even when growing up under the psychiatrists he had learned to disguised this, such desire usually became a phantasm, existing in the memory Brian left for me.


    Dexter, despite only remembering the redness in his subconscious, he still couldn''t hold back his desire for blood, like a desire for memory. In my investigation at Dexter I discovered that his neighbor''s dogs had gone missing not just once or twice.


    I wonder if until now Dexter had committed crime on human yet? How would his adopted father, office Harry, treat his adopted son with a desire to kill people?


    I was different from Brian, I was so conscious, sickly conscious. I would not commit crime on guiltless people just because of my subconscious violent desire for blood, I could control myself very well, just as how I psychologically controlled the madman before.


    The previous me was not an antisocial personality disorder person. Therefore I had confidence that I would definitely find a way to control my new self.


    ¡­.


    The weather outside is beautiful. After getting out of the hospital I went to get my belongings, including some identity documents, two psychology books I got from my psychiatrists, some underwear and socks, all fit in a backpack. After that I bought a newspaper to find a job offer.


    The good side of being an orphan was that you had the ability to feed yourself.


    I put on the only outfit that I had except for the hospital gown, short-sleeved white shirt, tight blue jeans, black Toms shoes, simple and neat like a normal student that lived in an ivory tower.


    Basing on the job offer news, I went to the nearest coffee shop and successfully got hired. The job was easy and simple, the wage was not too bad also. Thanks to my previous hard-working life, I possessed all the necessary skills that would allow me to feed myself.


    I spent an afternoon getting used to the work, then officially started working the next day.


    Yet even with social welfare benefits together with the salary from this job, it was only enough to cover my living expenses. This amount wouldn''t be enough for me to start my study over again.


    From blue-collar worker to white-collar worker was only a word different, yet that difference lay in the degree and knowledge. If I wanted to earn money for textbooks, application fees, or even tuition fees, room and board and such, only a simple job was not enough.


    Maybe some commercial dance group would be in need of a jazz dancer?


    I had already planned my job a year ago. Coming back to the original job was the best option, even though it was tiring, but my work as a jazz dancer that only begun from interest still brought me higher wage than any other part-time job.


    For that I put myself in a lot of training during the days. Yet even if I brought back all the body muscle I used to have, considering Brian''s delicate body and his innocent harmless face, I was still in a dilemma.


    From Brian''s perspective, his exquisite, elegant face along with the curly hair and the perfect smile were his best camouflage.


    But from my perspective, using that appearance to find a job in a commercial dance group was extremely hard. From Brian''s normal aura, nobody would feel that he knew how to dance. Not to mention that he had such childlike appearance. I bet the dance group owners would all considered him as a beginner in dance.


    From Brian''s body I couldn''t find the manliness that I once used to fool a lot of people. Even my usual dance style was completely changed to match the impression Brian''s appearance gave other people.


    If my style was dangerous and sexy, my dance moves were fast and arousing, then after I became Brian my development only had one direction: sinful pleasure. On the originally strong an unstoppable movement of jazz dance, I developed it into a more feminine style, gentle yet provocative.


    Harmless angelic face along with provocative dance style would cause the audience a feeling of guilty, yet this guilty feeling would lead them to an uncontrollable addiction. I could only use the truth to prove my ability to the dance group manager.


    8pm, the sky had darkened, the coffee shop had closed. I headed to a famous Miami bar. Job offers page only posted normal career, and jobs like the commercial dance group rarely advertised openly; rather, they only waited for people to discover themselves.


    Ignoring the stares of people, I walked into a pretty crowded bar; based on my knowledge about commercial dance group, except accepting some offers to be dance partners for celebrities, they usually joined many dance competition to boost up reputation. They liked to hand out flyers in wine bars, finding audience for their performances.


    The dance group I aimed at at the moment had no intention of taking new people in. Even so, I did not want to give up on this chance. Among the reputable dance groups of this city that I had looked into, this dance group seemed to have the most potentials.


    Even if they did not plan to hire people, or should I say, did not plan to hire random people and only took in someone they knew, I believed I could find a shortcut to get in.


    My eyes searched through the people in the bar, followed the glance of some ladies, I saw two dancers ferociously competed against each other on the dance floor.


    A pretty matured-looking man was giving out flyers for the audience. Under the dim light I could see some blurred words printed there, Chippendales ¨C professional dance group, my aim.


    I would not out of the blue join the dance performance that was clearly made to advocate the advertisement - that would look more like provoking. I was only looking at the man giving out the flyers from afar.


    At the time, he was handing the flyers to two girls.


    These two girls were rather shy facing men, it was easy to analyze their thoughts. It was the first time they came to a place like this, hoping to be approached yet at the same time when a sexy, dangerous man did come, they were afraid. The strange environment made it even harder for them to accept this kind of promotion.


    I put on my typical harmless smile and walked towards the two girls and the man.


    "I¡­We¡­ We still have friends waiting for us, so¡­ we cannot go..." I heard one girl muttered a rejection.


    "Hi, ladies. If you guys have friends, why don''t you ask them to go along with you? Don''t worry, Chippendales dance group has been dance partners for many superstars, this is a really professional group." Under the man''s surprising eyes, I walked ahead, talking to the girls as if we were friends.


    For this kind of girls, being demanding would just make them tensed, but I chose to tell them how good this dance competition would be, how legal, professional and safe this dance group was, because the two of them actually was attracted to the maturity and manliness of the guy in front of them.


    The man shot me a thoughtful look, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but ended up keeping silent. I knew he wanted to see how the situation went.


    I still kept my harmless smile and took some flyers from his hands: "You two take these flyers first. On such a fun holiday, don''t you have any plans? You could go discuss with your friends to see if they want to see this or not. How does this sound?"


    The two girls glanced at each other, blushing, accepted the flyers from my hand. "We have nine people¡­ We should go tell them first.." ¨C they said, then hurried away like lost sheep running into a wolf pack.


    The man''s eyes set on me: "Pretty good, under this situation making them take the flyers was a half-way success."


    ¡­.


    Mike and I stood at a street corner, looking at the group of people longer than 10m. There were men and women, all had neat make-up, standing outside the pub that had a line of Chippendales'' flyers, looking even more eye-catching under the colorful light.


    Mike was the man handing out flyers earlier. I bet god finally felt guilty, as this Mike Vincent guy was not any normal dancer of Chippendales. Mike was the senior of the dance group, a golden signboard.


    Hooked a big fish.


    "Brian, I don''t know if you just have a momentary curiosity with this job as a dancer, or just want to find a place to spend your overflowing energy on. But I want to inform you, this job is not as easy as it looks. I agreed to bring you in and let you join the competition, but if you make me lose my face I will kick your ass." Mike said, half jokingly.


    "Of course, I even rely on this job to feed myself." I laughed, "I think you guys are also concerned that in the group there are only female jazz dancers but no male right."


    Mike smiled while looking at me: "You got it right. Seems like you are very confident in your ability huh."


    I just laughed without response.


    This was not a blind guess. When I confirmed Chippendales as my target, I also did a research on the dancers in the group. For a commercial dance group like Chippendales, the most popular and practical was hip-hop dance, which dancers were mostly males. For jazz dance, their group only had female dancers.


    Therefore when they received request from female singers wanting to find male dance partner, they could only awkwardly let their hip-hop dancer, whose style was totally not match with the female jazz dancers, join.


    Originally I only planned to make friends with a dancer handing flyers of Chippendales, then step by step instructing him to recommend me to the group''s owner, thus getting the job chance. But now, if I could show off my overwhelming ability in this competition, that would be the most convincing recommendation.

 CH 2

    CHAPTER 2: My days with Mike and the commercial dance group


    -oOo-


    The clock on the car displayed 9:30. A black jeep entered an empty neighborhood and parked in front of a wall that was filled with ugly graffiti. Behind the wall was a rowdy crowd holding a boisterous gathering.


    Mike turned off the car engine, took the handcuffs at the backseat and hung them on his belt, grabbed the police baton, fixed his cap, then pulled the door open and jumped out.


    "Tap tap tap" ¨C the sound of baton hitting against the door did not bring any attention; the rowdy crowd inside did not stop their activities; they were busy skating or smoking, ignoring the well-dressed Mike in his police uniform.


    I stepped out from the crowd; after getting away from all the human shadows and smoky air, my terrified face appeared under the light.


    "Hey kid, someone has reported that you guys are disturbing the neighborhood here," said Mike with a cold expression, tapping the baton on his palm.


    "What?¡­But¡­.There are basically no residents around this area! You must get it wrong!" ¨C I was pushed back a few steps by him, anxiously trying to explain.


    Mike seemed to be a rather cold-hearted person, he pushed through me, pulled the door open and walked inside right away: "I don''t care if I got it wrong or not. My job is to clear this mess."


    My face sank as I followed him inside. The people inside looked like the sea being divided into two by Mike, separating to two groups.


    ¡ª


    "Aaaahhh!" Along with the high-pitched scream of the audience, my face suddenly appeared on the big screen on the stage. I displayed a smile that totally did not match with my "good student" look when opening the door earlier. Followed by the sound of the door being shut, the video officially ended, the lights on the stages were lit again.


    Under the lights I slowly walked out from the left-sided backstage, smile on face, hands in jeans pockets. Mike was swinging his police baton, also walking out from the right-sided backstage, facing me.


    This was a performance with a storyline, which also was my suggestion to the group''s manager. A few years later this type of performance would become mundane, but at the time it was still considered creative and unique. To attract the interest of audience who had no understanding about dance, plainly having the skills was not enough.


    Violent neighborhood''s fights was a flexible topic; after being arranged into the storyline it successfully increased the tension of the dance. I followed the male dancers appeared in the video, together with everyone standing straightly in the middle of the stage.


    I gave the schoolgirls standing closest to me a mischievous smile, and while their faces were turning red with excitement, I hopped onto the stage making a provoking gesture at Mike.


    The second I raised my hand, a ferocious melody broke the silence on the originally quiet stage; the opening sound was like a signal.


    I shook my hip rhythmically in front of Mike; at the same time he had put his baton aside, in the fixed gazes of the audience, starting to show off his dance skills. After a short section in the song, he made an angry look and headed towards me, pulling my arm. We made an advanced move in the air together then made the scene looked like I was thrown down away on the floor.


    I turned my body around, grabbed the baton Mike put on the floor; my body made a curvy shape as I moved.


    The audience was cheering wholeheartedly, I walked towards Mike as we changed our positions. The baton was sucked in my mouth; I zipped down my jacket, showing of my pale skin under the cloth. You got it right, I did not wear any t-shirt under the jacket.


    To increase my seductiveness from my just-like-a-good-student appearance, also to not be downplayed when comparing with Mike in his eye-catching police uniform, I took off my jacket to show off the lovely curves and muscle of my upper half body.


    Together with the tight jeans, under the stage light, my pale skin became dazzling. Following the tempo of the song, I threw my jacket down on the floor.


    Even though in the Middle Age, because of religious myths like "people who crawled up from Hell had red hair because of the hell fire", redhead were usually ostracized or tortured till death, in this age there were always some people infatuated with their pale skill and ginger hair that almost looked like a flame under the light.


    Mike and I, according to the rehearsal arrangement, would take turn showing off our dance skills. As the golden signboard of the dance group, there was almost no type of dance Mike didn''t know. This opening performance for the competition, 2 years from now, also would become our signature performance in any competition.


    As the 10-minute opening performance was drawing to the end, after Mike''s one movement, I took a few steps back, acting like being defeated, fell down on the floor. After that Mike made the same movements with some other male dancers that had been standing around, throwing all of them onto the floor.


    Finally Mike walked towards me, arrogantly looking down from above, his military boot stepped on my hand that was trying to grab the baton. He slowly pulled me up, locking my hands behind my back. Then he took down the handcuffs hanging on his belt and dragged me out.


    "Mike Mike Mike !" ¨C as the music faded away, the audience stopped holding their breath and screamed out together.


    "Brian! Brian! You are the best!" ¨C our names were continously screammed. Next would be some other performances by other dancers.


    In the high-pitched shrieks of the girls and exciting atmosphere that stirred up the whole club, the competition officially begun.


    ¡­


    After two hours working, I was soaked in my sweats. Luckily, after getting out the pub the cool air at night helped me relaxed more.


    Mike was holding a black leather case that kept his performing outfits; I also took my clothes from him.


    "The manager said he would increase your wage, did you know that?" ¨C Mike looked displeased; he opened the car''s back door and threw the black case in, then slammed it hard and got back to the driving seat.


    I shrugged unconcernedly, putting my clothes in the trunk then climbed to the back seat.


    "Even when that''s the case, I don''t plan to change my decision. Didn''t he know that I''m leaving for university? I thought you''ve told him." I took off the tight jeans that were covered in dust from rolling on the stage, then stripped down the underwear that had been making me uncomfortable because it was wet from sweats.


    Mike''s stare on the rearview mirror met my eyes; he shamelessly smiled at me.


    It has been two years since I first joined the Chippendales dance group, starting from the time Mike brought me to the competition. The lord of fate finally was nice to me for once; meeting Mike and got directly admitted to the group saved me a lot of time. I originally expected that process would take longer.


    That one time Mike made me his dance partner, persuading the manager to let me try one time on the stage. I agreed without hesitance, showing off all the skills I had learned for years.


    Finally, my ability along with the recommendations moved the group''s manager. Mike, as my partner, started to get me used to the work.


    I was a good intern ¨C since Mike didn''t have anything to teach me, in the end, we became friends. Mike could be considered as my very first friend since I became Brian Morse.


    Mike had been in the Chippendales group for 5 years. The weird thing was no matter how hard I tried, I couldn''t get any information from him or even from other people about his life before that 5 years. It almost like he suddenly appeared from air.


    He could easily catch women''s soft spot, obviously I meant in a sexual way, he seemed to only interest in matured women. Talking to him would always involve talking about women. We never mentioned our past, maintaining a good but not too deep relationship that matched just what I wanted in friends.


    "Mike", I put on the shirt and my comfy cotton pants while talking, "I have planned to mention my resignation with the manager, then officially leave the job a week later."


    Mike had finished changing his clothes long before; he started the car engine, his hand was moving half way then stopped because of my words. He was silent for a while then said: "Isn''t it still a month before school starts? You know Palo Alto near San Francisco has a lot of commercial dance groups. If you need, I know a pretty good group manager over there¡­"


    I wiped the sweats on my forehead away and waved my hand to signal a refusal: "It''s fine, I''ve been thinking of other ways to earn money. It''s hard to arrange my personal time working in dance group, especially this year as the group grows and expands. We often have to work over time because of the clients'' requests. Even though the paycheck for each performance was pretty good, but my savings in the past 2 years was quite enough, for the mean time I won''t need to work so many hours in my freshman year."


    Mike looked at me from the rearview mirror; it seemed like some thoughts flashed through in his eyes, yet it was too fast I couldn''t catch it.


    Actually I had no complains about my current job, I also did not resign because I got to university. If I planned to continue my path as a dancer, Mike''s offer was obviously good. But I had my own reason, resigning for school was a reasonable excuse that nobody could object.


    Everything was in my plan.


    My unfinished academic path in the previous life that always made me regretted, I now successfully, through self-learning and knowledge from before, got admitted to the reputable Psychology department of Stanford University.


    I also successfully kept my savings. My bank account balance, together with my scholarship, could cover the fees for my first two years in university.


    Investigation on Dexter could also be considered going well.


    Even though this was a bit over of my controlling, but Brian''s insistence on his brother Dexter left me no choice but giving more effort on this matter.


    Dexter''s cage in his heart was still too weak. Because of his adopted mom''s death, he couldn''t control the bloodthirsty monster in him. The first time he committed a crime was a revenge for his adopted mom.


    As expected, his loving adopted father, also because of other personal reasons, didn''t delate him. He even taught Dexter how to cover his trace and tamper the evidence.


    Officer Harry was an experienced police; under his guidance, Dexter learned how to destroy the evidence and blend in the crowd.


    Even though I didn''t support giving up on Dexter''s mental treatment, but I also knew that his abnormality wasn''t something officer Harry could treat. The real key was in Brian''s hand.


    Therefore I can only blame myself for not knowing my stuffs well enough. At the moment even my mental state was a chaos, how could I go help Dexter. Furthermore, I was selfishly afraid, afraid that contacting with Dexter would make Brian''s personality broke through my control.


    The only thing that consoled me a bit, in the end was Harry''s existence. Harry imposed rules on Dexter, putting another layer of chains in Dexter''s heart, allowing him to push the monster under his control temporarily for now. So until Harry''s death I would not have to worry too much about this.


    It was quiet in the car. I stopped my flow of thoughts, looking out from the window. "Are you driving to my house?" I asked in surprise, realizing that this road wasn''t the way to the practice room of the dance group.


    "Yeah, it''s too late now, I should take you home first and return those outfits tomorrow." Mike stared at the road, replied.

 CH 3

    The other reason I was talking about was actually very simple, it was America''s Next Top Model. Male models would be allowed to compete this year. (1)


    This was a reality talent-show and the final award of the program was also very alluring. The winner would sign a contract with the model company that sponsored the show, get the chance to get on the cover on a famous fashion magazine and get an advertising contract with a luxury brand.


    Regardless of whether if I could win the championship by competing this time, it was only the first step in my trilogy. I could start to gain publicity.


    In this competition, what matters to me is not whether I can win the championship on the program, but whether I can win the people''s support on the program. After all, this is an era of looking at faces. No reality show can attract fans more easily than a beauty show like this, which accounts for more than half of model talent competitions.


    The goal is to get into the entertainment industry, but not take a career that was too binding like an actor or a singer. Reality show star was the most suitable career direction I came up with after two years of research.


    With the attention of the public, the urgency of worrying that I will be considered an outlier will make it easier for me to adjust and clear my psychological state. The shackles formed through external factors had the same effect as Officer Harry¡¯s presence had been for Dexter. I don¡¯t have a strong and responsible adoptive father, so I created an external factor.


    And if you want to hide your true self. Approachable people integrated into the community? In fact, this is only the most commonplace approach and it is also the most easily exposed method after an incident occurs. In the profile analysis of criminal psychology, no matter how well you normally hide in the crowd, under the psychoanalysis of the profiler, you will show your true colors.


    So my purpose is not to hide, but to create a character. When I participate in reality shows, I create a deeply influential image in people''s hearts. After people can think of an image as soon as my name is mentioned, who can still easily chisel through the thick shell and see me who is within several layers of nesting dolls?


    "You''re going to take part in the auditions for America''s Next Top Model??!¡± when Mike heard the news I told him, for the first time, he showed obvious surprise. He obviously couldn''t understand why I, who was so private, suddenly chose to participate in a reality show that could expose all my information.


    I nodded, poured cold milk into two cups of brewed tea, and then put one cup of tea on the table in front of Mike. "Yes, America¡¯s Next Top Model began to allow male models to compete this year. It has a lot of hype and the reward is great. I just want to give it a try before I torment myself in college. What, you don''t have faith in me?"


    Mike lifted the tea, took a sip of it, and almost got burned. "No, of course, I have full confidence in you." He smiled insincerely, ¡°It''s just that I didn''t expect you would want to participate in this kind of program¡­After all, you always seem to have no interest in what young people like."


    Actually, I had the idea of participating in reality shows for a long time. I just didn''t expect that I would apply for America¡¯s Next Top Model first. Originally, I preferred social games like Big Brother and Survivor. After all, only social games will truly let me train my psychological control, whether it¡¯s towards others or myself.


    What''s more, reality shows will expose the contestants'' private lives. Compared to using singing and acting to enter the spotlight, reality shows take me less time and get more attention. And I want to use this attention to monitor and control my behavior from the perspective of a third party. Because even if I stepped out of the mental health center, I was still afraid and worried about the impact of Brian''s personality on me.


    Of course, I will not tell anyone what my real intention is.


    ¡°In the past, I just didn''t have time and energy. I sent a video that I recorded a month ago to participate in the initial preselection and then received a selection notice two weeks ago. Tomorrow''s flight is to New York. I expect that they will select 35 participants, and then they will cut it in half when the first episode is officially filmed.¡± I picked up the teacup with both hands and laughed towards Mike.


    Mike stared at the cup of tea silently and said after a while: ¡°No wonder you didn''t say a word about resigning. There¡¯s still a month before college starts.¡°


    "I''ll have a day off after I get to New York tomorrow. The day after tomorrow is the audition, and then I¡¯ll wait for the notice in New York for a week. Wish me luck, hope that I won¡¯t be eliminated before official filming starts.¡± I said as I drank a sip of tea.


    ¡­¡­


    I pulled out and wore the simplest white T-shirt from my small suitcase. The legs of my straight jeans were rolled up to my lower legs to keep it away from my ankle-high Martens boots. I went to the mirror and flipped my hair. My ginger curly hair seemed to emit tangerine light in the sunlight reflected from the window.


    As if everything was ready, I stuffed some change and credit cards into my pants pocket, held my cell phone in my hand, picked up a book that I had read halfway from my suitcase, opened the door of the hotel room, and walked out.


    Although I was often called a little old man by Mike, I still prefer to read psychological books that he thinks are abstract and obscure to pass the time. I heard that there are more than a thousand people at the New York auditions, it¡¯s always good to bring something to pass the time.


    After taking a taxi for more than ten minutes, I arrived at the audition site, a spacious studio. At this time, the studio was cleared of all stage sets and cameras. There were only rows of chairs for the models to wait in line. After receiving my number, I found a place where there was no one according to my wishes, sat down, and opened the book in my hands.


    There was still half an hour before the official start time, but almost everyone had arrived. At a glance, most of the male candidates tended to be gender-neutral, which made some of the more masculine boys get special attention. The female models only looked at each other, their looks provocative and guarded at the same time.


    There was no discrimination, it can be said that homosexuals are also the majority of the audience for America¡¯s Next Top Model. However, for the fashion world that respects female models, only male models full of masculinity can set off women''s sexiness, gentleness, and beauty even more. At this time, these excited boys will probably be disappointed and go home.


    Rob Evans is a model judge in America¡¯s Next Top Model in addition to top model Tyra. (3) Naturally, he is the representative of male models. Like Tyra, Rob is also a black supermodel. Although he has a dark complexion, he has a deep and angular face because of his mother''s Caucasian blood.


    I already thought it was unexpected that Rob, as the judge for male models, appeared in the first America¡¯s Next Top Model in which there were male models. Unexpectedly, Tyra, the pillar of America¡¯s Next Top Model, and Johnny, the creative director and outdoor host, also appeared on the scene after Rob. (4)


    The staff began to direct the models to walk down the runway in groups according to the number they got. The models who passed took another number plate and went aside to wait for another screening. The models who were rejected face to face left with pale faces.


    I waited for almost another hour before the number plate in my possession was called. It seemed that I came late. In my group, there was one male model and two female models, which looked very balanced. When the number was first called, they had long been standing in a circle, watching in the crowd and jumped out excitedly as soon as they heard their number.


    I kneaded my eyebrows, stood up, closed my book, put it on the chair, and walked around the crowd to where the camera lens was facing. ¡°Excuse me, excuse me." I raised my smile and squeezed out of the crowd.


    Every time I move under the camera is a test, I calculated my every move accurately as if I was standing on the stage. I stepped out of the crowd that had separated, dully maintaining a smile amidst the excited looks on the faces of the three models.


    "Brian Morse?¡± Johnny took the last piece of information from a staff member and called my name.


    "Yes, sir." The congestion of the crowd let the curls on my forehead cover my brows. I answered Johnny while raising my right hand to comb my hair behind my forehead, letting it slide behind my ears.


    Johnny and Tyra looked at each other and smiled when they saw me. It was as if I didn¡¯t pay attention to their interaction and I only walked up to the three models. I could feel the sudden tension around me, and the focus of the camera panned across the four of us standing side by side.


    When the camera panned across the male model beside me, I pretended to casually raise my eyes which were originally looking at the ground in front of me and looked straight into the camera lens. The camera froze for a second, and I moved my eyes away and put away my smile.


    "You can start." Rob raised his hand and spoke.


    The crowd quieted down. The male model beside me obviously wanted to step in front of me, but he didn''t know that I was looking at his elbow out of my peripheral vision the whole time. When his elbow moved slightly, I took a step out almost at the same time as him. My pace was calm and powerful, but he looked like he was starting fast because he wanted to take the first step.


    My Martens boots lengthened the whole line of my body, and there were clear and audible footsteps on the ground. My eyes tightly held on to Rob''s gaze. After his eyes moved away, I turned my gaze to Tyra.


    With the proximity, what could have been an eye-level gaze had to become looking down because Tyra and Rob were seated in the judges¡¯ panel. I averted my gaze before Tyra. I had an inconspicuous smile on my lips and I began to look behind the judges¡¯ panel.


    I wasn''t as insistent on catching the judges¡¯ eyes with my gaze as the male model beside me. I just raised my jawbone with a faintly discernible smile, I knew that too far is as bad as not enough.


    Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Johnny¡¯s gaze on me the whole time, and I knew that in the judges¡¯ panel, I had caught at least one judge who would speak up for me.


    The models who got to the end had to stand in poses. I didn¡¯t forcefully get into an awkward pose. I just stood casually. There was no deviation from the smile on my lips.


    ¡°Ok, thank you," Tyra said. She looked over the information on the table and put down her pen. Rob also turned his head and talked with her quietly for a moment. Johnny seemed to have no objection to their choice.


    Then Tyra looked up again. "Alice Ann, Brian Morse, please step aside to receive your second selection number plates.¡± (5)


    I moved my feet and looked at Johnny¡¯s side with a smile from Rob¡¯s side of the judges¡¯ panel, just to make sure they saw the smile on my face. Then I swept past the seemingly disheartened male model beside me and walked to the female model named Alice.


    Alice''s modeling stride was very powerful and standard, and her facial features were the most standard Germanic facial features which were marked by her blond hair. There was no way she wouldn''t make it into one of those 35 selected people.


    I greeted her, and the two of us walked to the staff member holding the number plates, side by side. We took the number plates. She was going to be a strong opponent, I have a very strong intuition. Alice obviously had a lot of modeling experience, and I guessed she''ll be very skilled at hard poses. With her face, I''m sure she''s done a lot of print media work.


    But she also had the biggest weakness of a model. My smile remained unchanged. I looked at Alice''s subconscious low gaze as she took over the number plate. She was very nervous about looking at people face to face. She was not confident enough.


    She rarely looked at the male models around her. I guessed she had been hurt by her ex-boyfriend or ex-husband before. Looking at her hands firmly clasped between her legs, her left hand kept stroking the base of her right ring finger. Perhaps she had removed her ring recently and just got divorced after long hesitation.


    Although I don''t know why she got married at such a young age, maybe it was because her popularity in school caused her to have a dependence on men. After entering society, she subconsciously wanted to tie herself with her boyfriend. But it was obvious that the person she had liked had hit her hard.


    Oh, I suddenly looked away. It seemed impolite to casually give a mental profile of someone I was about to spend a month with.


    The second selection required models to walk the runway in underwear only and take side, front, and full-body photos. The underwear I was wearing was the same white skintight type as before, not an over the top white brief, but the short type that wrapped around the top of my thighs. I was skilled at knowing what kind of pants would display my leg shape better.


    Unlike most Caucasians, my body hair seems to be relatively sparse, saving me the trouble of shaving. And for photoshoots that record personal information, because striptease training took place for me in a dance studio with four surrounding mirrors day after day, I''m skilled at grasping the angles of my body.


    In front of the camera, although it is a frontal photo, the angle of the jaw height can determine the feeling of the whole picture. The side photo was the same distance away. Maybe just the angle deviation of a single degree could take you from a mediocre photo of your ID to a work of art. It was also a familiar skill to me on how to show the curves and skin texture of my body and find the light and shadow when doing full-body photos.


    The second selection show was a one-man show. Repeatedly, Tyra would ask some personal questions at the end of the show. Alice¡¯s number was very close to mine, and her answer confirmed my guess about her ex-husband.


    Regarding Tyra¡¯s question, ¡°Why do you want to be on America''s Next Top Model?¡±, most of the models responded with standard answers like modeling is their dream. But I knew that the essence of America¡¯s Next Top Model is a variety show.


    There were currently three cameras filming, at each major angle. If it''s just for recording, you don''t need so many cameras, so I know that the recording of the program has already started. On how to make sure that your share won¡¯t be cut off in these many scenes, besides walking the runway, there is also your story.


    Yes, the sympathetic and melodramatic story that had happened to a handsome young boy, is there any other stunt that could grab more attention in this season''s competition between the male and female models?


    "Brian, why do you want to be on America¡¯s Next Top Model?¡± Tyra asked the same question after I walked the runway.


    T/N:


    1. The Chinese was È«ÃÀ³¬Ä£´óÈü which refers to the show, America¡¯s Next Top Model. https://baike.google.com/item/%E5%85%A8%E7%BE%8E%E8%B6%85%E6%A8%A1%E5%A4%A7%E8%B5%9B


    2. Pictures of Rob Evans¡¯s mother: https://www.instagram.com/p/CBswDm-h8jO/


    3. The author uses Ì©ÀÕ which is directly translated to Taylor. I think it should be referring to Tyra Banks.


    4. The Chinese was ÇÇÄÉÉ­ which is directly translated to Jonathan. I highly suspect the author was referring to Johnny Wujek, but I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯ll just translate it as Johnny. (This website includes the judges and other staff members: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/America''s_Next_Top_Model)


    5. °®ÀöË¿°² was translated as Alice Ann in the text.

 CH 4

    "Brian, why do you want to be on America¡¯s Next Top Model?¡± Tyra asked the same question after I walked the runway.


    When Tyra asked this question, my eyes were empty for a moment, and then I made my smile disappear perfectly. "For life, ma''am. When I was four years old, my mother was the victim of a vicious case, and my younger brother and I witnessed it. My mother was my only relative. Because of the mental stimulation I received back then, I was sent to a mental health center. Since then, I have lost news of my brother who was only three years old back then¡­¡±


    I didn''t try to hide my personal information because it was not difficult to find out my past. On the contrary, my extremely tragic story will certainly bring a sensational effect after it is broadcast. The best thing is, it is all true.


    "I''d like to know if he''s ok...But I''m afraid he''ll remember what happened back then¡­¡± I frowned and looked worried, "so I''m just saying it here that I¡¯m only doing it to fulfill an obsession of mine.¡°


    I knew that the story worked after I saw Tyra gasp and put her hand over her mouth, and the originally piercing eyes of the other waiting models in the room began to waver.


    The story would not only impress the audience, but it would also have a profound effect on the judges. It would also help the other models who were competitors to reduce their hostility towards me. After all, a gentle boy who always has a smile on his face doesn¡¯t seem to be difficult to get along with, right? Even if I looked like a formidable opponent, there was no need to target me.


    I know all the models have to live under the same roof for nearly a month after the semi-finals of America¡¯s Next Top Model begins. And the cameras will also film an episode on the life of the models in the villa. For me to continue the attitude of standing aloof from worldly affairs and not seem cowardly, I need to make my roommates leave me out of the war before it begins.


    "Of course, that''s what my psychiatrist told me. After years of information, I don''t remember much of the scene back then. But after the therapy ended, I was over the age of adoption.¡± My stance was very relaxed, my hands were folded between my legs, and I looked directly at the floor in front of the judges'' table. "After I was 18, I needed a job to support myself. And my mother left me this."


    I raised my finger and pointed to my face. I raised my face slightly to let the shadow on my face go away and gave a simple smile. Some witty jokes broke the original heaviness and made my optimism seem even more apparent. Repeating a tragic story over and over may make people have a deep impression of the story but at the same time, you will be labeled as that story.


    To take advantage of a story, rather than just being remembered for one story, you also need to show your personality when it''s right. It''s useless to only emphasize how strong you are and how you walked out of the shadow. It''s not as impressive as a well-timed joke. After all, in addition to looking at faces, men with a sense of humor are popular these days, aren''t they?


    Tyra originally had tears in her eyes. After hearing this, her tears turned into laughter. Rob and Johnny also took a deep breath and relaxed their shoulders. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see the models waiting at the side of the room, looking at me with gentle eyes.


    "After I became independent, I worked several jobs every day and spent two years studying on my own. This year, I was finally admitted to the psychology department of Stanford University." I added an inspirational story when my tragic story came to an abrupt end. "I was really excited when I got the notice. But I know that my savings are not enough to cover my college tuition for several years. School starts in a month, so I want to try to fight for this opportunity in the last month.¡±


    At the end of the story, a few seconds of narration will make people wish it to continue. The inspirational story seemed to impress the judges and the waiting models began to whisper. Obviously, the models with high education were rare, let alone students from world-famous universities.


    I could feel that two cameras were focused on me and one camera was aimed at the judges'' panel. My eyes began to redden and fell right into the close range of a camera. It is my eternal task to have a smile with tears and move people¡¯s hearts.


    After the audition, I was certain I would be in the top thirty-five semifinalists. Because as I was about to leave, Johnny specifically came to me and let me do an interview alone.


    It was the kind of interview where the person spoke while facing the camera in a quiet background. This method of personal narration will also be used repeatedly in subsequent shoots. After all, apart from the models¡¯ shooting process of still photos and the challenge competitions, the shooting focus of America¡¯s Next Top Model is filming the details of life and personal narrations in the models¡¯ villa.


    Each contestant''s personality will be reflected in their narration. The contestants will be asked to state their evaluation of some conflicts in the villa, their feelings of a still photo shooting, etc. This was one of my main focuses, as each personal narrative was a small test. The content is very important in terms of how to make the audience remember what you said in a short minute or even a few seconds.


    At the end of the personal interviews, although the uniform reply to the models was to go home and wait for a notice after a week, I knew that several models had been selected secretly and had been notified in advance, and I was lucky enough to be in the ranks.


    Because I stayed at a hotel, I didn¡¯t go home. The so-called models who received a personal notice call from Tyra, I tactfully declined to have a surprised response. To achieve their so-called surprised response, the photographer will ask you to excitedly jump and scream in front of the camera. Flashy acting is not suitable for the character I want to create.


    "Hi, Mike." I walked out of the film studio and called Mike.


    "The audition is over? How do you feel?" Mike''s voice was somewhat distorted in the noisy streets of New York.


    "Not bad. I already finished and came out.¡° I carried my half-read book in the crook of my arm. I held a phone in my hand as I walked to the nearest fast-food restaurant. "They told me to go back and wait for a notice after a week. In reality, several pre-determined models had been informed in advance, and fortunately, I was among them.¡°


    "Haha, then I''ll be waiting for your photo online." I had a strange feeling that Mike didn''t want to talk more on the phone right now just like back when I said the audition was in New York.


    "Then you''ll have to get me more votes.¡± I laughed and joked, ¡°Don''t forget, if I live in that villa, I have to be isolated from the world. Phone calls are limited to a few minutes a week, remember to have your cell phone on you!¡±


    New York is a modern metropolis, but it¡¯s not as antique as I like it to be. So the first stop of my 7-day tour of New York was to New York Times Square. It¡¯s the favorite location among tourists.


    At dusk, Times Square already had beautiful night scenery. All the screens and neon lights on the high-rise buildings were flashing. I held a mocha bought from a roadside coffee shop in my hands, looking at the busy street.


    "If you want to walk around and shop, that building over there is a shopping mall.¡± I met a female student in the coffee shop. She blushed, pointing to the building to introduce it.


    I put up a proper smile and said, ¡°Thank you very much. I''ll go take a look at it myself. If you need to go to class, don''t worry about me."


    "Yes¡­Of course..." The female student nervously pushed the glasses on her face and said, ¡°Then¡­Then I''ll leave first! Goodbye, Mr. Brian¡­" Her face flashed with death, and she lowered her head and ran away in a panic in the eyes of passers-by. Not far away were two friends who were excitedly waiting for her.


    Before I became Brian, even though I was able to make women scream during stage performances, I was just an unremarkable Asian student in my daily life. But Brian''s charm knew no bounds, whether it''s profane sex appeal in jazz dance or being bright as a flame underneath the sun.


    I walked through the bustling crowd into the mall. Wandering in the shopping mall, I finally chose a book bar with a function of a coffee shop and went in. I planned to spend the afternoon here. The book bar was very quiet. There were many students and office workers that had just gotten off work seated in it. I scanned rows and rows of bookshelves to find a book to read.


    Criminology?


    Oh, this word has been constantly following me ever since I became Brian. But according to my unfortunate younger brother''s situation, maybe I would need to understand this kind of knowledge in the future? Dexter had the careful guidance of his adoptive father Harry, but I didn''t know anything about systematic criminology except that I had previously studied criminal psychology on my own and studied it a little.


    I found a corner seat to sit down. This should be an unremarkable corner where I could clearly see the whole book bar, but wouldn¡¯t be noticed. But strangely, after I sat down, several girls around me frequently looked in this direction and whispered to each other.


    I didn¡¯t think that I caused it. Even if Brian looked even more remarkable, he won''t randomly attract such massive attention. I turned my face and looked to my left. Oh, it seems that I had found the source. No wonder there were so many women sitting around this unremarkable corner.


    It was a handsome man, I should say that he was too perfect. I unobtrusively sized up this man who was like a peacock that spread his tail to display his charm under the gazes of the men and women around him.


    A few strands of his not-too-long, not-too-short black hair fell on his forehead, while the rest was combed back in an orderly fashion. The thing that made him out of place in this warm and idyllic little book bar was his expensive and decent suit that had no wrinkles as if he was a dandy of a prestigious family.


    However, his indescribably refined facial features and careless smile made people''s first impression of him be of a yuppie and a rich family¡¯s son. He could easily socialize with women, his biggest weakness was also women.


    I was surprised to find that I could not profile his mentality and past from his behavior and appearance. This man must be a master of deception.


    My examination also attracted his attention. He glanced up and down at me as if he were examining something, and then he noticed the book on criminology that I had put on the table. If I didn¡¯t guess wrong, his purpose of coming here wasn¡¯t to pass the time like me. But it''s none of my business.


    At this time, a middle-aged man wearing the same working clothes as the other staff in the book bar came over with a cup of coffee and a pot of black tea in his hands. The black tea and a small teacup were placed in front of me, and the black coffee was placed in front of the man.


    "Anssi¡¯s painting, The Whistleblower, was stolen by Gerald Brown in 1993. It was two weeks before the owner of the oil painting found that it had been stolen because Brown exchanged the original with a very fine reproduction.¡± The man who attracted the eyes of all the women around him suddenly opened his mouth to speak when the black coffee was just placed in front of him. (1)


    Oh, was I so lucky that I could see a big show?


    The man put down his old newspaper, which was dated 1993. The headline of the first page was about the aforementioned crime of art theft and counterfeiting. I propped my chin in my hand, bored. I squinted at the picture of the priceless art piece in the newspaper he put on the table. This store had a good collection.


    Then I glanced down and saw an ankle monitor on the man''s left ankle. Ah, it''s really a big show!


    A person with an ankle monitor on his foot, you could guess what happened just by using your brain. He was either a potential criminal under surveillance or a criminal caught by the FBI to be specially commandeered as an FBI special advisor because of his superb professional strength.


    So, the peacock, who sends out hormones anytime and anywhere, should be a swindler and thief with great mastery in counterfeiting? It''s really pitiful. Being caught by a police cat, he had to sell his labor to catch mice of their kind to be free.


    Spacing out, I couldn''t help laughing silently. This made the peacock next to me give me a sidelong glance.


    When he saw me, he only looked curious. He turned to continue looking at the stiff middle-aged man who had just put down his coffee and said, "Brown avoided all the alarms by dropping onto the roof of Sabid Castle from the sky. Some people call it a perfect crime."


    Perfect crime? There is no so-called perfect in this world because as long as it is done by people, there will always be mistakes due to people''s negligence. Even if it was a small mistake...Sure enough, the peacock spoke again soon after.


    "But I don''t think that can be considered perfect, Brown." He stood up and put his hand on the motionless man''s shoulder. "You misjudged the landing site. As far as I know, you landed on the tiles and slipped, but you grabbed the railing on the top of the castle and saved your life. That¡¯s really lackluster.¡±


    The man who I gave the code name of Peacock, under the eyes of all the surrounding people, his expression naturally showed a smirk and spread his hands. Unfortunately, because I was sitting too close to him, people saw me from the periphery of their eyes. From this angle, I could even clearly see the curious look in the eyes of those people.


    ¡°Sorry about disturbing you because of personal reasons, customers.¡± The middle-aged man called Brown came to his senses and squinted at Peacock. I noticed that at the moment when this man came to his senses, his right hand beside his body played a subtle rhythm on his thigh bit by bit with his fingers. Although his expression did not change a bit, I still noticed his subtle move.


    He''s sending Morse code! To whom?


    Translator¡¯s Note:


    1. I believe that this painting is fictional.

 CH 5

    "Mr. Neil Caffrey, what brings you here?" The man called Brown quickly adjusted his expression. He was excited and happy and seemed to want to stall for time.


    But to my surprise, the peacock beside me was a really famous person. And I had heard of his name long ago. Four years ago, when I was in a mental health center, I read in the newspaper that the famous swindler, Neil Caffrey, was arrested.


    Neil Caffrey enjoyed being on the cusp of victory and said happily: ¡°I just heard that you seem to have started to research art again recently. Everyone has the same interests.¡±


    Just then, I glanced around and found a strange-looking female clerk standing at the cash register. Her slightly leaning forward body revealed her uneasy mood, similar to several men and women standing outside the store who were all wearing suits and leather shoes. They moved their bodies to pay attention to the situation here, restless.


    "Oh, don''t say that. How can my taste compare with you? If it was you..." Brown exaggeratedly waved his hand in shame, then pretended to suddenly think of something and changed the topic, ¡°Do you think we''re disturbing the customers¡¯ peace and quiet here? If you have something to say, you might as well say it somewhere else.¡±


    Neil Caffrey was silent for a few seconds and didn¡¯t respond, then he said without expression: "Brown, the FBI suspects that you have something to do with a recent art theft. I hope you can come back with us and help investigate."


    I raised my eyebrows and looked at the restless men and women in suits who were originally standing outside the store that strode in. It seemed that I guessed right. They were FBI agents.


    "You''re just paranoid, Mr. Caffrey." To their surprise, Brown did not struggle the slightest and had no desire to escape. He only raised his hands and calmly spoke.


    Oh, no wonder he looked so calm. I looked at the female clerk behind the cash register. After the group of people who looked like FBI agents entered the store, she quietly walked out of the store from a spot out of their vision without attracting attention.


    The new generation of forgers and technical art masters have a wonderful artistic foundation¡­I recalled the description that I had seen before about Neil Caffrey. I turned my head to look at the man beside me who was well-dressed, I couldn¡¯t help holding my forehead. When all is said and done, why did I want to study his deception style seriously¡­


    Such a high-profile and boastful deception, but so careless. I''ve already thought about how Peacock can narcissistically cheat others'' trust and disguise his identity when he really spreads his tail. His excessive self-concern and self-confidence make it easy for him to let go of important clues due to carelessness when he is helping the FBI conduct a crime investigation.


    The commotion, caused by the FBI arresting Brown, was just like the noise from a food market. During the commotion, I stood up and went to the cash register where the woman was just now. I completed the checkout procedures by myself for the books that I had originally wanted to read here.


    Then I saw the name of the cashier in the register book. It was also the name of the woman who secretly slipped away, Nora Brown. She had the same last name as the arrested Mr. Brown.


    The FBI agent escorting Brown left quickly, so I turned to look at the unhurried and reluctant-to-follow Neil Caffrey, who was preparing to leave. ¡°You¡¯re not paying for your coffee, sir?¡±


    It was also fun to let Neil Caffrey, who hated to pay with his own money and had been getting everything he wanted with his clever words, pay for coffee here. It was a reward for providing information to the FBI, it was comedic material that would make me happy for a week.


    My words made Neil Caffrey walk over with an unhappy face. He fished out some change and went up to me and looked into the cashier¡¯s desk. Then he asked, ¡°Where''s the clerk?¡±


    "Maybe the commotion just now scared her away?" I blinked at him. "I don''t know why she looked so hurried, that¡­Miss Nora Brown?"


    Originally, Neil Caffrey¡¯s expression was only impatient. When he heard the name that I mentioned at the end of my sentence, Neil Caffrey''s eyes widened and he turned to look at me. "Who are you?! How do you know this name?" He stepped back, on guard.


    "I''m just a book bar customer who was disturbed by your loud and big movements.¡± I laughed innocently, ¡°When I came to borrow books, I saw that the clerk was not here, and I went through the checkout procedures by myself. You can see her name on the register directory.¡±


    Neil Caffrey froze, then promptly went to the register directory to check the validity of what I said. Then he frowned and took out his cell phone to make a phone call. "All our guesses were wrong! Nora Brown wasn¡¯t separated from him. She was in the book bar five minutes ago.¡±


    When Neil Caffrey was urgently talking to the man on the phone, I turned and walked out of the book bar. When I passed Neil, I deliberately whispered in his ear and laughed softly, ¡°Never regard yourself as the smartest person in the room. Beware of suffering a major setback due to carelessness¡­¡±


    Although Neil Caffrey''s deception style is not suitable for my personality, his swindling techniques and language arts were very important knowledge for me to disguise as a normal person in the crowd or to escape by concealing my identity one day after I really commit a crime.


    If I could draw his attention, it is estimated that it can be used as a hidden investment to connect with him when I run into him in the future. As long as I can learn a skill or two from him, I also gain benefits.


    Neil Caffrey watched me leave anxiously, trying to stop me with his shouting several times. I just turned around to him with a smile and turned back quickly without hesitation, departing. After all, I didn¡¯t know who the cat was that could catch such a naughty mouse, and even trained a cunning fox into a beagle. This was not what the ordinary FBI could do.


    I don''t want to face the FBI too soon, be investigated, and be treated as a potential criminal for being psychologically unstable.


    A week passed quickly, and not surprisingly I received an official notice that I got into the semi-finals. I also learned about the final outcome of the original and the reproduction from newspapers. The New York Times reported on the follow-up of the Ramsey Gallery theft case, the FBI finally solved that Brown with a criminal record and his daughter committed the crime.


    I packed my luggage, picked up my leather suitcase, and got on the plane which the show reimbursed me for the airfare. The audition for America¡¯s Next Top Model was in New York, but the official shooting was actually conducted in Los Angeles.


    At the Los Angeles International Airport meeting point, the large bus seemed to be filled with only male models. Hormonal young men were shouting in front of the camera about where the girls were. It seemed that only when we arrived at the official fashion show site could we see the female models.


    All the people on the bus began to introduce each other. The extroverted boys fired up the atmosphere. I sat in the back of the bus and watched the atmosphere polarize. The extroverted boys gathered in the front seats with cameras, while introverts sat in the back seats with smiles and watched them make a scene.


    Everyone''s personality and appearance were very unique. I looked at everyone and determined their personalities in my heart. A male model next to me said, "Hi, I''m Ashton. You''re Brian, right?¡­ I remember you, Stanford psychology student!"


    I''m not surprised that he avoided the first half of my story. I remember this model Ashton, one of those models waiting in the sidelines back then, listened to my whole story in the room.


    "Hello, Ashton." I grinned and held out my hand to shake his, "I remember you. You were there back then.¡±


    Ashton has short black docile curls, it could be seen that he was a mixed person, being part black and part Caucasian. It¡¯s just that his skin was like a white person¡¯s, his silhouette was like a black person¡¯s. His blue eyes gave people a kind of exotic mien and unique temperament. He looked confident and outgoing.


    It¡¯s just that his weakness is that he is too feminine, which is very fatal when shooting still photos with female models. He is a homosexual, which can be clearly seen in his behavior and actions.


    "Wow, you got into Stanford? That¡¯s amazing." Another boy sitting in front also turned to talk. "Unlike me, I¡¯m no good at studying! Hi, I¡¯m Marvin.¡± He held out his hand to Ashton and me.


    Marvin has layered black hair and looks like he is of mixed blood. His Hispanic genes were dominant. He seemed to be a mixed person with Latino blood, but he was fair-skinned. Marvin''s cheekbones are very high and the silhouette is very deep. The appearance gives people a sense of high fashion. With a little sculpting, one could imagine that he would be a photographer''s liked type.


    Marvin didn''t like to talk at first, but after getting familiar with him, you will feel comfortable chatting with him. He must have many siblings. You can imagine that if he lives in a big house, he will be the leader of the men''s and children''s gang. During the conversation, he always mentioned the excitement of seeing a female model soon. The introverted hormonal animal, in abbreviation, is outwardly cold but passionate inside. He should be able to show strong lethality when he needs to take photos.


    However, he also has a weakness, even if his facial features will be very outstanding in still photos, but when facing a fashion show, his temperament will be weakened, unable to give people a breathtaking feeling. Without fame, it may be hard for him to get a fashion show job from a designer.


    Many people will think that models give very rigid impressions, thinking they¡¯re only living racks that display clothes. But in reality, it¡¯s just a misconception because most famous models are quiet during work.


    The energy used at work is focused on modeling and how to present the product, this is the ability to pay attention to detail. For male models, I can practically predict that only the introverted boys sitting at the back are most likely to get to the end of the show.


    Because most girls innately pay attention to details, but most boys are energetic. If they can''t focus on their work and can''t calm down while shooting, this will be the most disadvantageous factor for them.


    Before I could pull the brownish-blond haired boy into our conversation, the bus had already arrived. The boy was sitting in the far corner and kept wanting to chime in to join the conversation, but he could only smile awkwardly.


    This was an antique grand theater in downtown Los Angeles. I just hurriedly exchanged names with the brownish-blond haired boy and got off the bus.


    The boy''s name is Chris. His standard Germanic appearance, long and narrow cheeks, and upturned eyes made him look very cold and roguish when he wasn¡¯t smiling. In the second selection, he also told a story of his own, but compared with my story which was so dramatic that it was like a reprint of Les Mis¨¦rables, his story only caused the audience to sigh.


    He was a child of a single-parent family. His mother obviously had an unexpected pregnancy and gave birth to him, and she was not a competent mother. She did her duty to raise him and abandoned him on his eighteenth birthday. She went far away and disappeared without a trace. Since then, Chris had several experiences roaming about the streets.


    One could imagine his former rouge friends scattering from the scene when he was in real trouble. The awkwardness of his interactions with people presented his delicate and taut character in front of me. If he got into conflict with people at the villa, it could influence his photo shoots.


    As I finished a profile analysis of a new competitor, we followed the crowd into the theater backstage. Rows of dressing tables and clothes hanging in rows indicated that today''s task would be a fashion show. I look at the masks placed on each dressing table, the fashion show might even be masquerade themed.

 CH 6

    Seeing this novel hasn''t been updated in ages, and I wanted to read it real bad, I delved into the cursed realm of MTL. While I was at it, I thought why not post it to make everyone suffer with me? So, here you have it, MTLed "Psychological Control", enjoy~ (To be real tho, DeepL is a legit good translation site, saying it to those poor souls who still use google translation)


    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    "Greetings, boys!"


    While the crowd was at loss for words at the scene before them, Jonathan walked in with a make-up artist and stylist in tow. "Welcome to the semi-finals of America''s Next Top Model, are you guys excited?"


    As the cameras started rolling, the boys began to get restless. Not leaving them in the dark for long, Johnny announced today''s challenge which, as I expected, was a masquerade themed runway show. It would be the first face-to-face between male and female models.


    "This will be a dramatic, dark and sexy couture lingerie show. You will be partnered with a female model and, after walking to the end, you will kiss your partner." Jonathan looked at the dozen or so male models surrounding him.


    "The jury on stage will evaluate your performance today and it''ll determine whether you advance to the next round or not. Everyone can be eliminated and so try extra hard to look good at your first photo shoot the end of the catwalk." The sudden news of the photo shoot caused the crowd to break into whispers and discuss.


    Jonathan left after the announcement and several cameras continued filming the male models as they began to take turns in getting their makeup and hair done.


    The hairdresser straightened and waxed my curly hair at the back of my head so that my face was highlighted without the hair on the sides of my ears and forehead.


    The make-up artist highlighted my cheekbones and the bridge of my nose, and every guy wore eyeliner and even some smoky make-up, so I changed my usual demeanour when the make-up artist used eyeliner to draw the corners of my eyes in an upward curve. Or maybe converted to a nightclub state.


    I looked at myself reflected in the mirror, even for strip shows I usually only focus on the costume look, I had never seen Brian''s body painted with such heavy make-up, at this point I looked at Brian and thought I had seen a live fox all the time.


    It reflected in the orange light as a fiery red hair colour, like the fur of a fire fox. Matching the pale complexion, I picked up the mask on the dressing table and set it on my face, curling the corners of my mouth.


    As the MC called the curtain, the models came out in a line and took up positions on either side of the stage. The male models were facing the female models, who were also wearing masks, and the MC began to announce that the male and female models would take turns to stand out and choose their partners.


    It seemed that because I had come out at the back of the room, I had to choose my partner after the second pair of models had finished. I immediately saw Alice, who I remembered from the female models, and who was in the same review group as me.


    I walked up and chose her.


    Alice herself was tall, so in her heels she was already at my height. She and I had similar stride lengths and we walked side by side down the long catwalk, with the main event at the end. I was the first to find the camera lens facing us.


    As arranged, we needed to take off our masks in turn. Unlike Alice, who was trying to overpower me with her wildness, who was quick to rip off her mask, I took it off with no slow grace by undoing the ribbon at the back of my head, using the most common eye toss of a Peking Opera flower girl in the moment of revealing my eyes, which would present a moment of amazement under that subtle eyelid movement.


    I didn''t budge an inch in her face, reaching out with an arm that wasn''t facing the camera and wrapping it around Alice''s waist, I forced my eyes on her until she lowered her eyes out of habit and avoided my gaze.


    As the interview went on, it was like a big social gathering backstage. A small circle clearly formed around Alice and me, boys attracted by Alice''s looks, girls curious about my experiences.


    The most persistent of Alice''s suitors, who didn''t go anywhere near Alice, was a Christian boy, Jamie, who was predictably still a virgin. He is shy and smiles like an angel, but his muscular body gives him a little more manliness. A cross between pure and sexy, he may not go all the way as far as I can see, but he could certainly go a long way here with his temperament.


    Although Jamie kept trying to make conversation with Alice, Alice, who has long been familiar with boys like this, clearly didn''t care, she just chatted with the girls. It was clear that she would only focus on the game and nothing else during this match. The only boy who could talk to Alice was me.


    "So you and Alice were in the same group in the re-election? Cool!" Jamie turned to talk to me, "If I remember correctly, you were partners at the lingerie show as well."


    "Yes," I was originally just sitting next to Alice reading a book, and not wanting to seem out of place after Jamie addressed me, I spoke up in response, "The only one of the female models I was familiar with was Alice, so I chose her."


    "Oh, Brian. I wish it wasn''t me you knew so well." Alice interjected as well when she heard us talking, and she chuckled to herself, "I can''t believe I was overwhelmed by your swagger at the end, I can''t believe you''d normally be a nerd."


    Mike revealed in the chat that he had been discovered by Taylor in the ice cream van and so came to enter this time in America''s Next Top Model. He didn''t have much experience in modelling, so he curiously opened up and asked me about my skills.


    "Not much of a technique," I said with a smile as I looked at an equally curious Alice, "the reason I''ve taken the initiative has to do with what I''ve done in the past."


    "I would work a few odd jobs throughout the day, but the most lucrative one was part-time dancer." I said to Nina''s half-open surprise, "George Robles Dance Company takes on the role of jazz dancer, so I have plenty of stage experience and don''t get too nervous."


    "Really?" Ashton, the first mixed-race African-American boy I spoke to on the bus at the airport, said excitedly, "Oh, I''ve always wanted to see a George Robles dance show live! I just never got the chance!"


    I watched Ashton''s reaction with amusement; he was clearly a party animal. Chris, who had been rather withdrawn, also looked over curiously.


    "Brian, let''s have one live!"


    Ashton''s suggestion got the circle going, drawing in Marvin who had been hanging out with a group of boys and going around hooking up with the female models. They were up in arms and beating the beat.


    I knew that to stand out in front of the camera lens I needed to be out of place with the people around me and show a different tension than usual in the hard shots.


    But being too much of a lonely nerd wasn''t to America''s liking either, and I needed to get my future housemates to find a topic of conversation that I could relate to. The background label of jazz dancer should be just right to hit their high points.


    I didn''t push back, I just put the book down on my lap and stood up. Then I reached out and hooked my fingers for the camera and, to the roar of the crowd, pushed my hair back in my head and started to dance. Hot dancing is never the point of igniting the atmosphere, and the crowd was in high spirits as I did a close dance to Ashton, who had suggested it.


    I stopped dancing after Ashton turned red through the ears and began to coax everyone to join in the raucous dance fest. I didn''t want to be the only one showing off my skills, it was too easy to attract jealousy.


    The waiting time slipped by unnoticed amidst the buzz of the mingling party. When it was my turn to audition, as my story had impressed Taylor and Rob so much, my main aim this time was to impress Norma, who was mean but determined to help you a lot afterwards. Norma doesn''t recognise horseshit, only strength.


    She was clearly smiling when my hard pictures were shown on the big screen in the studio. I was a little surprised that the picture chosen was not the final movement of me holding Alice, but the moment I took off my mask. Because my pace was half a beat slower than Alice''s, Alice could only gaze at me as I unlocked my mask.


    My mask was on Alice''s side as if in denial, but my eyes were rakishly seductive as they faced the camera. It was hard to imagine that a hard photo taken during a catwalk could reflect the emotion of the show.


    Taylor complimented my eyes, while Rob praised my naturalness and confidence on stage, and the slight angle I leaned forward to the camera at the end, creating an oppressive pose.


    Norma smiled at the end and said, "Your photo is as impressive as your personal experience, which is hard to forget. If this photo reflects your true strengths, I''m sure you can go far."


    After the morning auditions, the models boarded the bus and began their journey towards this season''s All-American Supermodel villa. Looking around at the relaxed models, I knew the day wasn''t going to end that easily.


    A villa, no matter how big, squeezing in 35 people was refusing to be possible. Past semi-finals have ended up with no more than 20 contestants. The half that would still be left after this evening would be the ones who actually made it to the official semi-finals.


    "Gentlemen and ladies! Welcome to this season''s Supermodel House!" Andy, the head of social media, who manages the hard photo voting for the models, took over the hosting duties as the models got off the bus.

 CH 7

    "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to this season''s Supermodel House!"


    I stood in the crowd looking at the large, beautiful house as Andy ran the show. "The judges are excited to meet each and every one of you, but now they''ve made their choices."


    The boys and girls who had been excited began to whisper as Andy said that the first round of eliminations would soon take place. Andy continued under the commotion, "Keeping with the theme of the masked ball, there is a wall of masks behind me. If you see your own face there, you''ve made it. If you don''t see your face there, unfortunately, you''ll have to pack your bags and go home."


    Alice, standing next to me, her eyes wandered, clearly not too confident in herself. Jamie seized this opportunity a stood by her side to reassure. Ashton was very excited, having been the only male model to choose a male model of the same sex as his partner in the lingerie show, and he was cheering each other on with his then partner.


    Marvin, like Alice, was excellent in every way, but always lacked confidence when it mattered. He was frowning and whispering to his newly formed band of brothers.


    Chris, on the other hand, stood next to me and opened his mouth to whisper to me, "I''m worried about my situation, you know, I''ve never been in the modelling business." Seemingly because of his experience of having no family like him, he liked to stick to my side.


    "I haven''t quite shown myself..." said Chris, having a bit of an anxiety attack, his hand resting on his mouth as he nibbled on his nails.


    I sighed darkly, for the extra babysitting job I would have later. I pulled his hand down to his mouth and reassured him, "Don''t worry Chris, you''re sure you''ll get going too, aren''t you?"


    As Andy shouted ''Ready, set, run!'' The group raced up to the photo wall. I took Chris'' shoulder and walked slowly up the steps.


    Everyone anxiously searched the wall for their faces, those who found them gave a cheer and pulled off their masks to exit the crowd, those who didn''t squeezed back to continue their search.


    The first thing Chris didn''t see was the mask with his picture on it, while I saw myself hanging on the wall, looking ginger and red in the spotlight. Chris wept and bade me goodbye as I squeezed forward to remove my own mask.


    After the sad news was announced Andy was content to take the 10 who had been eliminated and leave, while a few cameras followed the remaining 26 into the supermodel house to film the models reflecting on their stay.


    The supermodel house had a large picture of Taylor with various motivational messages written on it, and the bedrooms had similarly various slogans written on each wall. Of course the boys'' bedroom is separate from the girls'' bedroom and there are only 16 beds.


    Because of my unhurried pace, the eight beds in the boys'' bedroom were not for me, and Chris, who was following me, was out of luck. Ashton was one of the first men to follow the female models into the supermodel house, so he grabbed a bed. The rest of the beds were taken by Marvin and his company of brothers.


    I didn''t really care about any of this, after all it was just one night and I was sure I just wouldn''t fold at the semi-finals.


    After the cameras followed the models through the house, including the various exercise equipment, the small spa, the spacious pool and even the mini catwalk located in the living room, Tyler and Rob appeared in front of the excited crowd.


    The two judges would split the male and female models into two groups, with Taylor giving the female models advice on the shoot and Rob giving the male models advice.


    What I wanted to do was to overpower the female model in all the group shots, just as I did with Alice in yesterday''s runway show. To be able to make men look at that picture and envy and want to be you, and women look at that picture and be smitten and want to be with you.


    That was the point Rob made in that conversation. The reason Rob has become a famous supermodel and is making more money than even many top female models can be seen in the advice he gives. At least he captures the psychology of the audience.


    Although the night would see a challenge, the supermodel house was treated to a romp after Tyler and Rob left. Chris'' childish approach to attracting attention still got him into trouble, as he went around attacking Marvin and his gang of brothers with his boxing gloves, and after a good scolding, returned to my side in disgrace.


    And while I just sat in the kitchen with Nina and made a glass of juice and chatted, Chris finally stopped being awkwardly trying to be a million bucks and childishly cried and admitted to us with that cold face that he didn''t really fit in.


    Ashton, on the other hand, had a crush on one of the transgender models in the pile, not that kind of crush of course, Ashton just still wasn''t comfortable with being around guys, especially straight guys, so he took the transgender model called Vicky and a few girls out to the back garden to chat.


    Jamie was still Alice''s little sidekick following her around, and because of the uproar from the crowd, Alice was beginning to hate Jamie''s tailing. Chased away by Alice, Jamie looked around the living room and then there was another Christian sheep in my little circle.


    As the sun went down in the west, the models were about to get on the bus and head off to the site of yet another challenge. I was relieved to have finally stopped this mind-numbing mingling session.


    I knew I was a loner, perhaps the same as Chris, and even if I had the appearance of being a millionaire, I would never be one in a face-to-face situation. The only difference between me and Chris is that I am more tactful in my communication than he is.

 CH 8

    After the hard photo shoot, everyone went back to the supermodel house for the night. The next day would be when the results were announced, and from my perch on one of the long sofas in the living room I could hear those around me who had also failed to get a bed tossing and turning, thinking that even the sixteen people who slept in the comfortable beds would lose sleep.


    Tomorrow''s elimination would determine whether they would remain in the tournament, and it would be seen as a great irony if those who slept in their beds now were eliminated.


    Chris''s gaze reflected in the moonlight coming through the glass doors in the living room like a wolf in the forest, and I locked eyes with him before falling into a deep sleep as he stared at me.


    The next morning the models woke up to be informed that there would be another runway show tonight and that this one would be a challenge. America''s Next Top Model is eliminated based on three things, the judges'' assessment of the hard photos, the score of the challenge and the social media vote.


    As the results were announced in the evening, there was a stifling pressure in the Supermodel House all day. I nestled on the sofa looking at the new book I had bought before entering the Supermodel House.


    "High-IQ Crime?" Chris broke twice as much coffee over from the kitchen and placed a cup on the coffee table in front of me. "You read all sorts of weird books, there were psychology related books I saw in your luggage yesterday, what was the major you enrolled in at Stanford?"


    I put the book down and took a sip of the coffee he had brought and said, "Psychology department, I thought you knew that. I minored in criminal psychology and went to a criminology course at Eastside University while I was in New York waiting for my re-election results and suddenly got interested and bought the book."


    Chris blinked his eyes in bewilderment, even though he had this expression sharp eyebrows and deep contours that made him look like a bad boy with a fierce look.


    Just as Chris and I were talking about his wanderings, Jamie, who was disliked by Alice, came over and joined us. Nina, trying to fit in with the circle of female models, was by now chatting to the girls in the garden.


    The sun was starting to set in the west again as I put together the book that featured the most stunning criminal of the twentieth century to see where Neil Caffrey appeared. Maybe I should find the nearest bookshop and buy another book this time when I go downtown again. I''ll have to buy a thicker one this time, otherwise I''ll have finished half of it by the end of the day with nothing to do.


    It''s been two years since I''ve had such a leisurely and comfortable day since I got out of the mental institution that held Brian for over ten years. It was even a bit uncomfortable for a while as I was busy at various part-time workplaces every day.


    The models screamed and cheered with excitement at the first sentence, only to fall silent instantly at the second. The pressure was on the heads of the crowd.


    "As if that wasn''t scary enough," Taylor smiled as she turned and held out her hand, "the president of Guess will be watching the show himself." With that a slightly short, middle-aged man stepped out from backstage.


    He didn''t look too impressive, but his worth could be seen in the price of the clothes he was wearing. He followed Taylor''s words with an opening statement, but I noticed that when he gave examples of Guess models, all he mentioned were female models. I knew that if nothing else, the supermodel competition would still be won by a female model.


    I was a little upset to realise this, but even if I couldn''t do anything to change the status quo, I wouldn''t let it stop me from taking on the challenge. The prize included a contract with Guess, and I was not surprised that Guess had to see the models in person.


    "Gianna." The girl had never had much of a presence, but she had a different look from the usual narrow face of a female model, her jawbone was wide being a square cheek, which made her very unique in hard photos.


    "Marvin." Marvin was as popular as ever and most of his brother company still gave him cheers despite the pressure still being on.


    "Cheryl." Another black female, differing from Rena in that her features were more tense than Rena''s small and delicate ones.


    Chris was the most promising male model of the rest as far as I could see, and his story had been particularly well documented by the cameras, and with so much effort spent on him, I couldn''t believe that All-American Supermodel would give up on him so quickly.


    "Konani." I can say that Konani is my favourite looker among female models, she has Cuban heritage and will always present an elegant air in hard photos. The only question was whether she could manage an airy style other than that.


    After a few seconds of final silence, "Chris." That was the end of the eight male and eight female places in the promotion.


    Chris'' eyes grew instantly at the sound of his name, and I even had the illusion that his pupils tightened for a moment as he dropped his hand from his mouth and walked slowly over to me with his hands over his face. I had to take the mentally stimulated coyote''s head in my arms and rub his back to calm him down.


    Only two of Marvin''s company of brothers had entered, Dan and Phil, so the atmosphere was a little awkward and when Chris'' name was called. Marvin walked up to say goodbye to his friend who had fallen through the cracks. Chris was clearly in a secret mood, although his face was cold, his upturned mouth and arched eyebrows could still be seen through the slits in his fingers covering his face.


    At some point Chris had turned against Marvin, who was somewhat involved with me, so whenever Marvin was around me, he would follow me around for a moment. Even if the starting point was different, I still thought I saw another Jamie.


    Childish possessiveness. Childish but understandable, the only person he could talk to in the supermodel house, apart from Nina, a good girl with a gentle personality, was me, and I was still the guy who wouldn''t cause a crowd to rise.


    After the promotion slots were announced, and without giving the crowd time to catch their breath, Tyler followed up with an announcement of what the challenge would entail.


    "The end of the catwalk is at my feet," Taylor gestured to the carpet with the Guess logo at her feet, "but it starts..." and Taylor turned her hand up to point to the top of the dozen-storey building with the The Guess logo banner articulated all the way to the top of that building.


    The girls screamed, and the otherwise calm boys shouted when they saw the demonstrator walking down face down, ninety degrees perpendicular to the wall.


    Chris''s mouth grew in surprise as he watched the demonstration. I had never done anything like this before either, and now I could only hope that when I was dropped like bait on the pressure and walked down, I wouldn''t move too stiffly.


    Nina was the first to respond by asking a question that concerned the female models, "Are we going to walk down in high heels?"


    Looking into the praying eyes of all the girls, Taylor still didn''t hesitate to say, "Yes, the female models need to wear high heels."


    It seems that the girls have added a level of difficulty to themselves as they have taken over the fashion world. High heels, make-up and long hair, whereas the boys never had to concern themselves with that.


    In the dressing room, the make-up artists put light make-up on the models, each with a bed of Guess'' latest season outfit and a denim jacket over it. As it was starting to drizzle outside, we were asked to take off our jackets after we walked from the roof to the ground and then finally show our outfits on the catwalk on the flat ground.


    Unfortunately, Nina and I were drawn into the first group. The rain had turned into a downpour, the temperature was dropping fast and my arms and legs were starting to stiffen. As I stepped up to the top of the building, the audience downstairs with their transparent umbrellas looked like neatly arranged glass bottles from this height.


    The judges were split into two groups, Taylor, Norma and Jonathan were in front of a monitor on the roof watching a vertical shot of the catwalk, which would show the models walking down the vertical walls at a reverse angle to the ground, as if it were a normal catwalk. The other group, Rob and Andy, were on the ground with the President of Guess watching the overall effect from a normal perspective.


    Nina and I stepped up to the edge of the roof when the crew told me that the safety line had been tied. When you''re standing in that position, even if your told it was safe, looking at the vertical height still gives the illusion that one step out is an abyss.


    I poked half of my feet over the edge and started to lean slowly at a vertical angle, just as I heard a scream from Nina on my left.

 CH 9

    She seemed to have fallen backwards, the narrow edge of the roof combined with the slippery rain made it more than twice as difficult with her high heels.


    I didn''t restrict myself to a normal walking position in order to maintain my balance, knowing that a compulsory leaning of my hands against the side of my legs would only make for a stiff and unorthodox stride.


    But as I faced parallel to the ground, without a second to spare I slowly stretched my arms and took my first steps with my legs straightened out on the wall.


    With my denim coat and my hair wet from the rain and hanging down from gravity, I knew the image on the monitor might not look so good, but all I could do was try to keep my posture balanced and keep my feet on the ''ground'' one step at a time.


    As I focused my mind was empty, the cheers of the crowd and the rain that filled my ears faded away, only the crew member on the ground waiting to catch me and the camera beside him were in my sight. Nina had been left far behind by the speed at which I was walking, and was still dangling in mid-air when I was still a few metres from the ground.


    I know she lost her balance several times in quick succession, and the thirteen centimetre heels were like walking a canoe on stilts on her feet. To be honest, I don''t think such a challenge is designed to be any more ornamental, but whether the show is designed to howl or to supposedly test the model''s mettle is none of my business.


    Upon landing, there were three screens in front of them blocking the view of the audience, where the stylists were allowed to adjust the models'' hair again and remove their soaked denim jackets to reveal the outfits that needed to be shown inside. Nina''s few mistakes added to the breathing time for me.


    Nina was one of the only female models I interacted with during my interactions at the Supermodel House. But even so, I don''t let the performance of anyone around me, even Chris, who I already know well, affect my work.


    Once Nina had also stumbled down to the ground and taken off the safety harness in her denim jacket to get ready, with the staff directing us, Nina and I lifted the curtain and walked around the screen in front of us onto the formal catwalk.


    In fact, walking as a male model is not too different from walking as long as you don''t sway too much, hold your head up and show confidence when walking, look straight ahead and then walk in a straight line as fast as you can, that''s all you need. The point is confidence.


    Nina looks slender but is very strong inside, and a few slips in mid-air didn''t throw her off her game on the runway. But even so, her modelling stride was lacking in poise because she was too thin.


    It was pouring rain, but the wind that came with it really helped. The wind blew the ends of both our hair and our coats, and Nina''s unsteady pace made her look wobbly.


    The second group was Alice and Chris, whom both Nina and I knew well. Chris''s was too stiff in the suspension, lifting his hands too high for balance, his eyes listless and clearly a bit out of play. Alice, on the other hand, was as strong as ever, and although she also lost out in the suspension on her heels, when she landed on the ground to actually walk, the strong wind that accompanied the downpour blew her hair with aplomb.


    Group 4, Dan & Cheryl. Dan''s mid-air walk was practically bent into a bow because of his fear of heights, and he looked a little weird leaning back too far. Cheryl even screamed out of fear. The performance of this group looked poor.


    They were followed by Mike and Alyssa in group five, Jamie and Rena in group six... After the two groups that failed to perform, Jamie and Rena finally ignited the interest of the audience.


    Rena, who has competed in beauty pageants, surprisingly took more impressive steps in the suspension than Ashton, ethereal with the determination of each step taken. I could see Alice looking at this group with a very cold, hard expression. Because they are both female models, she and Rena are bound to be arch rivals.


    Jamie''s performance could only be described as normal, but he didn''t let Rena, who was much smaller than him, steal his thunder.


    The seventh and final group, Marvin and Bianca. Bianca gave up trying to walk as soon as she was suspended in the middle of the building because she slipped several times and started to let herself pose as the rope lowered her. This little cleverness was the opposite of cleverness.


    It was a challenge and the challenge wasn''t about how good you were at walking on a flat surface, it was to see if you could overcome your fears in the middle of the suspension and try as hard as you could to show your confidence.


    His modeling stride, while not spectacular, was not a lost cause, and his performance in the challenge added greatly to his score.


    At the end of the challenge, the models were gathered together to face the four judges to await the scoring of the challenge and to choose a best performer.


    This best performer would receive a prize, a key to the Taylor Suite. The winner of the Taylor Suite can choose a companion to stay with them and the suite includes a King Size bed as well as a Guess cloakroom. It''ll give you a new lease of life.


    "I can''t believe you all made it! In such harsh conditions, it''s impressive," Taylor said, making another dispensable opening statement. The challenge score was one third of the criteria for grading in the next round of eliminations. To forfeit the challenge would be to declare an automatic withdrawal.


    I''ve always been a quiet person and herd animals have never been in my nature. But with Chris and Dan''s antics happening right in front of me, I couldn''t ignore them.


    I stood up and grabbed Chris''s hand with one hand and tugged him back, while the other hand made a shushing gesture over my mouth.


    After a few seconds of staring at each other, Chris managed to give in to my assertiveness and turned around to sit down.

 CH 10

    "Brian...Brian...look at me..." my head was mush and the overwhelming blood that Brian remembered seemed to reappear before my eyes, how coincidentally it was also in such a confined space.


    "It''s okay...relax...Brian! ..."


    Whose name was this voice calling? Brian? ...Who was Brian...yes, these terrible memories and desires should belong to a boy named Brian...


    Yes, the memories were Brian''s, the fantasies were Brian''s... the bloodlust was Brian, and I was me!


    My pupils focused slowly as Chris and Ashton screamed in anxiety. The scene in front of me only regained clarity.


    Chris was full of regret, while Ashton had a worried look on his face. Nina and Alice also gathered around, followed by several other female models. Dan was curled up in a car seat not far away, Phil twisting his wrist and Marvin looking at him with equal concern, Marvin turning his head every now and then to look at me with apologies in his eyes. And Jamie, the little lamb, stood with a frightened look on his face in the centre of the two sides, not knowing where to go.


    Chris cupped my cheeks in his hands and stared straight into my eyes as I eased up and reached out to push his face away from me that was leaning too close.


    "I''m not dizzy, I just had a momentary hypoglycemia from standing up too quickly." I said evasively, "I was just going to warn him, maybe I accidentally overdid it."


    Ashton was obviously quickly persuaded by the reason for this and said with righteous indignation, "It''s not your fault Brian! Dan he really should have kept his mouth shut..."


    The intention was to stop a farce, but I never thought I would end up contributing to it and bringing the fire down on myself. I shooed a somewhat curious and scared Nina away and let Alice lead the group of female models back to the front compartment, informing the bus driver to move on.


    Then raised that same harmless smile as always to try and reassure Jamie. I don''t know if it was the sixth sense of a herbivore or what, but Jamie no longer dared to relax under my smile and he sat down dryly next to Mike, not far from me.


    Chris, seeing the way I didn''t want to talk much, sat back down next to me, although he wanted to say something. Only this time it turned out to be him firmly tugging on my arm.


    The bedrooms had been redistributed, with Marvin and his two remaining brothers, Dan and Phil, sharing a room, and Mike, Jamie and Ashton uncomfortably sharing a room, leaving the room with two bunks for Chris and me.


    Unable to read, I changed into my bedtime shorts and sweatpants and folded my arms behind my head, staring at the ceiling. Chris came back from washing his face and sat across from me on his bed without saying a word.


    The two of us were silent for a while before I could only say, "Chris, don''t think about it so much. Go to sleep." With that I closed my eyes and rolled under the covers.


    It was a while before I heard a rustle in Chris''s direction and he too nestled under the covers.


    Tomorrow was Monday and shortly after the results of the challenge were announced tonight, Taylor emailed through the living room screen to announce the hard photo shoot, meaning that the models would not be given a break the day after the challenge until after the hard photo shoot, then Wednesday would be a day off and give viewers time to vote on the official website, however Wednesday night would be another elimination.


    Thursday and Friday repeat the Monday and Tuesday schedule, Saturday is the same elimination as Wednesday, Sunday is a full day off, and the cycle repeats itself over the course of a month to determine the winner. The America''s Next Top Model schedule was packed and I couldn''t allow myself to be distracted by a farce, nor did I want Chris to be distracted by worrying about me.


    So not talking about it was the best thing to do.


    Early the next morning, everyone gathered once again and waited for the bus to take us to the shoot. The mood was a bit subdued today and it seemed that most people were still reeling from the accident on the bus yesterday.


    Chris had a dark circle under his eye, but he didn''t bring up the subject of yesterday again, and we were strangers to Marvin and the three of them as the models gathered, with Jamie timidly following behind Mike. The atmosphere among the female models was fine, except for some tension between Alice and Rena.


    Eventually the bus pulled up in front of a studio and as we walked in we saw Taylor and Jonathan waiting there from a distance.


    I had to pat him on the shoulder and reassure him, "Just bear with it. If it''s really hard, how about imagining that face of his as Alice? It''ll give you a bit more motivation."


    Chris slapped my hand on his shoulder away and turned his head, and his face had started to flush all the way up to the base of his ears. I gave him a surprised look but didn''t say anything.


    Yesterday''s memory of Brian had caused a slight personality imbalance, and although I''d been able to regulate myself without further problems for a while, I''d been feeling a bit down. Once Chris was out of such an unlucky situation, it was a good way to get my mind in the right state of adjustment.


    The fetish of having to treat an unpopular dead object as a fetish was a temporary mental hypnosis I did to myself with my eyes closed while the make-up artist applied make-up to my face.


    Because you can only take good pictures when you really throw yourself into that situation. Just like an actor, an actor who fools himself performs a scene as if it were a documentary, the character will have flesh and blood.


    I know that such an actor, however, is prone to mild schizophrenia, much like my memories with Brian today, and when there is an overlap between the two, it is easy to confuse the story with reality. This is why I won''t be planning to become an actor.

 CH 11

    Jonathan''s problems with his lover could not have been my problems any more. As the innocent person involved, I wouldn''t have volunteered to help him with psychological counseling. It is true that he needs a psychiatrist.


    In fact, everyone who lives under intense work pressure needs a psychiatrist. People should understand that it is not embarrassing or difficult to receive regular counselling from a psychiatrist.


    Immediately after my shoot, there was Jamie and Alice. I don''t know if it was intentional on the part of the show, or if it was just God''s will, but Jamie was very happy with it. The theme for the two''s wedding was naked, not really naked of course, they were wearing flesh coloured intimate underwear.


    Mike and Jamie were there, excited and uproarious, when Nina, who had finished her make-up, suddenly came over the side and sat down next to me.


    "You know that Dan guy and Marvin and the others said he was going to tell the judges about you almost beating him up?" Nina said, frowning and looking indignant.


    I was a little surprised that it would be Nina who would be the one to say this to me, after all Dan and the others had deliberately discussed the stance so loudly that most of them had probably heard it. But I thought it would be Chris who would come over and complain to me first, and Nina was being overly kind. In fact, if you think about it, you''ll see how childish Dan''s tactic was.


    Since Nina had come to say this because she was worried about me, I didn''t mind being nosy and talking some more. I closed the book in my hand, smiled at Nina and said, "No, he won''t say a word to the judges."


    "Why do you say that? I just heard them discussing it over there too and it pissed me off..." grumbled Chris, who had also finished dressing by this time and came over.


    "Because he started it, didn''t he? And the judges wouldn''t have favoured him for that kind of discriminatory remark, and you guys who saw it in the car at the time wouldn''t have testified in his favour." The thought went through my head and I deliberately let it out. All at once the models sitting around us looked towards us, their faces varying.


    "What''s more, they had the ulterior motive of saying this before the hard photo shoot, just to deliberately try to put your state in jeopardy. Rather, I''m sorry for dragging you guys into this." I spread my hands and watched the thoughtful expressions appear on each model''s face as they turned away and looked in the mirror.


    Backstage while still hooked up, Alice seemed to have been out of shape for the shoot because of the shadow brought on by her former marriage. It took Jonathan a number of coaching sessions back and forth before she finally managed to bring a smile to her face.


    Backstage, Alice came up to me and sighed and chatted. She didn''t mention to me what Dan and Marvin and the others had said, being the more mentally mature person here for two, she was more concerned about how she was doing in the match.


    The models'' hard photos had already been evaluated during their meeting beforehand and their scores had already been set in their minds. So, after one group of models after another were either disappointed or delighted by the comments, it was finally my turn. Unlike the previous models who came forward in twos and threes, I stood alone because of the theme of my wedding photos.


    "Very wonderful!" That was the word Taylor said as soon as she opened her mouth.


    "Exactly," Rob interjected, "I used to have concerns when I heard your subject was a fetish. But what you''ve done in the photos is amazing. Your expression and gesture completely reflect your love for that television set."


    "From what Jonathan said, your shoot went quickly?" Taylor even opened her mouth to talk and laugh.


    I kept my smile just right and replied, "Yes, I was shocked when I found out about my subject too. So I kept mentally preparing myself for it while I was putting on my make-up. It''s so hard to imagine a television set as your lover, and thankfully the pictures didn''t come out very badly."


    Norma was quick to say, "Your photos aren''t terrible, your expressions and hand movements do a great job of interpreting the play, but I have to warn you about your posture. Your pose half-kneeling makes you take up much less space in the frame, which makes the whole picture lack tension."


    ~~~~~~~~~


    MTLer here! When I checked the raws, the 12th chapter is basically the same at first. I thought that I made a mistake and checked it twice, turns out it is still the 11th chap but has the authors'' note added to it. Don''t belittle it tho, that note is still 2k or sum words. It talks about what happened backstage before selection or sth, I still have yet to read it. What I''m trying to say is 12th chap is sth akin to an extra so don''t get surprised when it starts with the authors'' note lol.

 CH 12

    If ya didn''t read my note at the end of the 11th chap, to sum it up, this is an extra of sum sort. Enjoy?


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Author''s Note: The twentieth season of America''s Next Top Model, and the first season that allowed male and female models to compete for the title together. In the judges'' conference room after a specially filmed re-casting.


    ......


    "That''s a good group, I like these two, one male and one female just right." Taylor picked out the two photos with her delicately painted nail polish fingers.


    "Ah, I remember them. A girl who got married and divorced at nineteen and a boy who was...sort of an orphan?" Rob nodded in approval as he sat watching.


    Norma glanced over and called out the two by name, "Is that Alice and Brian Moss? Those two I approve, what about you Jonathan?"


    "Oh, I don''t have a problem with that. In fact, I particularly like Brian...he has a talking eye, and a meticulous attitude." Jonathan said with a smile, and held up the picture of the redheaded male model.


    "He also has a face that particularly suits the aesthetic of a perfectionist like you, doesn''t he?" Taylor teased at the sight. "As well as having an elegant and refined face, he and Alice do a good job of walking the stage."


    "So it''s settled then, this group takes Alice and Bryan Moss. Six more will be needed to make up the thirty-two contestants who have passed the re-election." Rob barked out a verdict.


    ......


    Behind-the-scenes interviews with the contestants.


    "I hear we have a high achiever here?" Marvin was excited in front of the camera, "Oh, I''m not exactly academic material! But in this tournament, a high achiever doesn''t always have an advantage, does he? I''ll give it my best shot!"


    ......


    After the first show in Los Angeles, the thirty-two to sixteen catwalk show hard photo shoot. Still the judges'' meeting room.


    ......


    "I have to say that out of so many groups only Alice and Brian''s group went off with a bang. The others were all too raw." Norma frowned, picking through the pile of photos.


    "We can''t be that picky, knowing that all the contestants we allow have to be new to the show who haven''t signed with a modeling agency. There are even complete amateurs in the mix." Taylor said with a laugh. "Brian did really surprise me though, he''s so unlike a newbie."


    "Maybe it has something to do with his experience working in strip clubs?" Jonathan laughed harshly, "When it comes to stage experience, there''s no model here who''s more professional than him. Apart from Mike, he''s now one of my second favourite male models."


    "It''s just a pity that his style doesn''t really suit the likes of me, because although he has a muscular body too, he looks skinny in his clothes." Rob said sadly.


    "Oh, come on Rob! It''s called looking skinny on and off, and those formal wear brands are the most ha for this one." Tyler rolled his eyes and couldn''t help but spit on Rob who looked at him like he was his brother.


    ......


    "Eh...maybe the reason is also that he doesn''t look down on me like everyone else does? My mother kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday and I became a vagrant living back and forth with friends, then until even they started making all sorts of excuses to put me off borrowing...so I could only feel the kindness of Nina and Brian among these people." There wasn''t a smile on Chris''s face as he spoke of these things, it looked heavy. It even took on a bit of resentment.


    The jury room after the sixteen-in-fourteen wedding photo-themed hard photo shoot.


    ......


    "Alice doesn''t seem to be doing as well as she used to at this hard photo shoot." Taylor shook her head and sighed, "Instead, it was Jamie beside her who did a bit better. It''s only a hard photo shoot, but unfortunately it seems that the wedding dress is still giving her a mental image."


    "I like this one of Brian the best." Jonathan said excitedly, "What you guys didn''t know because you weren''t there is that he was the one who barely needed any guidance the whole time. After the explanation at the beginning, his performance barely took me much time to get the best shot!"


    "I think he could have improved on this picture," Norma said disapprovingly, "It''s naturally perfect in terms of the subject. But from his point of view as a model, he should have shown himself as much as possible in front of the camera. But he seems to have gotten so involved that he forgot to show off his strengths. Curling up in the corner is not a pose that gets him extra points."


    "I prefer this one of Dan, his muscles and puffed up chest hold up the suit and represent gay pride." Rob still doesn''t like Bryan''s style, compared to the manly photos like Dan''s that got his vote."

 CH 13

    After last night''s elimination, there was one less person in each of the boys'' and girls'' groups. Marvin''s brother company was left with only Dan, and there was no doubt that he had chosen Dan to share the Taylor Suite with him. Dan''s complacency upset Chris for a while and he spent all night yesterday secretly complaining to me in my room.


    For some reason Chris always behaves very differently in front of me than he does in person, becoming very childish and cautious, which is inexplicably cute in a contrasting way.


    Today was another hard photo shoot and the models arrived at the location and to my surprise this time they had two more professional models working with them, the male model was naturally Rob and the female model was the most famous Victoria''s Secret model today, Alexandra.


    The theme of the hard photo shoot was light SM, in other words, a male/female relationship of conquest and subjugation in the photos.


    I was put in a group with Jamie and the two of us would be shooting with the supermodel with the powerful name of Alexandra.


    Our story was not set in stone, but I needed a different approach to create a compelling tension in the camera despite being in a vulnerable position.


    Jamie and I were alone in the waiting area while the crew tidied up the set, and for some reason he was very nervous.


    I tugged at the collar around my neck and approached him with as harmless a smile as I could muster. "Jamie, you look nervous. What are you worried about?"


    Jamie froze, obviously not expecting me to initiate a conversation with him. After all, in the supermodel house, Chris and I were forever nestled away from the crowd. Flustered, he returned, "Nothing...nothing..."


    "Are you still bothered about that argument I had with Dan?" I walked up to him a short distance away, "Or do you really think I''m as crazy as he says I am?"


    Jamie lost his composure and waved his hands back and forth as he defended anxiously, "It''s not that, it''s just..."


    "Don''t worry," I interrupted his explanation with a smile as he pondered his wording, "I just had an idea about the shoot I wanted to discuss with you."


    I patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "Alexandra''s characterisation will take the lead in the shoot. I was thinking that there needed to be some interaction between the two of us if we didn''t want the audience''s attention to be completely taken away from her."


    Jamie had been very nervous about my approach, but his attention was drawn after I raised the subject about the shoot.


    Puzzled, he repeated, "Interaction? What kind of..."


    However his voice stopped abruptly after my hand ambiguously held the left side of his neck, as if it had been strangled by invisible hands, and he seemed to lose even the sound of his breathing.


    I leaned my face over with a little vengeance so that the tip of my nose was less than a centimetre from the right earlobe of his neck and whispered, "It''s interactions like this... showing an exchange of affection between the two of us that will compete for the viewer''s attention from the woman who is dominating this. Because then it''s no longer Alexandra''s monologue in the picture."


    Jamie bounced away as if electrified when the breath I exhaled as I spoke made contact with his face. He looked away and said sharply, "Don''t you get that close! I...I don''t know what to do...aren''t we supposed to listen to the advice Jonathan and the photographer gave us during the shoot?"


    I pretended not to see his unusual reaction and stretched my hands innocently. "Jamie, you do realise that Jonathan is responsible for fourteen of us on set in a day, he''s not going to be patient enough to give each person''s character an analysis."


    I leaned over again and this time he was forced right up against the wall, his back pressed against it and unable to retreat. I put my face next to his, my hands on his head, the tip of my nose touching the tip of his nose lips only two or three centimetres apart about to fold together.


    "It doesn''t matter if you don''t know how to do it, I''ll teach you. Now do like me and breathe in." I made the motion of inhaling and in my hand Jamie''s neck could feel his aorta pulsing wildly. "Relax, you''re too tense."


    I snorted out a laugh as I saw the roots behind Jamie''s ears had turned red. Jamie lifted his right hand and tugged my wrist to pull it down, "I got it! I''ll cooperate with you during the shoot...you don''t get that close..."


    I couldn''t help but let go of my wrist as Jamie took hold of it, but when my right hand dropped my left hand was immobilised by his grip on me. I stepped back to try to get him to let go of his own accord, but he seemed to freeze in place.


    "What''s wrong? Let go, I''m not going to bully you." I yanked back on my hand and Jamie dropped it as an afterthought. It can''t be helped that a clueless little lamb always makes you want to tease.


    "What are you doing?!"


    Just as Jamie let go of my wrist, Chris'' voice suddenly sounded behind me, startling me. I turned around in a flash to see Chris standing there with a cold face and Ashton who was laughing silently with his hand over his mouth.


    The image was a little misleading. Jamie and I were wearing only a pair of black leather shorts for the shoot and a suggestive collar around our necks.


    So all I could do was look at a stinking Chris and make an innocent face, "What are you doing here? We were discussing about the shoot later." Curiously, I looked at Chris''s behaviour without a trace, he wasn''t jealous again, was he?


    Although jealousy was not unheard of in friendship, Chris was looking at me so closely that I couldn''t help but feel as if he was treating me like his girlfriend. In my opinion, it was Chris'' behaviour that was more misleading than what I was doing to Jamie.


    To be fair, the reason why I, who have never been one to interact deeply with people, had accepted Chris clinging to me day in and day out in such a short period of time was inevitably because Chris was a very sexy little man. Even if I still don''t think I''ll be able to accept further physical contact anytime soon, it''s still good for the eyes.


    Chris didn''t seem to find his actions the least bit odd as he still said in a questioning tone, "What issues can''t be discussed outside, and won''t it give people the wrong idea that you''re so close?"


    I cried and laughed at his tone of voice as if he was arresting a female fucker, I looked at Ashton and pointed at him, "You mean like Ashton misunderstood?"


    "Ahem..." gulped back a laugh as Ashton, whom I named, covered his mouth.


    "We were just instructed by the crew to come over here and wait, we''re going to officially shoot when they''re ready for the set, I was just demonstrating to Jamie that inhaling technique I told you about earlier."


    Ashton, who thought he was the only remaining gay contestant among male models, was now darting his eyes over me, an angry Chris and an embarrassed Jamie who was about to leave, as if he was finally no longer bored with being among the boys.


    I glanced amusedly at Ashton, who was beaming with gossip, and walked over and patted Chris on the shoulder, "What are you doing here looking for me when you haven''t changed yet?"


    After Jamie left, Chris, still upset but not as smelly as his expression finally was, turned and pointed to Ashton, "He''s the one who wanted to see you."


    It turned out that Ashton was teamed up with Conani this time, paired with Rob, whose small mountain of a body and perfect muscles had him very worried about this shoot, he had been told many times by the judges about his manhood and had no idea how he could improve it.


    And of the male models left today, I was the only one he could talk to. And on the last hard photo shoot, my perfect interpretation of fetishism made him think that maybe I could give him some advice on the shoot.


    I''m not really one to give advice, but when Ashton came to me, I couldn''t refuse. Otherwise, if Ashton had said this in a personal interview, I would have made a flawed impression.


    "Everyone''s different," I spoke up and explained to Ashton, "but one thing that''s important is the eyes. For example, last time Chris softened his eyes to reflect a more neutral vibe."


    Hearing me mention him as an example, Chris lifted his jaw with a little pride without a trace.


    I fingered my own eyes and said to Ashton, "Your eyes always take on a misty look when you''re in a photo, like this." I controlled my eyes by slightly knocking my eyelids together, deflating my vision.


    "If it was a woman, a look like that would look very flattering." I continued at Ashton''s perceptive expression, "But a man making a look like that wouldn''t look strong enough. In fact, you could use Chris as a reference point in your eyes, he usually looks at people like he''s glaring."


    This time Chris disliked my example so much that he held his tongue and said, "Well, you go ahead and get ready for your own shoot. Ashton and I will go back to the lounge!" Without giving Ashton a chance to speak, he shoved Ashton''s shoulder and walked out.


    I lost my smile and walked out of the small room surrounded by curtains with my arms around my chest, outside the set was almost ready and Jamie was standing alone, somewhat bemused by the camera.


    The shoot began with Jamie and I being asked to kneel on the floor, left and right, with Alexandra''s left foot on my waist in her high heels.


    The first point of the pose was to face the camera with my right hand out in front of me, pushing one half of my shoulder forward, which kept my upper body from looking too stiff, and I didn''t want my hips to be in a straight line with the camera, as this would have prevented the curve of my lower back from being reflected.


    My left leg is stretched slightly outwards so that my hips can be visibly stretched out, and my expression looks at the camera like a wildcat baring its teeth to scare off its enemies, shifting the angle of my face to the camera from side to side.


    It wasn''t until Jonathan prompted me to change my expression and movement that I propped myself up on my right elbow and lay down on my side beside Jamie, not caring about Alexandra who was forced to change her position because of the change in my posture.


    In the same way that female models like to use male models as human props during their daily shoots, during the competition the main character will be me, and the models I work with are invariably the props I use.


    I began to look into the side of Jamie''s face as far as the eye could see with seductive eyes, my body showing my neck and back cleavage in the light, and this time Alexandra had to put her heels on Jamie''s back.


    Jonathan had discovered a new story line as a result of my movements and he happily instructed Jamie to match my moves. It was then that Alexandra noticed her attention being stolen and she stopped posing casually and put in her real effort.


    Alexandra pulled up my decorative collar with one hand, while the riding crop in the other was poised to strike Jamie.


    A hard photo shoot went up in flames and finally ended with Jonathan clapping his hands.


    "Brian," Jonathan called out to me as Jamie and I were about to leave the studio, "if you have any new ideas for your character set up later, you can talk to me in advance." He came over and took me by the shoulders and leaned in to whisper in my ear.


    I thought the type Jonathan would like would be a manly, mature type like Mike? That was evident from the way Jonathan''s eyes roamed and lingered on Mike at the opening of every hard photo shoot. But what was going on now.


    I finally understood how Jamie felt when I was treated like this, and the breath Jonathan exhaled on the side of my neck as he spoke made me stifle a goose bump. My skin fetish was even more intense in response, and in just a moment the back of my ear and my cheeks were all red on the side where Jonathan had approached.


    Yet Jonathan continued as if encouraged, "It seems to me that every man has a feline or canine in his heart, and you must be a little leopard cat. Good job on that expression!"


    Said Jonathan and learnt to do it again. To be fair, Jonathan was over thirty years old, but had kept his body and skin in good shape. But he still made me feel incredibly awkward acting like that.


    I waved a fake smile around him, my feet picking up speed unnoticed as I made my way to the studio door.


    When I reached the door I inserted a quick goodbye in the gap between his thoughts on the subject. "Thank you for the compliment, Mr Jonathan. I''ll be sure to live up to your expectations next!"


    The standard subordinate reply, just short of saying that everything comes at the head''s direction.

 CH 14

    Friday. Today was not a challenge, but a hair makeover for the models that happens every season. The models have the choice of whether or not to receive the makeover, but they are not informed of what the makeover entails until they choose.


    In previous seasons, there have never been many images of female models crying out in pain after their hair has been cut. But I don''t think male models will have to worry too much about that.


    As soon as Jonathan appeared on the set to announce that today was the day of the hair makeover, Chris began to speculate about his new haircut or hair colour, and naturally was curious to see if I would be getting my hair colour changed.


    The rarity of red hair has led many models to deliberately dye their hair red just for the fashion look in the hard photos, so I didn''t really think the designers would let me dye my hair any other colour. I ended up with a slight trim at this length and my hair was still semi-long and curly after blow-drying


    Nina said to me with a saddened look on her face, "You''re perfect, after all, and the rare hair colour is an added advantage as a model. After all, red hair is a guarantee of pure blood in England, and there aren''t that many redheads in America. Unlike me, who has to dye it red on purpose! Just to distinguish it from Alison, who had a similar style to mine before."


    Yes, to differentiate herself from the wide-eyed siren Alison from previous seasons, Nina cut out her fringes and her long hair was reduced to shoulder length. Her original pale blonde hair was dyed a deep red and she became like a tree elf in the jungle.


    To make things ridiculous, Chris and Dan once again parted into the same hair colour, platinum blonde.


    "Brian, why do you think I''m so unlucky!" As Chris and I sat in line to wash our hair, Chris had a sad face and kept muttering about his bad luck. "Not only was I forced to be in a group with that bastard Dan for the last hard photo shoot, but this time I''m even going to be in the same colour as him!"


    "My face already looks like a bad boy, and dying my hair blonde makes it look even more of an asshole...obviously that douchebag Dan is the bigger asshole..."


    In fact, Chris'' platinum blonde hair colour just made his already stern eyebrows colder and more ruthless, not a bad change. At least now people would remember him in a nutshell when they saw him. The length of his hair had not changed, it had only been slightly trimmed.


    In contrast, Dan''s hair length was flat and nowadays he doesn''t have extensions, and the result came out looking even more dowdy and gangly with his tattoos. Because of that conflict, I didn''t rest my eyes on Dan too much.


    But listening to the unlucky Chris rambling and crumbling in my ear, I''d better keep my mouth shut about it for humane reasons.


    Apart from me, Marvin''s black hair and Jamie''s brown hair were retained. Mike''s hair colour is an amber highlight with a slight trim. The male models had a much easier time with their hair than the female models with their long hair shortened, short hair extensions and various perms and dyes.


    The male model who made the most radical change was Ashton, and I watched him almost cry when he saw his hair kicked out and turned into a bald head.


    There was nothing wrong with Ashton''s hairstyle, as his features shone through after losing all his hair, which was not a big deal among the male models. Even his bald head was a memorable factor, a feature in a fashion world where models are as plentiful as dogs.


    Of the female models, apart from the bouncy Nina who was dyed from blonde to crimson, blonde Alyssa''s hair was dyed chocolate brown. Taylor seems to be particularly fond of dyeing originally blonde hair to other colours and originally other colours to blonde hair.


    "You know what? This stupid blonde makes me look like one of those busty blonde barbies!" Alice complained to me in a heavy tone. Even the ever-stable Alice couldn''t help but show her little-girl posture when it came to her hair.


    Rina''s curly brown hair was also straightened and dyed black, Cheryl''s black hair was dyed flaxen and given big wavy curls with extensions, Gianna''s long black hair was cut off to create a bob that accentuated her jawline, and Corinne''s long hair was cut short in a faux-boy style.


    Today was arguably the easiest day of the show, with the models being bused back to the supermodel house after their hair makeovers. Tomorrow, Saturday, will be another elimination round, this time one person will be eliminated based on hard photos and social media voting scores.


    Chris had showered before me, his blonde hair dripping wet on his head, and walked in wearing the sweatpants and short sleeves he''d worn to bed when I was nestled in my room flipping through the new book I''d just started.


    I glanced up and frowned, "Didn''t the hairdresser tell you not to wash your hair for the next three days? Bleaching and dyeing hurts your hair."


    Chris paused as he walked in, then shrugged indifferently, "It''s not like those girls, their hair is going to grow afterwards anyway, it''s nothing to hurt it this short, it''ll all be cut off in two months."


    I shook my head helplessly and said, "Come here and I''ll dry it for you, don''t use the hairdryer later, it''s a while before you go to bed anyway, let it dry naturally."


    Chris didn''t object again, he dutifully came over and sat on the edge of my bed allowing me to place the towel over his head for a ravaging session.


    "Hey Nina made some fruit salad do you guys want to..." said Ashton pushing the door open without looking before the words stuttered out of his mouth.


    Chris didn''t notice anything wrong with Ashton''s expression as he stood up and took the towel I handed him and casually rested it on the end of his bed, "I''ll go get you some back, you go ahead and take a shower." He then walked around Ashton who was frozen in place and walked out, giving Ashton a disgusted look as he passed.


    I lost my smile and ignored the way Ashton leaned over eagerly with a gossipy expression on his face, casually folding a corner of the book on my lap over the page number I saw before closing it and putting it under my pillow.


    Watching me ignore him as he pulled out his bath towel and shorts, Ashton started to stand up and follow me around, asking insistently, "Ugh, ignore me! Say, are you two...Brian are you double?"


    "No." I shook my head without hesitation.


    "Liar! That atmosphere between you and Chris is obvious to anyone who isn''t blind!" Ashton wouldn''t relent.


    I grabbed my own set of pajama trousers and pajamas and turned my head with a smile, "I''m not lying to you. Because I''m not double, I''m gay. Pure."


    "What?!" Ashton jumped up as he blurted out, "Why didn''t you tell me this all along? I always thought I was the only guy left in this house that was gay, it felt like high school all over again, it was so annoying."


    "I thought you could tell," I teased with a shrug, "It doesn''t look like your radar is too good."


    Excited, Ashton grinned and asked, "So do you think Chris is? You and him..."


    "No." I instantly denied it. I didn''t actually think Chris was straight as steel, it''s just that I didn''t really want him bent in my hands. After all, you have to take responsibility when you''re tamed, and I didn''t want to let someone delve into my personal space.


    "Well..." Ashton deflated again without his gossip, and I waved him out of the room, clutching my towel and clothes.


    Ashton''s gossip was infinitely powerful and the next day everyone knew that my sexual orientation was male. After that, people looked at me and Chris with increasingly strange expressions, Chris being the last to know about it.


    I was forced to bring up the subject in a personal interview because of this. Purposely called by the staff to a special photo room in the supermodel house, I sat helplessly for the camera.


    "I didn''t mean to cover up my sexuality and I don''t blame Ashton for telling everyone about it. It''s just that at first I didn''t think it was something that needed to be brought up, and they didn''t see it, perhaps because of my not-so-feminine behavioural patterns."


    Taking advantage of this interview, the staff asked multiple questions at once about the topic for use in later clips.


    "Yes, prior to competing in America''s Next Top Model, I had another job as a dancer in the Chippendale Commercial Dance Company. My job required me to be in the dance studio at least one day a week for rehearsals, so I knew all my angles to my advantage."


    "I don''t know why everyone thinks Chris likes me. I think he just sees me as the only friend in the supermodel house and you have to admit that sometimes the interaction between two straight best friends can be more like a couple than a gay couple."


    I weighed my words so that nothing I said could be misinterpreted to mean something else. Many contestants'' popularity plummeted after the show aired, and all because they couldn''t control their mouths and were reckless during personal interviews.


    Even if your original sentence didn''t mean that, but the show''s crew just need a small cut of the scissors for the show''s effect, maybe your whole on-screen image will be stereotyped.


    Saturday, the elimination round.


    When Nina told Chris on the bus about the day''s mega news, Chris'' dumbfounded look was amusing. Still very unsure, he turned to me and asked, "Brian, is it true what they said?"


    "True," I said as I turned the book in my hand back another page, "What?"


    "You never told me that!" Chris said loudly. The sound of his voice made everyone else around us lean over to look curiously.


    I made a shushing gesture in front of my mouth and looked at him, "So what if I knew? You''re not going to avoid suspicion?"


    "Of course not..." said Chris in a slightly mixed tone.


    The official filming of the elimination match began and Taylor opened the show in the usual way. Because of the subject matter, the hard shot of Jamie and I got the highest score in the social media poll for this one.


    Since the models wouldn''t know what their final hard photo would look like until the elimination round, I took a closer look at myself in that photo while the judges were judging.


    In the hard photo that was graded, my mouth was half open in the manner of a wildcat baring its teeth to scare off its enemies, and the height difference between the front and back half of my body showed the length and curve of my back, as well as the curve of Taylor''s most important buttocks.


    In the photo my eyes are staring straight into the camera, my body leaning slightly towards Jamie and a few inches behind him, my pose representing the language of the body that seems to tell the story between the two slaves.


    Best result, I got the best hard shot of the round.


    Jamie, however, despite being in good shape, seemed to be elbowed by the awkwardness of the set at the time, and his pose was heavily criticised for being too frontal to the camera, so it was difficult to see his waist in the photo, and the pose of his hands was called a gorilla by Norma.


    Same picture, different result. Jamie unfortunately ended up in a shocking twelfth place.


    Chris''s hard shot was a mixed bag with the judges, as he was teamed with Gianna, who was pictured on top of her lying on the bar like a predator, with a cold, intimidating look in his eyes. While Norma questioned his expression as not being sexy enough, Taylor liked his body movements and called Chris'' expression ugly beauty and he came fifth.


    Mike, who like Jamie lacked modelling skills, took much more time than any other model with Jonathan''s patience and finally came second with a photo that pleased the judges. He was joined by Alice and Rena, two of the strongest women, but both lost out in the poses.


    Alice''s pose showed off her length but missed the curve of her neck and her expression was too cold, finishing in fourth place. Rena, who did not interact with either Alice or Rob, looked stripped of the atmosphere of the scene in the photo, and her pose was unexciting, being pinned down by Alice in tenth place.


    In this encounter between the two women and Mike, Mike seemed to have a slight edge, yet most people still wouldn''t see him as a formidable opponent.


    Because Mike''s performance relied on Jonathan''s patient coaching of his expressions, his modelling skills were far from those of Alice and Rena. This time he won by lying on the bed, with Alice and Rena in front of him blocking most of his body, and he didn''t change his pose for the entire shoot.


    In my opinion, Mike and Jamie are the two most likely to be brushed off if the next round of hard photos are taken in individual shots and no other models miss out.


    Ashton was teamed with Nina. Ashton was his usual self, lacking the masculinity that has seen him criticised in every other way, and he finished in 8th place.


    Nina was completely absorbed in the scene, or rather in Rob''s charms, during the shoot with Ashton and Rob. Her entranced expression and her petite body nestled against Rob''s strong chest earned her a contrasting beauty, finishing in fifth place.


    Alyssa and Dan did not play well in this group, with Alyssa thankfully passing with mediocrity in seventh place. Dan, however, was completely overpowered by Rob, who was half a head taller than him in the shoot, and their types were so similar that they were one step short of being eliminated in thirteenth place. Becoming the last model to advance.


    "Damn, he doesn''t look like he deserves to stay at all!" Ashton couldn''t help but mutter behind my ear when the camera wasn''t shining through. "Compared to Rob, he looks like a roadie in the pictures! Even those neglected arm muscles look like fat..."


    At Ashton''s unsparing criticism, Chris nodded his head back and forth like I was going to take it out on you, and I couldn''t help but laugh.


    Yes, Marvin and Cheryl were in a group and the two were the first to be photographed, seemingly nervous and possibly overwhelmed by Alexandra. Marvin''s body wasn''t relaxed and his expression wasn''t firm enough, and he ended up in eleventh place.


    Cheryl''s pose and expression were judged to be useless, and a malfunction in a hard photo shoot cost her the chance to continue, and Cheryl was eliminated from the competition.

 CH 15

    Back in the supermodel house after the elimination round, the screen in the living room that had originally featured Marvin''s polygamy-themed hard photos was replaced with dynamic hard photos of me. In fact, if it was a normal themed model photo, it wouldn''t have looked weird on the one metre wide TV screen.


    But when I was on the floor in a kneeling position in the hard photo, the whole picture was erotic. It always makes me feel uncomfortable when everyone walks in and sees me in the picture.


    "Phew!" Ashton whistled and then said, to the roar of the female models, "I have to admit you''re gay just by looking at this picture!"


    I made an awkward face and laughed, not saying anything.


    "So you''d pick Chris to share the Taylor Suite with you, right?" Nina smiled as she glanced back and forth between the hard picture on the screen and me.


    Hearing her mention Chris, I subconsciously turned my head to find Chris in person, only to find that somehow he had walked to the kitchen and pulled a can of beer out of the fridge.


    "If he''s still up for it." I replied with a shrug and a smile. Nina turned her head and saw Chris''s move as well and she giggled.


    Ashton glanced at Chris and suddenly raised his hand and shouted, "If he doesn''t want to remember to piggyback on me! I wouldn''t mind sharing a bed with you at night at all."


    The staff in charge of the shoot in the Supermodel House asked the model who won the best hard photo and the key to the Taylor Suite each time to decide in front of the camera who they would invite to share the Taylor Suite with them. So I had to stand in front of the camera and say in a loud voice, "Chris, do you want to share the Taylor Suite with me?"


    Chris''s hand visibly paused as the camera''s lens drew into focus. He just seemed to turn around with a grin of realization and said, "You mean the Guess cloakroom? Of course!"


    Ashton walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder as he whispered with a laugh, "You see that, don''t you? That''s how they''re supposed to react when your sexuality is exposed to straight men. It looks like I''ve established that Chris really is straight."


    I gave Chris a deep look as he turned a little uncomfortably and headed outside. I looked away from him and stopped looking at him, if he felt awkward I wouldn''t push it too much. After all, the two had only known each other for less than a week, and it would be a bewildering miracle if three or four of the people here would be in touch again after the game.


    I backhanded Ashton''s head with the hood on his shirt and said, "You''re too much of a gossip Ashton." Ashton seemed to stiffen for a moment, and I didn''t care or withdraw my hand as I walked towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. I was going to pack some washing up and check into the Taylor suite tonight, it looked like I would finally have a space of my own.


    Ashton trotted after me, he pulled back the hood I had jerked off and put it back on, "Oh? Who are you calling this weekend? You know the All-American supermodel has time to talk to her family every Sunday, right?"


    Ashton had switched sides since yesterday when he found out I was of a male sexual orientation; instead of just hanging out with Nina and the girls, he was mostly pestering me to talk. Chris was indeed much quieter in comparison. Maybe the subject of my sexuality did affect him.


    I stepped out of range of the camera before I said, "We have five minutes each for a total of one hour of talk time. You remember to think of a point to make, and I''ll be talking to a friend."


    Ashton''s instant fire of gossip burned as he excitedly followed me into the bedroom and watched me bend down to gather up the clothes and books I would be using for the evening. "A friend, what friend? Your boyfriend?! What''s his name and how long have you been together?"


    "Whoa, what colleague needs to call back specifically at this time of night?" Ashton was incredibly excited as he persistently continued to press the issue, "Wait, one of your dance troupes means he''s a dancer too? He must be in great shape! Tell me about it, I''ll keep my mouth shut this time!"


    I straightened up clutching my pyjama bath towel and half-read book and spoke helplessly to satisfy Ashton''s curiosity, "Not a special friend, just the only person I''ve known in the last two years who counts as a friend and there''s no one else to beat."


    With that said I turned towards the bedroom door, ready to settle my things in the Taylor suite first and take a look at Guess''s wardrobe in the meantime.


    "Haha, does he have a girlfriend then?" Ashton followed me relentlessly.


    "Nope." I walked to the door and twisted it open.


    "Then he definitely has a crush on you!" Ashton concluded cheerfully, "Another one of your colleagues, hasn''t had a steady girlfriend in two years, knows your sexuality and hangs out with you all day."


    "Okay, okay, he''s my boyfriend, okay?" I said as I twisted open the bedroom door and turned to Ashton, "So are you still going to go to the Taylor Suite for your eye candy or not?" Ashton was the simpler thinker, you don''t have to calculate too much when talking to someone like that, but sometimes it can cause unexpected problems.


    Ashton was nodding cheerfully when he heard the front, then for some reason his expression froze.


    "You''ve got a boyfriend?"


    I turned my head to look out the bedroom door where Chris was standing in the doorway with a couple of cans of beer at some point.


    "Startled me, Chris." I looked at the neck of his neck which had turned red, it seemed like he''d had a lot to drink in just a moment, "That was bullshit for Ashton. Why are you drinking so much? We were just about to go for a look around the Guess wardrobe, do you want to come along?"


    "...No, I''ll talk tomorrow." He was silent for a moment before answering, and he shifted to head for the bedroom.


    I sidled up to let him walk past, giving Ashton a look to signal the two men to walk out as I covered the door.


    Ashton followed close behind me towards the Taylor suite, "It''s weird to say why Chris is always jealous of you when he''s obviously straight. It''s so funny."


    I didn''t respond to Ashton''s words.


    Early Sunday morning I got up early as usual and prepared to make breakfast for a couple of people for Chris, Ashton and Nina. To my surprise, however, Chris was shoveling freshly made omelettes out of the skillet when I arrived in the kitchen.


    "You''re up early today." I rubbed my eyes and walked towards him, looking at the breakfast for two on my plate.


    Chris gave me a look, looked down at the frying pan and said, "Good morning, I slept a little early yesterday so I happened to be up earlier than you today. So I made breakfast." With that he handed me the plate with two fried eggs and a couple of small sausages.


    I took the plate and surveyed the dark circles and scruff under his eyes, still not nailing the fact that he probably hadn''t slept at all last night.


    I couldn''t exactly analyse Chris''s state of mind today; he hid it so well that while it was easy to see his unnaturalness, it was hard to draw the right conclusions. In the end I decided to ignore it.


    I put my dinner plate on the table, walked to the fridge and took out the milk, casually grabbing two glasses washed on the stove top and pouring one for each of us.


    "They don''t usually get up for half an hour, so after you eat you can go and wash up and then I''ll show you the Guess wardrobe in the Taylor suite?" I said in a questioning tone.


    Chris put the skillet in the sink, walked over to the table and sat down and said, "Okay. By the way, the call time later...I don''t have anyone I have to call, you can use my call time to call your boyfriend if you need to...speaking of which, what''s your boyfriend''s name?"


    I took a bite from a sausage with my fork and smiled at Chris''s uncomfortable look, "Didn''t I tell you yesterday that the boyfriend thing was a casual perfunctory remark I made to Ashton. Mike is a colleague of mine from the George Robles Dance Company."


    Chris nodded, but the look on his face showed he didn''t believe it as he returned, "Well...you can call Mike on my airtime, I don''t really need to."


    I gave him a look, lowered my head and took a bite of my omelette and stopped explaining.


    It seemed to me that Chris was starting to struggle with his perception of his sexuality, which was not a good sign for me because I hated trouble. If I accidentally bent Chris, it would be a problem for me.


    It was finally time for the weekly call after 11am.


    As I had won the Taylor Suite, I was scheduled to be the first caller. The America''s Next Top Model working group had taken special pleasure in building a special red phone booth in the Supermodel House, which when you sit in it is completely cut off from the sound inside and out, ensuring complete privacy, but there is a camera in the booth.


    I sat in the booth and closed the door, and with a wave of Chris'' hand dialed Mike''s mobile number, which I had memorised at some point. After a few beeps, the other end quickly picked up the phone.


    "Hello, this is Mike."


    "Mike," I smiled at the sound of Mike''s rarely businesslike voice, "Guess who''s on the phone with you again?"


    "Brian?" Mike seemed to put something down on his end and walked away into relative silence. "Have you finally been allowed to call. How does it feel to be living in the legendary supermodel house?"


    "How''s the supermodel house for the first question, don''t you think it''s too heartless?" I chatted to Mike as usual about the unconventional. "As per your interest, the supermodel house is full of female models walking around in bathrobes after their showers, you should sign up yourself if you want to have a good time."


    "I looked at those hard photos you took on the official website, haha the last one fits your jazz dance style so well." Mike didn''t respond to my words, instead he seemed to be in a good mood and joked.


    "Thanks to you, that last one won best hard photo. What''s annoying is that that hard photo is going to be lit up on the big screen in the living room all day."


    Mike laughed loudly on the other end of the line, "Do you get a lot of sneaky photos and videos at fight shows on a regular basis? What are you so embarrassed about."


    "You''re rehearsing? Who''s replaced our original partner''s opening act now?" Again, I didn''t pick up on this and instead brought up something that the two had in common.


    "There''s a new kid on the block, and the style-wise it overlaps right with your old clientele. It''s just a bit duller than you, and I''ve been bringing him up to speed on our choreography lately." Mike replied.


    I smiled and said, "It doesn''t matter if he''s a bit dodgy, it''s the ones who don''t save the day. Don''t you hate co-workers who don''t do clean business? It''s more to your liking."


    "Well, I''m afraid that if you''re too nerdy, you''ll be easily fooled." Mike didn''t sound happy with the newcomer.


    ......


    When I walked out of the phone booth I realized that Chris was still standing in the same place, waiting for me with a glass of milk in his hand. He looked quizzically at me walking towards him and said, "I don''t think it''s been five minutes yet, why did you hang up so fast? I gave you my airtime too, you could have kept calling."


    I looked up at him for a moment and approached him to take the nearly finished glass of milk from his hand, Chris reflexively took a step back. I laughed and said, "I never call for more than three minutes because there''s nothing special I need to say. Why don''t you go and call some random friend, you can ask them to canvass for you, social media votes can make all the difference."


    Chris seemed taken aback by his own reaction and lowered his head, not daring to meet my eyes. "Go on." I patted him on the shoulder and pointed to the phone booth. "I''ll go ahead and tell them they can come over to the phone line."


    Sunday day, clear time always passes quickly without people realizing it, and week two of America''s Next Top Model comes around.


    Monday of the second week, the challenge.


    The bus took everyone to a show, a runway show put on by Nylon magazine. However, this time the catwalk show was a bit special, the platform was two giant old record discs that kept spinning. The models had to perform perfect catwalk steps on these two circular platforms that spun at the speed of a treadmill.


    The challenge was hosted by Jonathan, who matched each model''s outfit to her personality. The editor-in-chief of Nylon magazine will also be there to watch.


    For a model''s career, winning the editor-in-chief of a magazine can mean more work in the future, and even more work in magazine photo shoots, which can help raise awareness.


    There is a very simple trick to getting a decent model''s stride on a show like this. Your steps need to be equal to the speed at which the turntable is turning so that you can walk steadily and look comfortable on the turntable.


    Those who ended up shining in this challenge, apart from me and Chris who I had been reminded of the technique beforehand, were Alice who was a total professional and Rena who had a particular swagger.


    Dan, who was solid, and Nina, who was bouncy and quirky, were close behind.


    Mark hadn''t modelled before, which didn''t give him an advantage in terms of stage presence. He got the same comments as several of the other female models. Jamie and Mike had the same reason, but their lack of confidence in their steps led to a wince on the catwalk and they ended up being named and shamed.


    That was it, Jonathan''s preference for Mike still didn''t go down and he taught him round after round in the lounge how to walk the stage. There wasn''t even much regard for me as a result, which was somewhat of a relief to me.


    As long as I didn''t usually have nothing to do with hanging around Jonathan, he shouldn''t be betting much attention on me outside of the hard photo shoot. After all, Brian''s usual harmless schoolboy look wasn''t really Jonathan''s cup of tea. What Jonathan did wasn''t exactly office sexual harassment, but his slimy attitude and forceful, intimate gestures left me indifferent.


    The final winner of the challenge was Alice, who had completely specialised in tableaux.


    After the challenge, back at the Supermodel House, the challenge scores of all the models were once again displayed on the big screen in the living room. Thank goodness my sexually suggestive hard photo was replaced.


    Alice''s tableau was impeccable and received a perfect ten. Me, Chris and Rena scored nine. Dan, Nina and Marvin scored a medium to high eight. Ashton, Gianna and Conani scored an unimpressive seven. The surprise was that Alyssa only scored six points, as did Mike and Jamie.


    After the day''s challenge, no one was as relaxed as they had been on Sunday, knowing that tomorrow would be another hard photo shoot.

 CH 16

    Tuesday of the second week, hard photo shoot. The model bus drove us to a huge car park.


    "This is your shoot today," Jonathan said as he stood in front of the models to talk about the day''s shoot, "Fashion is inspired by the little things in life, from Parisian fashion streets to car parks. Today we''re going to mix it up, combining caravan culture with high fashion. You will now be allowed to pick your own partners, in order of your performance from last week."


    "Brian," Jonathan turned his head to me, "you won best hard photo last week, you pick first."


    Choosing your own partner was a tough choice, the first thing you had to consider was that your partner''s modelling skills couldn''t be at least as bad or they would just waste your energy during the shoot, Mike and Jamie were ruled out first.


    Secondly, your partner can''t catch all the photographer''s eye or their own light will be overshadowed as the photographer will save the best angles for each other. Mike, who is most at Jonathan''s heart, is ruled out.


    The partner must be a bit different from your own style so that the overall diversity is reflected in the photos. Nina, who has the same hair colour and style as me, was also excluded.


    Ashton, because he is not strong enough, would weaken the atmosphere between the two if paired with him, and I wasn''t going to choose Ashton either.


    Alice and Chris were both good options, so I turned my head to look at them both and asked, "Do we have to go with girls? Or is it both genders."


    Jonathan smiled a little and replied, "Both are fine, there isn''t a specific women''s or men''s brand for this hard photo shoot."


    "I''ll go with Chris then." I said with a smile as I hooked the neck of Chris'' neck in front of me.


    It seemed that because of my opening, starting with Ashton, everyone was raising their voices. Chris'' ears flushed a little unnoticeably as he pulled the corners of his mouth up and smiled.


    The reason for not choosing Alice was simple, as Alice was too professional and the photographer would have given the female model more of the main angle during the shoot. So, when both were male models, there would be no bias in the photographer''s shots.


    The second choice Mike chose Alyssa who he had been photographed with in the wedding photos. The third, Gianna, wisely chose Marvin, the strongest of the male models left.


    Alyssa was fourth and had no choice but to finally choose Dan. It was Nina''s turn she cruised through the boys for a while before finally choosing Jamie, at least Jamie wouldn''t be frozen in front of the camera like Mike was, and the best body ever praised by Rob.


    In the end it came down to Ashton, Rena and Konani, and with no choice between the three, it was Jonathan''s decision to shoot the three of them together. Paired with the powerful Raina, Ashton was in a bad position, but with two female models and one male model it gave him a good advantage as he would be the centre of attention for the photographers.


    After Tuesday''s hard photo shoot and a day of waiting, the elimination phase took place on Wednesday night.


    The hard photo shoot with Chris and I brought out the best of the chemistry between the two of us. One of the things that worked best for me in the outdoor photos was the dual effect of the sunlight and my hair colour, which seemed like a shaggy flame, and Chris'' short platinum blonde hair, a gorgeous colour that would instantly grab the eye of anyone who saw the photos.


    The caravan style is only used as a background theme, but the story line is mostly in the hands of the models themselves. The casual clothes required the models to show themselves relaxed and at home, but relaxed with a stunning sense of style.


    Norma is clearly someone who really enjoys seeing the storyline in hard photos, and for that she gave Chris and I a 9 and an 8 respectively. Rob focused more on the development potential and posing skills of the male models than the others, with the only downside being that the lighting on Chris'' face was weaker than mine, and Rob gave me and Chris the same 8.


    Taylor, who is always the most generous of the judges, combined the opinions of both judges to give me a 9 and Chris a 9.


    On the other hand, because I knew that for a show like America''s Next Top Model, where the audience is largely female and gay, there is nothing more relevant to their preferences than two handsome men in a hardcore photo shoot, we ended up in second and third place respectively, thanks to a very strong social media vote, albeit below Alice.


    Alice''s modelling skills on location were spot on and the social media scores were never lower than the top three due to her pretty face, this time reaching a peak.


    However, it seems to have been commercialised by being too professional on the outside, with Norma rated as not being able to see the story line in the photos. But the combined score still gave her the best hard photo for this one, coming in first.


    The combination of Alice and Dan turned out, unsurprisingly, to be a female model who overpowered the male model with all her might, and I''m told that the photographer''s attention fell on Alice throughout the shoot. Dan, who only served as a set dresser for once, finished in fifth place.


    Nina''s red hair in the sun and her slender stance were judged to be a tree siren, with impeccable modelling skills and expressions, not to mention the fashion sense brought out by her unique looks. Norma rated her as a perfect combination of character and skill, finishing in fourth place.


    The rest of the rankings started after Dan''s fifth place, with the faultless duo of Marvin and Gianna coming in sixth and seventh each, Ashton and Konani coming down in order to get eighth and ninth respectively, while Rena, who was out of her depth, was another place lower to get eleventh.


    Mike and Alyssa were grouped together and both came up short, with Mike''s unchanged pose throughout this outdoor photo being criticised and Jonathan seemingly finally disappointed with Mike''s potential and losing patience in his coaching.


    Alyssa''s pose in the photo, on the other hand, was judged to be too much of a show-off and a loss of style, but she didn''t pull her weight and had a beautiful expression to go with her lowest score at the challenge, taking 10th place.


    The combination of Nina and Jamie also followed in the footsteps of Alice and Dan. Jamie was somewhat dwarfed by Nina, who became the main attraction, and his inability to keep his eyes open in the harsh sunlight and reflectors, his expression and lack of knowledge of his own perfect angles left him in the end to go head to head with Mike to decide the last place in the competition.


    In Rob''s live commentary, Mike was deemed by him to be a fluke in the hard photo pose that came second last week, and this time no longer had the same swagger that he had at the beginning. In the end, Mike''s journey to America''s Next Top Model came to a screeching halt, with Jamie being the one to pass at the bottom.


    When she returned to the Supermodel House after the competition, Jamie wandered around the house like a bewildered little puppy. Jamie had been hanging out with Mike until he was eliminated, and now that Mike was gone he was back to being disliked by Alice at the beginning.


    Alice, who had been given the keys to the Taylor suite, invited Nina to share it with her. Chris was still a little awkward around me, and although he tried his best to act no different from before, I couldn''t stop watching the micro-expressions of the people around me, and that feeling of unease Chris had felt since I moved back from the Taylor suite was even worse.


    Thursday was still the challenge, which was hosted by Andy, the head of social media, and his friend a famous blogger, in which models had to interview passers-by as reporters for an online segment. The models were required to ask questions as requested by Andy and the blogger in their headsets, and would even be asked to ask strange questions and make malicious comments.


    Passers-by stare at you for your strange behaviour, but for the challenge you have to do exactly what you are asked to do in your headset. I acted so unnaturally that not only did the judges see it, but also Ashton and Chris noticed the anomaly.


    During the personal interview I sat in front of the camera and said, "I knew I had done badly this time and I had guessed the result when I heard what the competition was about. But I couldn''t get used to talking while a lot of people were staring at me, it felt like being stripped naked in front of everyone."


    "At the psychiatric sanatorium, the psychiatrist would form us into groups and each person would have to stand up and say everything that was on your mind in front of the group. That was my nightmare, and I don''t want to go through it again."


    This is the truth, and I don''t include any showmanship in saying this. But there is a deeper reason for my disgust, because when everyone looks at me with a probing curiosity, or even at a monster, I panic. I am afraid of being seen as my true self underneath the shell at such times when I cannot control my own actions.


    Being asked to act in a way that I wouldn''t normally act is like having a layer of my disguise stripped away. I did a terrible job on my final interview, looking nervous and stiff and unnatural. In the end it only scored a seven.


    Chris, however, was unexpectedly open-minded and he got a nine. Jamie, who was even less confident with the hard photo shoot, gave one hundred and twenty percent in the challenge and got a perfect ten, the highest score of all the models.


    On the bus back after the competition, Ashton and Chris asked me about the reasons for my unusual performance. I still brushed it off with the same words I used in my personal interview.


    ......


    On Friday, this time it wasn''t a hard photo shoot.


    America''s Next Top Model had brought in a famous stage actor and the remaining twelve models, exactly six pairs of each gender, would be reversing each other''s gender for a perfume commercial.


    After Jonathan announced the shoot, the models were in an uproar, especially the male models. Ashton showed a smug look, clearly very confident about the reverse skewing.


    "As the commercial will end with one of your passionate kisses, you will choose your own partners according to your ranking from the last hard photo shoot. Alice, you were the best hard photo last time, you choose first." Jonathan said finally.


    Alice chose Jamie, who had a crush on her, witty choice. Even if Jamie didn''t do well on his solo shoot again, because he had a crush on Alice, the two would end up working better together on that one than with other models who didn''t like her.


    Secondly it was my turn, and I decided to go for Gianna based on her strong performance at Lace''s wedding that first week. Following on from that, Chris chose Nina, Marvin chose Rena and Ashton chose Alyssa. Finally Dan and Kernani were left as a group.


    All the boys had to be trained beforehand on how to walk in heels before dresses, makeup and wigs.


    To be honest, when I put on those 13cm heels, standing up felt like I was stepping on two thin chopsticks, I had to lean my weight forward and rely on my forefoot to support me, I couldn''t get my balance right.


    I couldn''t stand at all at first, and if Ashton hadn''t taken my hand and led me, I don''t think I would have learned to walk in heels even if I had sprained my ankle. Almost all male models, except Ashton, were in this predicament.


    As Ashton didn''t have to learn how to walk in heels, he and Alyssa were the first group to do the shoot. Thanks to Ashton''s experience as a drag queen, I was able to learn how to stand on heels quickly under his guidance, at least a little faster than all the other male models.


    Gianna and I were the second group to be photographed. The designer dressed me in an unexpectedly idyllic outfit, a white chiffon dress and waist-length hair the same colour as my original hair, but without a hint of curl, as long and straight as the kind found in faerie lore.


    The first time I saw Brian in the mirror with long, straight hair, although the hair colour was still the same, the lazy gentleness that Brian had originally brought with him was all but shattered and recreated, and the expressionless look on my face in the mirror was cold and discreet.


    The grass green eye shadow with glitter added a touch of smut to the otherwise innocent look, and the pale pink, unobtrusive lip gloss made the lips look blown out.


    "Wow! Brian, you look so beautiful in this!" Ashton, dressed in a femme fatale OL outfit, had just finished filming and came running towards me on her heels.


    Before he could see, I turned my head with a fresh, harmless smile, "Really? It feels weird to see myself with straight hair for the first time."


    Ashton walked up to me and cupped my cheek with a swooning look on his face, "Oh, you look like a real girl. Go on, go show Chris! He''ll be stunned!"


    I was pulled to my feet by Ashton and stumbled a few steps and broke away from Ashton''s hand, "Wait... I thought he was practicing walking, so I''d better not bother him. Besides, I need to talk to Gianna about the kiss scene later."

 CH 17

    The shooting set.


    "Brian?!" Jonathan came up to me with a surprised look on his face, "You look great!"


    Shit! I suddenly thought of this one. After Jonathan''s heartthrob Mike was eliminated, who else was going to help me get his undue attention?


    Without noticing I twisted on my feet and Jonathan, who had walked in front of me, reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist. The chiffon skirt was so thin that the warmth of Jonathan''s palm soaked through the fabric of the skirt to my waist.


    Unlike the previous kisses with Alice or soon to be with Gianna, the kiss with the two female models was completely workmanlike, without a trace of personal feeling. But Jonathan''s suggestive body contact made it hard to stop the goose bumps from breaking out on my arms and back.


    My hand touched Jonathan''s outstretched hand and I quickly stepped out of the reach of his arm as I used the momentum to stand still.


    "How''s that standing?" Jonathan looked at me with concern before his eyes fell on my bare legs.


    It felt strange enough in my skirt, and with the strange sight of an older man, I uncomfortably tugged at the skirt I was wearing. "I''m okay, we can start filming now. My feet hurt a bit from wearing heels for so long..." I urged in a natural tone, saying the justifiable reasons.


    The shoot started and Ashton, who had finished filming and was free, came over to watch, somewhat tempering Jonathan''s behaviour.


    The shoot was divided into three parts, with the man and woman each walking face to face and meeting each other, in which the male model dressed as a woman was required to wear the advertised perfume. This is followed by an interpretation of the man''s and woman''s electric expressions as they meet. Finally, the scene ends with a passionate kiss.


    Walking in high heels and a knee-length chiffon dress, with Ashton''s as if dictated walk with legs that must be clenched above the thighs, I tried to imitate Alice''s model walk as best I could, just trying not to be too unnatural and twist like a comedian.


    Then, following the points Gianna had told me earlier, I pulled the bottle of perfume out of my bag and held my hand at arm''s length over my chest to let the mist of perfume spray over my neck. After spraying the perfume, I lowered my head slightly with a seemingly shy smile on my face, matching the gaze of the crowd of actors pretending to be passers-by around me just right.


    "Nice, cute shy look..." praised Jonathan, sitting in the moving camera car, keeping his eyes on me. "Brian you''re acting like a real girl!"


    Although, as originally required of comedians, a commercial with a spoof element would have been more in keeping with the script. However, I was thinking about the social media poll, and the audience watching this video would not focus on whether you were funny or not.


    After all, the funny of playing ugly in a video that has six scripts in total, the unnaturalness of the other male models must bring out the same laughs. What I wanted to do was to be perfect, which would give the viewer a sense of wonder when viewing the video.


    On the other hand, however, Gianna''s performance is not quite up to scratch. In fact the models in the supermodel house are more or less aware of Gianna''s fondness for Mike, and just as Jamie was affected by Mike''s elimination, Gianna was affected even more and has been a little distracted for the past two days.


    She got a point lower than even mine in yesterday''s challenge and I expected her to be woken up by that wake-up call yesterday, but apparently she''s still a bit off her game. I seemed to have made the wrong choice, and in contrast to the relaxed, tomboyish look of Konani in her arms in the dressing room, Gianna didn''t see the light at all.


    In the second shot, the camera comes in very close. I look at the empty space next to the camera, my eyes move as if I see a sexy, handsome man, then shyly turn my face sideways and lower my eyelids. But then as if determined, my eyes look straight into the camera with a pure but seductive smile.


    This image was shot several times for me patiently by Jonathan in order to get the timing right for a good laugh, and Ashton seemed to remember from this image what he had seen during the previous shoot of the set of hard photos of Mike and Alexandra together, as he ate and covered his mouth in laughter off camera.


    I couldn''t help but give him a flying wink after this shot was taken. Ashton gave me a cheeky flying kiss back.


    "I don''t suppose it''s Ashton''s type you like, is it?" Jonathan''s voice suddenly appeared behind me, causing my heart to skip a half beat.


    Once again he was getting too close! I turned around with a chill behind my ear and took a few quick steps back to a distance that made me feel safe.


    My panic seemed to make Jonathan misunderstand something, and he smiled as he gestured to take a step closer. In this case, trying not to offend the judges meant that I couldn''t just refuse, leaving me with a sarcastic smile and turning towards Ashton, rather like I was running away.


    Ashton couldn''t stop sniggering as I approached, "You''re like a bullied little bride, it''s a good thing Chris isn''t here or he would have offended the judges."


    In the final scene, we had to stop short of what would have been a sloppy kiss in the face of Gianna''s awkwardness and lack of relaxation, and all I could do was tug on Gianna''s arm with one hand and give a slight push to look reluctant, before lowering my head slightly in the direction of the camera and brushing my lips with the other hand, hoping that this last bit wouldn''t be too badly criticised.


    The male models, with the exception of Ashton and Marvin, were all wilted by the time they got back to the supermodel house, having been through a disaster. The only reason Marvin was still smiling after a day of high heels was because Rena had given him an early kiss in the dressing room, making the horny kid look like Popeye on spinach.


    A busy week went by almost in the blink of an eye, with another elimination on Saturday. This weekend however took a turn for the worse that even I could not have anticipated.


    "Mr Bryan Moss, could you come with me for a moment?" A crew member said as I got off the bus arriving at the elimination shoot.


    "What can I do for you?" I asked, putting on a comforting smile.


    "Uh..." the crew member turned with a cryptic look at the other models who were walking into the studio and whispered, "Two FBI agents have contacted the crew and want to talk to you by name."


    Even I couldn''t help but stiffen for a moment. Why would the FBI want to find me?


    If you don''t do anything wrong, you''re not afraid of a ghost knocking on your door. But because of the constant confrontation with Brian''s personality, my mental state was often unstable and prone to losing control. So, as someone who was already a little weak, the FBI suddenly coming to my door was like a bolt from the blue for me.


    It''s okay...it''s okay...I kept telling myself in my mind, my feet already mechanically following this staff member. I was sure I hadn''t committed any crime anyway. ...... No matter what, I should be fine.


    Waving a hand to Ashton and Chris, who turned their heads frequently to look over, telling them not to worry. I followed the staff to an unused lounge behind the stage.


    Two men dressed in full suits were already waiting there. I walked into the lounge under the watchful eyes of the two men and I had the nervous tension of a mouse meeting a cat.


    "Mr. Bryan Moss?" One of the agents spoke up, "We have a few questions for you about David Vincent."


    "...David Vincent?" I repeated the name blankly before saying in a rush, "I don''t know anyone called David Vincent, do you have the wrong person?" That was the word, but my heart leapt.


    "That might give you an idea," the other agent spoke up, "the name he''s using now is Mike, Mike Tatum. Your colleague in the Chippendale Dance Company."


    "Mike?" I forced my inner turmoil and made an unmistakable expression of surprise. I couldn''t think of any reason why Mike would be involved with the FBI. "What''s wrong with him? Did something happen to him?"


    The supermodel house was completely isolated from the world because the National Supermodel Competition was held to ensure fairness. The sudden arrival of two FBI agents made my head spin with a million guesses. Mike, who to me was a normal person except for his past which no one knew about, was even better liked in life than I was.


    What on earth could it be that would bring out all the FBI agents? And why was I being approached?


    The two agents looked at each other strangely, and the other spoke up, "Mr. Moss, maybe you don''t know this yet, but David Vincent is actually a suspect that we''ve had a nationwide manhunt out for over three years."


    "A criminal suspect?! But...Mike, he''s always been a nice guy to everyone, never even been involved in drug dealing or drug taking! What level of suspect is it that warrants the FBI?" my lips felt a little dry.


    "As sorry as we are, we have to tell you that your friend Mike, who you''ve known for two years, is actually the real identity of a suspect in the East End serial killings that disappeared from Florida three years ago."


    "And we checked all the recent phone records on the mobile phone number David Tatum used when he went under the alias Mike. You were the only personal call other than the many calls needed for work. We''ve also questioned the head of the Chippendale dance troupe and all say that you and David were the closest thing to friends over the last two years." Another agent interjected.


    "So we''d like to ask you to assist in the investigation. You should be aware that there are accessory crimes for harboring a suspect."


    The two FBI agents were talking to each other, stepping up to the plate in terms of dominance of words. Maybe it worked for the good, uncaring common folk, but for me, it only made me laugh.


    Because ever since Mike and I last saw each other, I''ve been living in a supermodel house, with cameras watching my every move. It was the once-a-week calls to the outside world that were also done under surveillance cameras.


    It was redundant for them to use this threat-like approach to force me to talk. Because even if I had something to do with Mike, they didn''t have any evidence.


    A million thoughts flashed through my mind as these two men questioned me.


    Just as my mind was in a tizzy, the thing that threw me into crisis all of a sudden just exploded. Surprisingly, I let a moment of mental laxity break free what I had been trying to suppress since I lost control over what happened to Dan.


    The busy non-stop schedule of America''s Next Top Model and the reason for mixing with the other contestants. I wasn''t able to get enough time to hypnotise myself and unplug after that outburst. The pitfalls that were planted then are now reverberating back at once.


    The memory of Brian flooded my five senses, and it was as if a blood red was in front of me, Mike''s usually smiling face flashing in visions, his hand flicking to shake off the drops of blood dripping down from it.


    A strong wave of disgust rushed out of my mind and attacked my whole body and limbs. I took a few steps backwards with my hands over my face, trembling and about to fall.


    ......


    No wonder, no wonder I always felt that Mike and the me with Brian inside was alike. We always had false smiles on our faces and spent our afternoon tea talking about unwarranted interests. When he turned around, his hands were stained with blood.


    So much like, so much like that I wanted to slash his hypocritical expression with a sharp knife when he put on that hypocritical smile at me! And then let him plunge into the depths of hell!


    ......


    But then...what difference would it make if I became like him? ......


    I heard myself snort a laugh and felt the coolness of tears flowing from my eyes as I covered my face in my hands. Yes, the closest friend I''d known for two years was a serial killer in hiding, and I should have been shaking with fear and crying with grief.


    "There was a ping and the door to the room slammed open.


    "What''s going on, gentlemen?" A familiar voice suddenly rang out, "Oh my God! Brian, Brian! What have you done to him? He''s not one of your prisoners! Our camera footage all but proves that he had nothing to do with your case, nothing! You''ll be prosecuted for going too far! ...and look what you''ve done! He''s my most anticipated player right now!!!"


    Jonathan''s voice, which had annoyed me, brought me back to reality with a buzz in my ears. The blood red in front of my eyes seemed to dissipate as Brian was yanked back into the cage I had reinforced once again.


    For a moment as the killing intent receded, I suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. It was the first time that my own disgust for serial killers had combined with Brian''s bloodlust, a few seconds of personality disorder that spoke volumes about my precarious state of mind.


    It was clear that Brian''s brother, Dexter, had also killed someone, but why didn''t that trigger my desire to kill? Was it because of the obsession in Brian''s mind that counteracted my distaste for serial killers?


    If so, could I use that to deepen the self-imposed message to myself, to build an unbreakable cage deep inside? But again, Brian''s obsession with Dexter threatened to lead me off on a tangent. It was a risky endeavour.


    I should be grateful to Mike''s exposure for allowing me to discover the underlying crisis deep in my psyche in advance. After two years out of the mental sanatorium, I had really started to take it too easy on myself.


    As an ordinary person who suddenly learns bad news about a friend and feels cheated, what should their reaction be?


    Jonathan rushed over and crouched down to take me in his arms, and I took the opportunity to loosen myself up as my voice broke, "Mike...he wouldn''t be like that...he was the only friend I had for two years!" Those were the words the police would always hear from the serial killer''s friends and neighbours; he wasn''t that kind of person.


    "I''m very sorry, Mr Bryan. But we need to know from you about David Tatum, and as far as we know, you''re the closest person he''s been to since he changed his name to Mike. Perhaps we can find out where he is likely to be hiding from the information you give us." Agent Mr. Redface saw that the situation was not right and tried to speak up before Agent Mr. Blackface who had been searingly close.


    Agent Mr. Blackface said helplessly, "Well, even if he doesn''t say anything anyway, as long as the BAU team is sent from above, what else can be hidden from us."

 CH 18

    I ended up missing that elimination, and although the film ended up winning Best Short Film, I was forced to withdraw from the competition to assist the police investigation due to obligations of a semi-strong nature.


    Ashton was obviously furious that this had happened to me, he had always made it his mission to win America''s Next Top Model and overpower the female models. And now that one of the male models, who in his opinion is a good one, has been forced to withdraw from the competition, doesn''t that in effect weaken the male model side?


    But really, given the demand for models at Guess these days, the chances of the organisers letting a male model win this America''s Next Top Model competition are slim to none. But I''m not about to dash his dreams in advance. The so-called male and female first time showdown is just a tool to generate buzz, and the male models this season are just giving the female models a run for their money.


    Chris was silently in the room with me packing, and I could see that he was depressed, but there was also a look of relief. He offered to call me every Sunday so I wouldn''t forget.


    Chris was now the only person around me who allowed me to have some contact with a normal life. After the illusion Mike had portrayed had been turned upside down. Maybe I really should start thinking of ways to trap Chris in my circle of life, at least his presence would make me seem less withdrawn.


    The coyote doesn''t yet know that what he is about to step into is not the pasture he imagined, but a forest of predators. Selfishness is perhaps the term that has come first in my inner circle since I became Brian.


    Although the end of America''s Next Top Model took me by surprise, it was a good result to drop out halfway through the competition for unexpected reasons because I had also won Best Short Film before dropping out.


    Rather than losing and being eliminated, it''s the abrupt end at the end of a not-so-high or not-so-low achievement that will be remembered. Because the audience can''t help but wonder if he would have won the supermodel competition if he had kept going. That sad lament would create conversation and perhaps turn into an advantage I could use.


    Also, I deliberately acted like I was actively cooperating, but only to avoid the one word that came out of Mr Blackface''s mouth unintentionally during that interrogation. the BAU team.


    The BAU team, who specialise in psychological profiling, frightened me more than the average FBI agent or seasoned detective.


    After my semi-forced exit, I followed those two FBI agents and flew back to Miami like a prisoner escort. At the same police headquarters where Sheriff Harry had been before he retired, I gave an honest account of the various other side jobs Mike had mentioned under his breath, and as a sign of good faith, I made a point of bringing up his little habit of going fishing on weekends.


    Finally, I was able to get back to my rented cabin before the FBI agents applied for BAU intervention, speed up my packing, and move up my previously scheduled flight to report early to Stanford University in California.


    I was glad that I really didn''t know anything about what Mike had done. Otherwise, I don''t think I could have survived the scrutiny of the BAU team of profilers without revealing anything suspicious to them.


    It''s really bad luck to drink cold water.


    I could be approached by the FBI even though I hadn''t done anything wrong from the beginning to the end. I can only pray that the statements I took while dealing with those two FBI agents will not arouse the suspicion of anyone in the BAU team.


    All it would take is for them to get a little suspicious and do a little background check on me. They would know that I was a man who had the experience of being locked up in a mental institution for over ten years. The reason for the incarceration was still trauma and sociopathic tendencies.


    Maybe it was time for me to find out more about that BAU team. After all, knowing your enemy is better than knowing your enemy, right? I didn''t want to be on the wrong side of justice, but I didn''t want to be watched by them under that pretext either.


    Being a mouse on a cat''s tail would have increased the vigilance in Brian''s personality and was not really conducive to my mental control. On the day it gets out of hand, it''s too late to think about it.


    Having said that, Mike''s exposure was ludicrous.


    Shortly after Mike spoke to me on the phone on Sunday the previous week, he was investigated by the police because the intern he was working with had been compelled by a "buddy" of one of the dancers in the troupe to sell drugs to the customers on the sly. This investigation led to the loss of his vest and his forced departure.


    How is this different from the serial killers of history who were ticketed for parking in the wrong place and then missed the net?


    Two years of a safe little nest was ruined by a few drugs, and I don''t think he would have survived long if the kid who sold them hadn''t been temporarily detained by the police for investigation.


    I knew that my indifference to those around me would cost me some friends, but I didn''t think that indifference could also put me in danger.


    In retrospect, Mike''s free time after work, apart from the occasional afternoon tea with me and a beer at the club in the evening, was only excused by fishing in the fish pond. I couldn''t even identify Mike''s room when the police showed it to me, which was already empty. Because I had never been to Mike''s house, or even wanted to be there.


    The two FBI agents therefore thought for a moment that I was hiding something for Mike and wouldn''t let go from the police station. Luckily, the nosy Jonathan hired a lawyer for me, after the lawyer made the case that what they were doing was interfering with my daily life and would not waive said rights if necessary. I was finally able to leave.


    Of course, it wasn''t all peace and quiet.


    I noticed a nondescript jeep often parked around my rented house, always with plain-clothes policemen who never got out and walked around. I guessed that my network would also be monitored covertly, and that this would most likely be the work of the FBI.


    But what the hell with surveillance, I used the internet to look up the events surrounding the killers in the East End of Florida.


    Most of the victims of the East End serial killings were innocent women between the ages of eighteen and thirty, and they all had one thing in common, red hair and pale skin. David Vincent''s target turned out to be a female Ginger, a similarity to my oozing gender that only my gender difference can give me some comfort.


    The modus operandi was strangulation and suffocation, and the features of the body, apart from the fish-line marks on the neck that almost cut through the skin, were all missing a ring finger bone. There was a lot of newspaper coverage and a lot of social unrest, and I was still locked up in that mental sanatorium, out of step with the world.


    I don''t know how many times Mike had to wash the blood off his hands before he walked through my door and picked up the afternoon tea I had prepared.


    I would say that there is a cage in everyone''s heart, and no matter what is in it, as long as it is properly locked up, everything will always be fine. If unfortunately that cage is opened, then one can only pray that the monster is not too big and too scary.


    Whatever David''s reason for opening that cage is, it really has nothing to do with me. After becoming Brian and being influenced by his anti-social personality, I now feel less and less about friendship and love. Only my obsession with Dexter could make me feel that I was a human being with feelings that existed.


    The surveillance van outside the rental house finally withdrew two days before I left Miami, perhaps finally establishing that I, who spent my days at home packing my bags, really had no contact with Mike.


    From what I knew from the untraceable condescension of the two FBI agents who had investigated me. Three years ago, David had fled on the news because of all the commotion in the news when the BAU team had just gotten involved in the case and the police had just narrowed down the suspects to a certain number.


    After that, he never let any bodies be found as far as I know. No body, no crime. That''s why he was able to hide comfortably in the crime haven of Miami for two years without showing his face.


    And now it''s a case of almost getting caught red-handed, so I wonder just how many rabbit holes he has left?


    I just hope he doesn''t make a smart ass out of himself and make me one of his rabbit holes, although it seems that he and I get on very well together and the two of us even get on very well. But I am definitely not as compromised with him as I would be if I were harbouring Dexter.


    My twenty-odd years of life won''t allow me to compromise once more. I just want to be a psychopathic and somewhat benevolent sociopath, and I don''t want to be an accomplice to a madman.


    David will not stop killing after opening the cage that traps the monster inside him. For my part, I would never under any circumstances let out Brian''s inner monster, that was my promise to myself. Because I was afraid, I was afraid that I would become less of my old self.


    I don''t want to die, physically free or in control of my own psyche, and I don''t want to give up either.


    That''s why I chose to enter the limelight, to monitor myself in the limelight. It''s much better than being watched by the FBI.


    ......


    After packing a few boxes of household items that I would need, I mailed them ahead of time through the post office to a bachelor pad around Stanford University that I had rented by contacting the homeowner online.


    The last day in Miami was also the last day of the America''s Next Top Model photo shoot.


    Before I left the supermodel house, I exchanged phone numbers with Ashton and Chris. Chris had called me the previous week, the first weekend I left after withdrawing from the competition.


    He wasn''t in such good shape, although he didn''t say that he was affected by me, or even avoided the subject. But I could still sense it in the hard photos on the official America''s Next Top Model website, which were not up to scratch, and in the tone of the phone call. To do some coyote taming duty, I helped him with a psychological session.


    Although I hadn''t tried this kind of psychiatrist work, after all, I had been sick for a long time. After that one call, I never heard from Chris again, and he was doing well in the new week of hard photos on the official website.


    Lying in the green grass, his snow-white complexion and platinum blonde shaggy hair, slightly propped up and rushing towards the camera, made him look like a vampire who had only just woken up.


    And in the two weeks since I left, the judges had eliminated Alyssa and Konani, and for a while the boys had a numerical advantage. Yet right after that Jamie and Dan were also eliminated. The girls'' advantage didn''t last long though, as Gianna and Nina were also eliminated.


    In the end it was down to Alice, Ashton, Marvin, Chris and Rena competing for the top three.


    The America''s Next Top Model homepage only announced this result and did not dramatise the final three contestants or the winner, intended as hunger marketing for the official show to be aired in the second half of the month.


    Randomly clicking on the discussion board on the America''s Next Top Model homepage, I scrolled down to the comments under my own hard photo.


    BeautyByLia: Brian is so beautiful as a woman... ahhhhhhhhh! What is it about being a woman that I suddenly feel ashamed of?


    Maia meow: I think it''s Ashton''s strong woman who has the swagger... Brian won this last one entirely on his face, right?


    Hey Its Angel replied to Maia meow: Brian is the best! Will you shut up if you don''t understand? Brian is a man when he wants to be a man and a woman when he wants to be a woman! Ashton is always a pussy when he wants to be and a woman when he wants to look like a siren!


    Maia meow in reply to Hey Its Angel: I think you''re the one who needs to shut your mouth, homophobia! Anyway, your Brian has withdrawn from the race for personal reasons, which to me means that he has the self-awareness to know he can''t win, right? And you use siren as a derogatory term, homophobic?


    Libby Walker in reply to Maia meow: --In my opinion there is nothing to argue about. The only male model who has a fighting chance with Alice is Brian Moss, as evidenced by his first hard photo of the masked ball. After he left, Ashton and Marvin, two male models who walk around with one expression, wanted to win the title? Dream on.


    ......


    Hetaliarulz: I heard Brian used to be a jazz dancer in a commercial dance company? No wonder he knows his golden angle so well. Hehehe, would love to see a show of his.


    OddUndeniably replied to Hetaliarulz: You''re welcome.


    olivia bairstow: I love the one of Brian and Chris together the most! It''s so sensational. I don''t know why, but that hard photo of the two of them was the only male/male team in that issue. Can''t wait for this season of America''s Next Top Model to air!


    Life-And-Golfishes replied to olivia bairstow: I personally still prefer the one of Brian and Jamie, two of the most polarizing men in the same photo, or that kind of theme. I''ve printed that one myself as a poster and stuck it above my bed.


    I made a point of comparing the messages under my own page with the other models and I guessed correctly. The popularity that should have decreased after I dropped out, because of the regret inside the fans who had been following me, was growing with each passing day.


    Because these fans who felt sorry for me would share the hard photos on the official website and the video of the last shot commercial to their friends via Facebook and Twitter. This sharing and retweeting created a butterfly effect. The number of people discussing the page grew.


    I started to plan into the next step of keeping up my popularity.


    Unlike the Asian variety showbiz scene, the European and American showbiz scene is very simple in composition. Those who sing sing, those who act act, and rarely do they inter-act. In contrast, Korean and Japanese entertainment idols are well versed in everything, hosting, singing and acting in variety shows. Their high television appearances make it easy for them to maintain their popularity among their fans.


    I, on the other hand, plan to win with my appearances. I wanted to take advantage of the fact that the name Bryan Moss was being searched for at the height of the America''s Next Top Model contest to get more personal information about myself and keep the fans interested.

 CH 19

    While the popular entertainment and fashion worlds are not paying attention, the video site, Oil Tube, is flying high with videos that are made and uploaded by young people themselves. Most of these videos feature beauty and fashion instruction, or funny prank clips of their own making.


    Once there are tens of thousands of tube owners following the channel, the editor in charge of the tube will send a backstage message inviting them to join the tube and sign up with the tube company. After signing up, the channel owner will get a share of the views of the videos they upload. Many channel owners who have millions of followers have even made video filming for the tube their official job.


    Channel owners are also divided into different types of channels depending on the subject of their videos. There are female channel owners in the beauty and fashion category, male channel owners in the game commentary category, pure travel video diaries and original music or cover artists.


    The easiest and most popular of these channels are those run by good-looking young men.


    The videos they upload are usually either a record of the day''s events, edited into a ten-minute or less video, or they create their own video theme that is popular in the tube and shoot it.


    These themes are usually the type that show their sense of humour, such as extracting questions from fans in the comments to give funny and personal answers, some amusing little challenges, marshmallow challenges, one truth and two lies and the like. It''s very simple and anyone can do it, but naturally people are more interested in following some eye catching and humorous young channel owners.


    On top of that, there are meet and greet events organised by the Oil Tube and some of its partner companies or groups, and these events can easily be attended by over a few thousand people. Fans just want to take pictures and sign autographs with famous channel owners on the tube. It''s not much more than a small book signing.


    So, I''m going to create my own channel and make a photo diary of my daily life and upload it once a week. It won''t take much of my time, but it will keep me in the public eye more often. And the contract will not be as binding as that of a modeling agency.


    It satisfies the interest of young people who have nothing better to do than surf the internet and pry into the daily lives of celebrities, while keeping my face and name in the eyes of my fans.


    The upfront investment is a bit high for me, with expenses like digital cameras and reflectors, and the time it takes to edit the video. But if I could take advantage of America''s Next Top Model and get my YouTube page tens of thousands of followers, it would be an easy and free time job if I could get signed to YouTube.


    I bought a not-so-expensive digital camera to do my daily shooting.


    On my way to the plane to San Francisco, I took the camera and made my first selfie video. I took the camera here and there and recorded. The journey was as leisurely as if I were travelling, making me almost hypnotise myself into forgetting about Mike.


    The card that the agent had left for me, saying ''call me when you get a lead'', was left in the empty tenement. I don''t think I would have wanted to be associated with the FBI if I didn''t have to.


    In the FBI, where there are a lot of capable people, I''d be considered a potential criminal after more than ten years in a mental health facility and still be locked up for that kind of reason. I''d even like to be able to completely insulate my private life from the FBI''s attention when I go to Stanford if I can.


    It was 10pm when I left the airport, but luckily the car rental company had already brought the car I had rented in advance to the airport. Driving myself through Pala Alto, where Stanford is located, saved me a lot of hassle with transfers.


    I opened the door with the key I had received in the mail from my landlord, and as I moved my luggage into the flat one by one, ready to close the door, I suddenly held my breath and froze.


    A thin piece of fishing line had somehow wrapped itself around my neck, and by the time I noticed it had tightened to the point where my skin felt painful.


    "Hi Brian sweetie! Are you happy to see me?" A familiar voice rang out from behind me. It was accompanied by a not-so-loud slamming sound, "ping."


    I never thought I''d fall through the cracks this easily. He''d simply been hiding in the dead space behind the door, and I''d been so on edge from all those damned FBI guys, that I''d arrived in a new city and suddenly slacked off, forgetting I should have checked the house first!


    "Mai...or should I call you David Vincent?" I held up my hands on either side of my head to show I wasn''t rebelling and slowly straightened up and spoke.


    "Or how about calling me Mike? Didn''t Brian dear just talk on the phone a while ago, why the rusty tone?" David''s tone seemed to be the same as the man who used to run to my house for afternoon tea every afternoon, but the tightening of the neck of my neck to the point where I could feel the fish line sinking into my flesh was telling me otherwise.


    "Mike, listen. I''m not being followed or bugged by any FBI right now, and I haven''t told them anything about your whereabouts..." the pain in my neck cleared my head more and more, and the moment of panic I felt at realising I was caught in the fishing line and the murderous intent inside Brian was forced down.


    "Shhh...of course I know...of course I know, Brian..." the line pulled back hard pulling a deeper line of blood around my neck, and it was all I could do to keep my body from falling backwards with David''s force in order to not have my throat slit just like that I fell backwards.


    I slammed into the arms of this man who was nearly a head taller than me, and David was able to smoothly wrap another loop of fishing line around my neck to make it easier for him to apply pressure over a short distance.


    His breath came against my ear, the sound of his vigorous breathing from the arousal of my senses sending a chill running up my spine and I shivered involuntarily.


    "You''re not one of those pussies, you''re still my best friend, not to mention you have a soul as cold as mine! How could I kill you just like that?" David rubbed his nose against the hair behind my ear and even took my earlobe in his mouth.


    It was disgusting...Mike like that really made me feel so sick...


    This feeling of helplessness brought me back to the night I died. That fucking perverted murderer had done something so similar... Maybe everyone else was a peach in their fate and I was a pervert in mine?


    I can''t believe I''ve put myself back in this situation again! The feeling of self-loathing made my heart clench, and the bloodthirsty murderous intent of Brian that I had forced down came rushing back into my mind.


    My hand tightened on David''s arm as he tugged at the line, my hand trembling a little uncontrollably as I knew that my little life was now literally being yanked so easily into the other man''s hands that I couldn''t do anything rash.


    "So...what do you want, Mike?" I asked in a strong, patient whisper, only trying to show him that I was obedient.


    "I''m hungry, Brian. How about making me a late night snack?" An unexpected question came out of his mouth and I froze for a moment, rushing to say yes as the fishing line around my neck tried to tighten again.


    At the moment, I still had two loops of line around my neck that could have killed me by suffocation, the end of the line being tugged in one of David''s hands while I was making a snack for this adder.


    "You''re not planning on just staying here after you eat, are you Mike." I asked, pretending to be offhanded as I tossed the vegetables in the pan.


    David, who was standing beside me with one hand tugging on his fishing line and the other in his shirt pocket watching me cook, gave me a meaningful look and said back, unexpectedly and reasonably, "Sure. Would I leave a live Brian to sneak off to the police with me unchecked?"


    I choked and the room was silent for half a day, the only sound being the zipping of vegetables in a stir fry.


    "You think I''d commit harboring for you?" I poured the saut¨¦ed vegetables from the pan onto the plate David had brought.


    David shrugged and said with an innocent look on his face, "Of course, is there any way you could call the police now that your little life is in my hands? And I sometimes think it might be a good plan to have an extra assistant. If you want to learn how to hunt too, I won''t hesitate to teach you, Brian." And he smiled and winked at me.


    What an assistant, what a hunter...just a serial killer who can''t control his innermost desires...how could I let myself follow my innermost desires and end up in that position...


    I''m not that kind of person.


    As I ate the snack, the fishing line around my neck was untied by David and I began to think of a way to escape. I was regretting it now, regretting my avoidance of the FBI the day before. God knew David would come running to me, despite the risk of being caught.


    A million ideas swept through my mind, but the success rate of any of them was still less than thirty percent.


    "How did you know I''d be staying here and come here beforehand to keep watch?" I asked the well-fed murderer sitting at the table behind me as I finished eating and washed my plate.


    "I went to your house to help you clean out your mailbox before that fucking asshole kid got caught dealing drugs. Found the key and address details your landlord had mailed you. I didn''t hesitate to match a spare, of course!" David sounded very happy.


    Damn...no wonder I felt that envelope was so wrinkled and worn, it had fallen into his hands. But what could I do now but blame myself for being careless.


    Seeing that David seemed to have given up trying to kill me for the moment, I began to take the opportunity to try to return the two of them to the old pattern of getting along, with him pretending to be Mike in front of me. "Mike since you''re going to board my house, I''ll have you know that I''m here for school and you can''t stop me from going to school. Otherwise you might as well just kill me here and dump my body."


    I said the last sentence in a seemingly unconcerned tone, but in fact my throat was a little dry and itchy. I touched my throat, the fish line hadn''t cut deep enough earlier to stop the bleeding, except that the oozing blood from earlier was still running down my neck.


    David looked unconcerned and nodded, "I''ll get you to school of course, up and coming Brian. Only until then, you''ll have to be an accomplice with me. Stanford isn''t supposed to start until next week is it?"


    What he meant was that when my hands were as dirty as his, he naturally wouldn''t worry about me turning myself in to the police. Well, of course I knew that David wasn''t stupid enough to just let me go to school.


    "Your tastes are nothing like mine, Mike! How would I get pleasure from killing those women that way?" I tried to convince him with the ideas that were taken for granted in his head.


    "Oh, looks like that condescends to my little Brian." David had a my fault my fault look on his face, "Then you can watch beside me and clean up the body together when it''s over. By the way, how about slipping this on as a nightgown at home?"


    He just pulled out a white chiffon woman''s nightgown from the backpack he was carrying and dropped it on the table, the chest part of the dressing gown was stained with some blood and had darkened by now.


    "Is this your last victim''s clothing?!" The words of disgust came out of my mouth subconsciously before the feeling of being insulted could even hit my head.


    I hadn''t really known that he now had a fetish for collecting victims'' clothing in addition to their ring finger bones.


    "Heh..." said David, looking at my reaction with amusement, "Sure. I saw the video you took at that game, it worked out well. How''s that for a quid pro quo for not letting you do it yourself? Just be honest and do as I say at home."


    You...pervert...the words went around my mouth so many times that I almost cursed them out. In the end, I didn''t say it.


    Because I didn''t want him to think that the other victims who had fallen into his hands were the same and deepen his unrealistic desires. I suppose the women who died under him didn''t say that too often.

 CH 20

    "Let go... ah! ...Okay, okay, I''ll put it on myself..."


    I had only just emerged from the bathroom when I opened the door and ran into David, who had been waiting for me for a long time, and was twisted and pinned back against the sink in two or three strokes. It was because I had put on the robe I had brought with me, not the bloodstained dress he had given me.


    David loosened his grip on me because I begged for mercy, but the man remained stubbornly standing there, obviously wanting to see me put it on with his own eyes.


    "Mike... even if you want me to wear a woman''s dress..." with a complicated expression I picked up the nightgown whose owner had been dead for who knows how many days, "but next time could you not make it so disgustingly stained with someone else''s blood ..."


    David stood in the doorway of the bathroom with his arms around me, clearly not letting me out until I changed into it. I had no choice but to turn around and take off my robe in front of him.


    It was an incredibly natural move, but I was suddenly embarrassed when I felt a substantial gaze fall on my panty-less focus. I hadn''t seen him take any particular interest in me when we used to change backstage at the dance company every day.


    I was furious at the sight of him and I sped up my change into the deadly dress. The moment I put it on, the faint smell of blood enveloped my body.


    A normal person would have subconsciously recoiled at the smell of blood, but Brian''s senses in my body were awakened by the rare smell of human blood, as if I had been given a psychedelic drug.


    "Mmmm...!" With a wobble I was grabbed from behind by David, one of his arms wrapped around mine so I couldn''t move, and one hand brushing up against the jaw of my cheek. I couldn''t help but grunt in pain.


    "Looking at you in the mirror, I don''t know why it always makes me picture you as a woman. Or the woman most to my liking. Maybe you should regret going to that modeling contest..." David locked eyes with me from the mirror and restrained me in his arms like a control freak.


    I had to admit that David really wasn''t lying. I didn''t have very well-defined features to begin with, and I really did look a bit like a short-haired woman in this deadly nightgown. But even though my body looked slim, we both knew that I actually had fast, well-defined muscles under the dress.


    "You know full well that I''m not a woman, don''t kid yourself, Mike." The part of me that was Brian awoke at the smell of blood, my heart count rose and the words that came out were no longer going around from my head three times before they came out, they started to become uncontrollable.


    I broke out of his grip with one hand and took David''s hand that was stroking my cheek, guiding him down my body as if I had performed it a thousand times on stage with such skill. Then I grabbed his hand and pressed it there underneath me.


    "Heh, you''re really unforgiving, Brian." David seemed to get a little angry at this move on my part as his arms around me tightened and his hand pressing there gave me an even harder grip.


    "AHHHH!!!" I couldn''t stop padding upwards in pain, "Let go! Mike..."


    "Isn''t that what you wanted? Hmm? ...I''d really like to castrate you, but unfortunately I''m afraid I''d accidentally kill you. I''d have a heart for you, Brian." I could tell by David''s expression in the mirror that he was enjoying torturing me, and our anxious glances in the mirror seemed to turn him on even more.


    "I think you''re one of my rare close friends, which is why I''ve resisted killing you outright. It''s only right that you behave yourself, Brian." David finally released his grip on my vital parts and instead played with the strands of hair that had fallen to my ears from the struggle.


    It was just the uncontrollable rise of murderous intent in me, but I knew that there was no way I could outwit my opponent anyway with David being so cautious and on my guard for so long.


    Maybe I shouldn''t have shunned the FBI so much in the first place. I regret it now beyond measure. Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, I would be unlucky enough to become a victim again.


    I told myself that this time I would have to wait for an opportunity, for a chance to get the FBI''s attention. If the FBI was continuing to monitor my online movements, then that might be the only breakthrough point. This time I wouldn''t fail again, I didn''t believe that God would let me die again under similar karma after giving me another chance to live.


    Lying on the only double bed in the room, my hands and both ankles were fastened by David with not-too-intrusive but very real plastic clasps that could not be easily broken off with nails and teeth. A much wiser choice than the bald one in my last life.


    After watching David come in from the shower, he helped me sit back on the bed and got out the hairdryer. Plugging it in, the hairdryer whined with hot air onto my head and waited to dry the ends of my almost dry hair as well before he started blowing his own hair.


    "You know it''s really hard for a young man my age to go a whole day without playing on his phone..." I relaxed against the bed, watching my murderer "best friend" whimpering on his hair next to me.


    "What did you say?" David asked, stopping the hair dryer.


    "I''d like to use my electronic devices..." I said bitterly, repeating the same thing as the previous sentence, but more directly.


    David gave me a snorting look and said, "Brian the little internet worm, I''ll play with you when I''m done blowing my head off. Do you know the password to the wifi account here?"


    I shook my head honestly.


    "Oh, that''s for sure. Because I lost the little note the landlord posted on the dining room table after I wrote it down." David added cheerfully before turning on the blowtorch again.


    Editing his video diary and uploading it to the oil pipe with a serial killer the FBI was hunting was such a unique experience that no one else would ever want to have in their lifetime. In particular, the video included a glimpse of the interior shot by David himself, as my hands and feet were snapped up by him with adhesive clasps.


    "What are you doing?" David swept me up against the bed and watched as I dragged the footage from the camera one by one into the video editing software.


    "Editing the video." I replied with a blank face.


    "So what are you getting this video for?" David rubbed his hand through my freshly washed, slightly damp so soft to the touch hair.


    "Uploading it to the oil pipe to keep the exposure. I''m going to keep selling my sex to make a living, I thought you knew that?" I looked at the man beside me who seemed to have fully recovered into Mike.


    David stared at me for half a second without moving his eyes and said, "So the bit I filmed for you is going to be added in? I did talk to you during the shoot."


    "Don''t worry, I''ll do away with the video soundtrack and put it on in the background for that bit." I said seemingly matter-of-factly, not showing any sign of weakness at all.


    In fact, my palms were slightly sweaty at this point. Because I did intend to tamper with the part David was filming so that the FBI monitoring my computer would find out about me in time.


    But I also knew there was no way David wouldn''t notice the part of the video he shot that left his voice behind. So I did add background music to that clip and gave him a check.


    But what he didn''t know was that while I put the background music on the video, I pretended to accidentally record the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard. Because I was typing with difficulty with my trapped hands, the one, two, three long, two short taps on the keyboard did not register with him.


    The sound of my seemingly mis-recorded keyboard delivered the words help, kill and hold in the most superficial form of Morse code. And it was repeated three times.


    The plan to use Morse code to convey the message was something I had tried to apply when I had inadvertently recalled, while David was in the shower earlier, the way the prisoner had passed messages to his accomplice when I had met Neil Caffrey assisting the FBI in the capture.


    David hadn''t noticed anything and took my penlight from me once the video was uploaded. "Time for bed, smart Brian."


    Sometimes I really hated how he always brought some adjective with him when he called me by my name. That sounded like it filled me with goosebumps, and I guess I''d be psyching myself up for that kind of name calling in the future.


    I rubbed myself against the bed and lay down, turning to leave my back to David. Then I felt him lie down too, putting his arm around my waist and snuffling the back of my neck.


    We both froze in the darkness for I don''t know how long, but eventually it was me who drifted off into sleep first, blurred by the day''s travels.


    In the morning, I awoke to a choking sensation and a heavy pressure. I opened my eyes to the blinding sunlight of the window and the shadowed outline of David''s deep features, his hands around my neck, riding my body.


    "Cough...cough..." I choked out, raising my hands to pull him away before I realised with a start that my hands had been fastened with adhesive clasps while I slept.


    David saw that I was awake, but released his own hands and rolled over off me. I struggled to get up to see that he was already all ready to go.


    "Is that how you wake people up?" My voice was hoarse with mockery and I could feel the wound on my neck that had healed last night, being torn open again.


    David raised an eyebrow seemingly in a good mood as he returned pleasantly, "No, that''s how I let people sleep forever." With that, he pulled a folding knife from the sandy boots on his feet and walked over to me yanking up my hands to cut the glue buckles, then both ankles.


    I rubbed my own wrists and got up from the bed, taking off the chiffon nightgown I was wearing as soon as I could in front of him. "I''m going to the supermarket today to buy some everyday items, do you want to tag along?"


    David bent down and picked up the dead dress I had casually thrown on the floor and rightfully returned, "Of course. It''s about time I looked for my next prey, if you don''t mind."


    Of course I did! Bloody murderer...


    I nodded expressionlessly, changed into a dark hoodie with black chinos that I didn''t usually wear under his watchful eye, and went to wash up again. I tried to dress as inconspicuously as possible, and put on a mask before I left the house.


    It was best to dress as suspiciously as possible, and it was best if I could be called in by the patrol.


    At the supermarket, I walked out with two large bags of stuff, David behind me with a black face carrying a dozen toilet papers and various vegetables and fruits. Then we saw David''s next target.


    A redheaded woman, who had just locked her car and was striding towards the supermarket, cursing the boy who was trotting behind her. It appeared to be her son, and she called him a mourner and a dragger.


    The woman, dressed as a career woman, was holding a mobile phone that appeared to have just ended its call and had not yet gone black. Then the phone rang, and she picked it up, her expression changing instantly to a full smile, and the tone in which she cursed the boy became gentle.


    She responded affectionately to the person on the phone and I heard her address the other person as darling and then mention the kid''s name, Tommy.


    "Honey, I''m taking Tommy to the supermarket. Well, it''s no trouble. . how come? Your son is going to be my son too."


    As she passed us, she saw David in a tight white t-shirt that didn''t hide his figure and winked at him. The child behind her, panting with tears in her eyes, ran past us.


    I knew David was locked on target, and even though I could tell the woman''s red hair was actually dyed, the instant change in the man''s scent behind me let me know that he was angry.


    Why?


    I had never analysed David''s deep psychology before, and because he used to hide it so well as Mike, this was the first time I''d seen him show his true outwardly leaking emotions.


    Maybe...that boy was once the epitome of his childhood? ...This is the most straightforward and simple inference, as the oppression of the mother pushes the otherwise young sociopathic personality to extremes. Many victims of serial killers are essentially the same types who once inflicted harm on them.


    There are many more vengeful serial killers than missionary serial killers, and apart from some being sexually extreme, most of the rest are the result of childhood shadows.


    I didn''t spell out my suspicions; it was the easiest way to anger David. It was better to be a silent lamb if I didn''t want to die yet.


    Sitting in the car, David drove. He watched the supermarket exit without a word, clearly intending to have a stalking session now. I couldn''t very well remind him that we had some frozen meat in the boot of the car that we needed to take home and freeze.


    I sat in the passenger seat and took out the magazine I''d bought, as David now had my mobile phone and the keys to my room.

 CH 21

    The red-haired woman was Jessica, stepmother to the boy called Tommy. The boy''s father was obviously a successful man, as they lived in a well-policed, upscale neighbourhood and seemed a homely family, with Jessica only showing her red-haired witch-like true colours in front of tommy when the male owner was away.


    It was too dangerous to stalk a target in a neighbourhood like this, with roadside surveillance cameras at every turn. If the family of the deceased called the police after the death of the target, the first thing the police would check would be the recordings from these security cameras.


    David obviously knew this all too well, and he didn''t try to stop when he first entered the lot in this neighbourhood; he identified which building Jessica''s house was by where she had parked, and then sped the car through Jessica''s house, eventually parking two blocks away.


    He took me back on foot to the caf¨¦ opposite Jessica''s house and sat there all afternoon. Not only did he observe Jessica''s every move from the uncurtained, living room window that faced out onto the street, but he also heard a lot of gossip from the housewives who drank afternoon tea around him.


    The housewives, who loved parenting, mentioned Jessica not a few times, and she seemed to be the latest hot topic around here. A great example of a subordinate secretary who has made it to the top and turned a sparrow into a phoenix.


    I would have thought that David would have been more cautious in his next offence because he had only just escaped from a joint FBI and police search. The longer it took to get away, the more likely it was that the distress message in the video I uploaded to the tube would be discovered.


    But what made me miscalculate was that David was very confident in his modus operandi these days, as his exposure this time was not due to the discovery of the place where the body was buried, but just a coincidence like getting a ticket for parking wrong. So, in the rush of wanting to tie me to his chariot, on the third day of stalking Jessica, David offered to do it.


    When it came down to it, for some reason it was hard for my heart to waver too much. It was as if watching a stranger face a life-threatening crisis didn''t really matter much to me. I was becoming more and more singular in my emotional appeals, influenced by Brian''s personality.


    As he prepared to leave the house, David brought a bag containing a tennis racket, his knives and the tools he would need to clean up the scene of the crime. And the fishing line, which he uses most of the time, was tucked away in his pocket. I was still wearing the hoodie with the mask. Only the trousers had been replaced with a pair of gym trousers that I usually wear to the gym.


    It was dusk, the time of day when Jessica, who liked to play the role of the good wife and mother, went to pick up tommy from school alone after work. David pulls up in my rental car on Jessica''s way from home to tommy''s school.


    "You know what? How could I have exposed my identity so easily if it wasn''t for those stupid police who applied for the help of the bau team in the first place. Resulting in me having to roam around like a bereaved dog today!" David''s mental state was unbelievably excited before he committed the crime, and he couldn''t stop talking as he sat in the car waiting for his prey.


    My heart skipped a beat and I could only pretend to be unconcerned, propping my head on one hand and looking out the window at the hordes of students walking past. I tapped my fingers on the window and said, "Oh, bau? That famous fbi division that specialises in serial killers? Since they found out who you were, how did you escape the search then?"


    Thanks to the previous FBI agent''s slip of the tongue, I had the idea of learning a little about the bau team. So, I now knew the identity of each agent in this operation team by heart. This is because of their outstanding detection rate, and the FBI''s policy of publicising them. The internet was full of detailed information about them.


    "Oh..." I returned noncommittally, "And when did you start killing people?" In an effort not to show my disinterest, I casually asked the question while my mind began to recall information about the group.


    The bau team was made up of a bunch of geniuses from all walks of life and could be described as the little angels that saved police everywhere from serial killer cases.


    The most notable of these was a senior chief profiler named Jason Gideon, who I''ve seen give presentations to university psychology departments everywhere on various channels, and although he''s not exactly in his prime anymore, he''s still the most dangerous to our kind. This is because of his vast knowledge, his vast experience, and his excellent profiling skills.


    Then there was Aaron Hotchner, who headed up the bau team and I''m told was a sharpshooter. Then there was a Derek Morgen, who was very good in close quarters combat. Other than that, there was really no more character at bau who could pose a threat to David.


    The youngest genius, the young Doctor, Spencer Ryder, holds three PhDs (in chemistry, mathematics and engineering), as well as a BA in psychology, philosophy and sociology, has an IQ of 187 and an extraordinarily clear memory. It was just a shame that his physical skills were a concern.


    David snorted and pulled back my attention. He continued, "Haven''t you always wondered what my life was like five years ago? ...Five years ago, I was just a cashier at a burger joint, working early and late every day just to support my alcoholic mother!"


    "Oh...and then what?" Everything he said was so close to my suspicions that it made me interested in his words again.


    David glanced at me, "And then she died. I didn''t kill her, of course. Sudden death from a myocardial infarction due to excessive drinking. Oh, it just so happened that my girlfriend had also broken up with me at that time and turned around and married a rich middle-aged businessman."


    "So you chose to kill her?" I forced myself to hold back my disgusted revulsion at him and inquire more deeply. The nice illusion of Mike that he had once pretended to be in front of me was long gone.


    "That''s right! I kidnapped her on her way from work and I didn''t want to kill her at first... but I couldn''t resist! Hahahaha, that shameless woman with her daily rants against me ...... Then I realised... it''s better to be a quiet woman! Not as disgusting and tiresome as my mother!" David''s eyes sparkled and he looked like a child who had just gotten a new toy.


    "I killed her,...with my own hands! Strangled her with my own two hands! ...Heh, watching her lips turn blue in the choking... her eyes so desperate! Such a quietly beautiful face ...... I wanted to keep her in my memories so I couldn''t resist killing one more, after another..." David described his experience excitedly, his eyes still eagerly seeking my approval.


    I felt my face stiffen a little and the feeling of revulsion made me swallow uncontrollably. At this point in time, Brian''s indifferent disposition towards others was like a protective film that brought me well back from reflexively holding my breath and choking.


    I didn''t answer his words, but I could feel a faint smile put on my otherwise stiff face...and David looked at me as if he thought that was my answer.


    "That twat who followed up my case, it seems her name was something like Elle Greenoway was hot. Unfortunately a woman is a woman, I was watching her break down in panic there because she lost track of me." David got even more smug as he began to share with me his experiences of escaping the FBI.


    Speaking of Elle Greenaway, she was also a bau person, a sex crime expert. It did seem right to put this woman in charge of David''s case.


    Actually Brian''s personality wasn''t all bad, or at least the effect he sometimes had on me was like a protective armour that was snapped around the periphery of my personality that had become vulnerable in certain circumstances.


    If I could one day stay sober enough to perform a personality fusion and actually disabuse Brian of his murderous intent and turn him, or myself, back into a normal person who could fit in, then what did it matter if I carried some sociopathic personality traits? After all, which of those business tycoons and successful people didn''t have some sociopathic personality traits?


    I had been resistant and defiant to Brian''s personality, because for a moment just now, that strange way in which Brian''s mind merged with my own, made me change my mind.


    If Brian''s will to involve me in his bloody path was turned to my advantage, the ego of the sociopathic personality was so strong that this will would also be an advantage in discarding his bloodthirsty desire. And merging my personalities into one would only make my mental environment more stable.


    Since Brian had been trying to fuse with me, why didn''t I turn the tables on him and do the personality fusion in a way that I stood to dominate?


    But now was not the time to think about that. I wonder if the bau team that took over David''s case has found the information I left in that video diary, or not. bau, as part of the FBI''s National Centre for the Analysis of Violent Crime, has always had a ninety percent or higher detection rate. I can''t believe they would just let me, who looks like the most suspicious lead person, off the hook.


    It was a bit funny that I, who had shunned bau not so long ago, now wanted them to come to my side immediately.


    David had hidden his tracks well, but I hadn''t. If they can spot that distress message, it''s only a matter of time before they find us.


    The best case scenario was that they had already discovered something was wrong and were on their way. That way I wouldn''t have to risk going up against this dangerous murderer. But if they haven''t found out yet, am I really going to be forced to be an accomplice?


    Wouldn''t that be the end of all the hard work I''d been doing?


    Before I could make up my mind, David had seen the sound of his target. Not far away, Jessica was viciously hitting tommy, who was walking with her head buried, as she turned off the main road into the alley we were in. Damn!


    David stopped rambling under his breath for a moment and pulled on the muzzle that had been hanging from his chin. I, too, hastily used my hand to make sure my own mask was indeed on. Was this woman destined to die.


    The facts tell us that it''s better to take shortcuts and walk down sparsely populated alleys to save time.


    I covered the mouth of the terrified boy tommy and took him to the car, knocked out on David''s instructions. And the redhead named Jessica had long since passed out from asphyxiation from David''s strangulation with fishing line. The whole thing took just under two minutes and they didn''t make a sound that would draw attention to themselves.


    David sped off in his car towards the countryside, while I had to do what he had told me to do and restrain Jessica and tommy by tying their hands behind their backs. The tape to seal their mouths was taken from his tennis bag.


    In the three days since I arrived in Pala Alto, I hadn''t been anywhere else with David except for that one trip to the supermarket and the start of stalking this woman. As the car drove further and further out of the way, I had long since lost my adrenaline rush to the location we were in.

 CH 22

    The serial killer who escaped justice three years ago, David Vincent, was found by local police in Miami, Florida. The reason turned out to be because a colleague had been caught dealing drugs, and then the police followed the trail and found out that he was using an alias. Once they got a photo to compare, it was revealed.


    David Vincent''s escape has always been said to be a disgrace to the bau team''s perfect crime solving rate. Although the killer was identified, the case has been left open because of the inefficient operation of the FBI and the police due to their difficult cooperation.


    A small Gulfstream iv-sp airliner was flying at 10,000 metres to Miami.


    "This time I''m going to bring that fucking bastard to justice!" Al Greenaway slammed the file in his hand onto the table in a fit of rage.


    "Calm down Al," Jason Gideon had been the backbone of the bau team, "I remember that David Vincent, who goes by Mike in the profile, has a known buddy in the dance crew? Can he give us a lead?"


    "Brian Moss, who was also on the set of America''s Next Top Model at the time of the murder, has a good alibi. It shouldn''t be possible for him to help David get away." Aaron Hotchner, head of the bau team, interjected, "And they knew each other, two years ago. Mike had been in the Chippendale dance group for over a year at that point."


    "But we shouldn''t give up on this lead so easily!" Al was very anxious about getting David caught, since three years ago was the case she was primarily responsible for. "Reed, what do you think?"


    Spencer Ryder, the schoolboy, had been sitting quietly next to her, looking through the information casually. When he heard Al call his name, he looked up and said, "I looked at Brian Moss''s file and what makes it strange is his resume. Because his experience up until two years ago was all blank."


    "What?! Could it be another fugitive from justice?" Al took a surprised stride over and picked up the file Reed had placed on his desk.


    Jason''s first thought at his words was not to also pick up Brian''s file again and check it out. He turned to Morgan who had been sitting silent at the other end and said, "Morgan, call Garcia on the satellite phone. Have her pull the video recording of Brian Moss'' interrogation directly from the Miami police database."


    Brian was in no way expecting the bau team to be on to something suspicious about him when they had only just taken over the case and hadn''t even flown to Miami yet. Surely Brian would be grateful for being targeted for this now.


    Garcia was quick, and within five minutes of Morgan''s call, Jason received a video file on his computer. bau team members gathered around.


    The monitor placed in the interrogation room recorded Brian''s conversation with the two FBI agents.


    "While it''s true that I''m the closest person to Mike, I don''t know much about his personal life." In an atmosphere of solemn urgency, Brian looked relaxed and natural.


    "You should know that harbouring a suspect is suspicious of obstruction!" The fbi agents pressed on.


    "Of course, if you don''t have to talk to me in that tone, I can still think of leads for you more responsibly until my lawyer arrives." There was an offended look on Brian''s face. "Mind you I''m not your suspect, I was under the camera every second of the time Mike was missing."


    "You! ..." one of the FBI agents was about to open his mouth to say something, but there was an interruption by Brian Moss''s next words.


    "It was the only call that was done with cameras monitoring it all." Brian snorted, "I can''t believe you guys didn''t request to see it with the show. And did you guys see anything wrong with it? I have every right to appeal your misconduct for extracting such a harsh confession from a completely innocent citizen."


    Brian raised an eyebrow, looking amused. But Jason Gideon frowned as he noticed that this Brian Moss seemed familiar with this similar scenario. But he was not recorded in the police crime files, and the possibility of using a false name could be suspected.


    Besides, Bryan Moss was too fond of taking the initiative in conversations, wasn''t he?


    "Well," Brian rested his hands on the table and leaned his body back towards the back of his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk. "Mike does have a hobby. He likes to go out fishing every now and then, and he''s invited me to go. But I turned it down. He befriended everyone in the dance group, but rarely spoke deeply."


    "On every Friday night, he would go out night fishing. In those days his phone was out of order. But I''ve never been to his house. So even if you had taken me there, I couldn''t have told you any more clues. If you suspect me on that basis, you will probably be disappointed. I really don''t know anything about what he''s done." Brian concluded.


    After that, Brian Moss stopped talking, no matter how much more the fbi''s questioned him. It didn''t take long for his lawyer to arrive and take him out.


    "Wow, looks like this Brian Moss is a pro after all." Derrick Morgan commented with amusement, rubbing his chin.


    "I thought his file said he was self-taught to get into Stanford and took psychology." Reed opened his mouth and recited all of Brian''s file after the video ended. "But before that, he didn''t provide any record of attending any elementary high school. The column for relatives is also filled in as none. It''s like he came out of nowhere two years ago."


    "Even the tax number was applied for then." Al took Brian''s information and added to it.


    "There''s no way an eighteen-year-old orphan could have been without a tax ID after sixteen. What else did he do to support himself?" Morgan pointed out.


    Seeing this, Aaron Hotchner picked up the satellite phone again and connected to the HQ computer technical support department. "Garcia."


    "Hey! Penelope Garcia is here to talk to you! What can I do for you again, boss?" came Garcia''s energetic voice on the other end of the line.


    "Can you check this Bryan Moss''s records from two years ago? It''s possible he''s using a false name." Hotchner said.


    "Oh, sure! I actually got my hands on him when I sent you the video just before." Garcia said smugly, "He wasn''t using a fake name. Brian Moss, just got released from a local mental hospital in Miami two years ago. Don''t know what got him in there, the file seems to have been wiped clean."


    "He was in the asylum for over ten years and was released once about five years ago, but quickly went back because he lost control. Got out again two years ago and was known only as a young man with serious sociopathic tendencies!" Garcia added, "But he looks so handsome! The profile says he went to America''s Next Top Model, is that true?!!! That''s going to be a great season ......"


    Garcia''s call instantly silenced everyone in the plane who had been excited, and both Morgan and Al couldn''t help but look at Red with the rest of their eyes. For everyone was aware of his mother''s situation.


    It was Gideon who spoke first, "It seems we misunderstood him after all. There were no records before simply because he does live in isolation."


    "And there''s an explanation for his calmness in the face of interrogation." Reed forced a smile and pretended to be unconcerned, "In the mental hospital, he faced I don''t know how many times a day a psychiatrist would question and study him like that. Shouldn''t we start by investigating where exactly David went fishing when we get to Miami?"


    "Maybe his residence will give us clues to enlighten us." Hotchner interjected.


    After the BAU team arrived in Miami, their investigation came to a standstill. As he had three years ago, David Vincent had sniffed around without leaving a trace. They couldn''t even figure out if David had killed anyone in those three years yet.


    David Vincent''s fishing gear was very new, with only a few bundles of used fishing line left behind. Before he left, his car had even been carefully cleaned, leaving not a hair or a speck of dust behind.


    It was lunch break at the Miami Police headquarters.


    Reed approached Al, who was sitting at his computer, with a sandwich in hand, "What are you reading Al?"


    "Garcia recommended I go to the official America''s Next Top Model contest website and look at the hard pictures of that Brian we misunderstood earlier. Well, it looks like he''s got quite a bit of power." Al''s mouse was landing on a hard photo of Brian and Chris working together. "That''s a shame, if it wasn''t for what happened with David, I think he would have had a good chance at the title."


    Curious, Reed also probed into the computer screen, just as Al clicked on the next page. Then Brian appeared for the last round, which was a video of a perfume ad with a model''s gender reversed.


    "I really don''t see what''s so great about this kind of ad, claptrap theme." Reed pointed to Dan''s bearded, girly image with another blonde hairdo.


    Then the mouse pulled down. Both men suddenly paused.


    "Is it just me, Red?" Al said suddenly. "This woman Brian''s pretending to be is too much like...more than too much like a woman...more like..."


    "More like David''s usual target!" Reed said aloud, straightening up and looking around for Gideon and Hotchner.


    Yeah! How had they never thought of that? Brian and David''s befriending, apart from the speculation that they might be in cahoots, there was certainly the possibility that David had his eye on Brian!


    And if David had happened to see this image of Brian while he was on the run...


    "Red, Al! Pack up, we''re leaving for San Francisco." Aaron Hotchner hurried in through the door. "Garcia just called to say that she found a video diary that Brian uploaded to the Tubes the other day! The diary had a distress message conveyed by Brian in the background. Morse code."


    Jason Gideon also came over at this point, holding a printed copy of the information. "I questioned Brian Moss''s landlord and she said that David had made a trip to Brian''s house not long ago to help him collect his mail. Since Brian rented the house near Stanford University in advance, the new landlord would have mailed the keys and full address in advance."


    "He knows where Brian is!"

 CH 23

    It was a small abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, deserted for a kilometre. David dragged Jessica out of the car and into the factory as if he were unloading a load or pulling a pig into a slaughterhouse.


    I was going to ask David to leave the boy tommy in the car, but before I could say anything he was already directing me to take the boy with me to the warehouse.


    Heh, unlucky boy. Maybe he''s about to see his mother murdered, just like Brian did. He should be glad that I had the good sense to make the decision.


    Yes, letting an innocent woman die in front of me to save my own skin. That was beyond my boundaries. Though the woman was mean and unpleasant. I hugged the boy and smiled softly. Brian seemed to be telling me he was relieved too.


    Placing tommy in a far corner, several metres from the workbench where David was determined to get his hands dirty, was as far away as it was possible to get. Jessica, in shock from asphyxiation, was casually thrown to the floor by the workbench as David unzipped the tennis racket bag and pulled from it an oversized diameter roll of supermarket bought cling film.


    The unfolded cling film was wide and large, and I guess the reason David chose the tennis racket bag was to hold it. The cling film was indeed a good way to avoid leaving blood at the scene, and no matter how much the victims struggled, any traces of their fallen hair, dander, or David himself, would not be left at the scene.


    In retrospect, it''s very similar to the technique Sheriff Harry handed to my dear brother Dexter then. It''s probably common sense enough for everyone.


    David fingered the clingfilm in his hand and gestured for me to come over and help. I walked over to him and pulled on the corner of the wrap, feeling a bit of a novelty.


    The unfolded wrap was laid out on the worktop and David used a knife to pick open the adhesive clasp that had been holding Jessica''s hands together. Tossed back and forth, Jessica looked like she was about to wake up.


    David took out a pair of pharmacy-bought surgical gloves and tossed them to me, putting them on himself. Then I was asked to help him set the woman up. He began to take off Jessica''s professional suit with gusto, like a Barbie doll, and folded it neatly, placing it next to his tennis bag.


    The feeling of being plastered by a naked woman was disgusting, so after he had completed this series of actions, I couldn''t wait to set Jessica down on the clingfilm-wrapped workbench. Jessica''s hands were re-attached by adhesive clasps, which also articulated the other end and secured it to the edge of the workbench.


    Finally, the woman woke up. In a daze, she noticed the figure of David standing by the workbench and let out a shrill scream. The shrill sound made me take several steps back to get away from the source of the noise. Then I heard the sound of shaky breathing from behind me where tommy was.


    y was awake, and he was pretending to be asleep. I knew it, but I wasn''t about to expose him. It was better to keep my eyes closed the whole time than to watch this man for the knife and me for the fish. Dexter had Brian to cover his eyes, and Brian had to watch...


    So...how could he be blamed for that? People blame the naivety in his eyes for not being there, for forcibly separating him from his own brother, forcing Brian, who had only lost one family member, to lose another. Without the only pillar of support left in his heart, little Brian was locked up alone in a horrible, gloomy mental institution.


    "Hmmm..." a heavy shadow appeared in front of my eyes and a sharp nerve pain in my head made a sound that I couldn''t control.


    Brian''s memories and mine kept intersecting and overlapping, and the sights that appeared in my mind, combined with Jessica''s unmistakable shrill screams, made me feel as if my head was about to explode.


    Jessica''s scream was abruptly cut off and I dropped my hand over my ears to look over. David, with a grin that looked like madness on his face, was enjoying himself as he put his hand around Jessica''s neck.


    The woman with her hands bound flopped around the workbench like a tuna fish. David watched Jessica''s expression before he glanced up at me, gesturing for me to come to his side.


    "Cut off this woman''s ring-wearing finger, now!" David said with a sharp intake of breath and a mad laugh in his voice. "I''ve never tried to cut off a person''s finger while they''re alive!!!"


    My hands trembled next to my thighs as I walked over to him and knelt down to pick up the knife he kept in his tennis racket bag.


    .........


    Then, I could clearly see David''s man-thirsty gaze as he gazed deeply at me, and Jessica''s body jerked in pain before her eyes rolled white and she fainted again.


    I watched as David leaned down and brushed the tip of his nose under Jessica''s, testing to see if she was still breathing. The posture was that of a jackal who has succeeded in preying. At this point the boy''s breathing was nothing at all, perhaps frightened.


    "Take off your gloves." David dropped the finger into his tennis bag and raised the ring to his mouth and stuck out his tongue to clean the blood from it.


    I seemed to have a vague inkling of what he was going to do and placed the knife in my hand seemingly casually on the workbench, within my reach. Then I took off my left glove.


    "No, right hand." David corrected. Yes, a woman wears a ring on her right hand, unlike a man.


    I obediently let him grasp my hand, the cold feeling in the palm of my hand perhaps he felt it. He snorted, and with force, he slipped the ring, which wasn''t actually quite my size, hard onto the ring finger of my right hand.


    "Now come and take off the clothes you''re wearing and change into this dress." David held up the dress he had just removed from the woman.


    Because of the experience of having worked with David in a dance company, I would not have been embarrassed by taking off my clothes in front of him. But this time the sight of David was unbearable.


    I put on the ol'' outfit, which was sexually flirty even for a woman, and again, at David''s request, did not even avoid putting on those stockings, and then I stepped towards him on my heels and, with a clattering sound, pretended not to notice and once again took the folding knife that I had put aside casually in my hand.


    "Come on, stand in front of me. Let me watch you!" As he spoke, David took out his fishing line and expertly slipped it around Jessica''s neck, twice, securely.


    I stood to his left, close enough, close enough for me to take his life when he was defenceless! But I wasn''t going to do that, I was only going to stop him. I didn''t want to become a monster like him.


    "Okay, Mike." I replied in a low voice.


    Then David''s hands started to push harder and harder to the sides, the fishing line wrapped around Jessica''s neck getting tighter and tighter.


    I watched as she looked at David and I with wide dead eyes, her throat making gurgling noises and the fishing line cutting into the flesh at the nape of her neck. She struggled desperately, her legs kicking out of thin air.


    "Hahahahahahahahahaha, look! Brian, look! How beautiful! Still the quiet women are the best...just like when you''re asleep ...... ahhhhhh £¡£¡£¡£¡"


    As David lost his guard from being so involved, I lifted my leg and ran the heels on my foot viciously into his focal point. Nothing could be more damaging than a kick to a man''s vitals.


    He eagerly tried to back up and curl into a ball, but the fishing line wrapped around his hand restricted his movement. In order not to suffocate Jessica in his struggle, he was strangled to death. I picked the line off with two strokes of that quick knife and David flew and fell out.


    I stepped in front of him and shone a flying kick into his jaw.


    Jessica''s shoes were too small for her size and flew out with my movement. David also spurted blood out of his mouth. Afraid he would recover again, I crushed his hand hard with the only shoe left.


    "Ahhhhhhhhhhh £¡£¡£¡£¡£¡ Brian you!!! ......" I watched as his pupils faded and finally passed out from the pain.


    I hastily shook off the only shoes left on my feet and woefully rushed barefoot to his tennis racket bag and rummaged through it to find two rubber buckles. Not caring in the slightest that my bare feet were bleeding from cuts on the ground from shards of glass. Only by limiting his movements completely could I rest assured.


    Finally, with all the strength I could muster, I bound the unconscious David''s hands together.


    "Ping £¡£¡£¡£¡£¡£¡" There was a loud rumble and the big rusty iron door of the factory was kicked open.


    "Don''t move! FBI!" "Stand up and put your hands up!"


    The police, who were forever late, finally arrived, their hands flat in the air, scanning the area with a tense look on their faces. Then their eyes fell on me.


    "The culprit has been subdued ...... that''s Bryan Moss, the victim too..." i heard them whisper.


    "Oh... he''s crying! What a poor boy, he''s just so strong. And he saved two people!" One man''s sympathetic words reached my ears through the dull, cold air of the factory.


    The knife I had been holding so tightly in my hand fell to the ground with a clang. Slowly I raised my hands and pressed one to my cheek.


    I finally realised...that I was in tears.


    But I knew they weren''t tears of panic and fear; from start to finish I was panicking, but my mind was so clear. I knew that I had made the most effective move and saved two lives.


    The reason that brought me to tears was because I had finally learnt that I still had compassion. The most obvious characteristic of a sociopathic personality is a lack of empathy. Does that mean that Brian''s influence on me is wearing thin?


    Maybe one day I will actually be able to completely fade away Brian''s desire to kill and allow my heart to be truly at peace.

 CH 24

    A few days later.


    I lay dazed in my bed, my eyes unblinking as I stared up at the ceiling of my small rented house. Everything that had happened that day seemed like a dream in retrospect.


    At the last minute, the FBI finally arrived. I was treated like a victim by them and given the same treatment as Jessica and the others. A large, thick blanket was draped over my shoulders. A female officer helped me out of the scene and made me sit in the back of the ambulance.


    It wasn''t until I was sitting in the ambulance, after a long twenty minutes. I realised that the one who had helped me out and sat next to me for a full twenty minutes to comfort me was not some female officer, but El Greenoway. The famous sex crime expert in the bau that I had done a research chat about in advance because I was on guard.


    So, it was BAU that found me.


    I don''t know with what kind of emotion I made the connection.


    Under their questioning, I calmly and without a pause described how I had been held hostage by David. I even remember mentioning, at the end, Jessica''s abuse of tommy.


    They didn''t actually question me right away, and they had even persuaded me to go home and rest for the day if I didn''t want to remember now.


    But I refused, and I stubbornly told them the whole story overnight. I felt that only when I had fully told them did I completely let go and get a good night''s sleep.


    The feeling of being so muddled, of being so nervous that I was dim in front of my eyes, finally came out of me. Finally, after all these years, I had someone to talk to properly.


    The shadows of being killed, the memories of Brian, everything since I was reborn five years ago had choked me. I hadn''t realised until now that I had spent so much time in a psychological asphyxiation.


    Then I drove through the downtown area at night in the four-footer of a police car. Derek Morgan dropped me off at home.


    Now I think about how messed up I looked at the crime scene when I was seen by a group of people. Dressed in an unflattering ol'' outfit and covered in dust before getting up from the floor. There was even a sniffle and a cry.


    I rolled over and sank my face into the pillow, my head in a tizzy. The clothes sitting neatly folded on the bedside table were the same clothes that Spencer Ryder, the primary school bully of the BAU team, had lent me as his own. Because the clothes I had taken off at the crime scene, and the ol'' outfit I was wearing, were to remain at the police station as evidence.


    I never saw David once more. Although I know from trivial remarks from passing police officers that he asked to see me more than once. But the police are obliged to separate the victim from the prisoner, and that is to prevent further harm to the victim.


    That he was going to stay in prison until he died was something that was already certain.


    For in addition to the case three years ago, the place where he dumped his body in Miami was found. A total of eighty-six women were killed before and after. There were female support girls, college girls, and even girls who hadn''t yet come of age.


    Finally, after the curtain came down on David''s affairs. The day came when Stanford University opened for classes.


    I was out the door early in the morning. The one college opening I had already experienced was shaken by the fact that I was setting foot in one of the most distinguished universities in the world for the first time.


    It was the first time Brian''s mind hadn''t come out screaming for trouble, so maybe that''s what he wanted? To stand out from the 30,000-plus applications for admission might just as well have satisfied Brian''s unforgiving arrogance.


    I was wearing the same outfit I had worn when I first walked out of the asylum two years ago, and my two-year-old but durable Martin boots, which I had worn for two years, were on their way back to Stanford.


    Although Stanford had waived my tuition fees and awarded me a Pell Grant based on my financial problems, flat rent and living expenses were still an issue. I did not plan to work extra part-time jobs while at university.


    In order to save my salary and save up for these expenses, I haven''t bought anything else in the past two years, apart from the clothes I need for each season. I could pack all my clothes in a small travel backpack, and only two or three pairs of shoes.


    But I didn''t care, because if you are confident and capable enough, no one here will look down on you for being poor.


    On the first day of school, there was an orientation session for the older students, and various clubs had stalls where you could get free stuff like mugs, t-shirts and notebooks if you were lucky.


    I followed a small group of seniors around the campus and was stopped by a few girls a few times to take photos. They followed me all the way, giggling and pointing at me from behind, which made the boys around me look at me strangely, wondering what I did for a living.


    It was actually quite nice to be watched. At least it showed the impact of the All-American Supermodel Contest, which brings a certain amount of popularity to the contestants even if it hasn''t been aired yet. These girls recognised me just from the hard photos on the official website.


    I gave them my Twitter and Twitter account and didn''t hesitate to tweet with them before I left satisfied. I''ve never been a weakness in my ability to get fans, and having a few die-hard fans to help you out in the early stages of development, retweeting on their Facebook tweets and soup no more accounts, is a very beneficial situation for newcomers.


    There were no classes on the first day of school, so I picked up my student id card and school internet account and left the school with a bag full of free stuff.


    But my destination wasn''t the tiny flat; I transferred to downtown San Francisco.


    After the incident with David, although my mind was filled with confusing thoughts for a while, I was also still acutely aware of the importance of a fake ID.


    Whether it was because of the unease I felt at BAU being able to find me in such a short amount of time. Or the irritation of David''s easily unmistakable alias. Through my former landlord, I was able to contact, within a week, one of the more famous experts in the industry who used to create fake IDs. The expert, now retired, had opened a watch shop in San Francisco.


    I don''t know why the original landlord, though, had such contacts. But on the day of David''s arrest, the landlord''s reassuring phone call made me decide without hesitation that I would take this opportunity.


    I had always thought that the old lady, who was known as Mrs Nam by the street punks, might not have a simple background. But I was still surprised to come into contact with such a strange and eccentric person.


    The landlady, who had been with me for two years, knew me well, knew enough to easily pick up on the unease I showed to the police, to the fbi. The uneasiness of being weak before I was a thief, the uneasiness of fearing that if I approached Dexter with my real identity, I would be evicted by Sergeant Harry.


    Mrs. South saw it all when I was at my wits'' end for various reasons. She didn''t ask anything, like the thoughtfulness that she had deliberately not mentioned two years ago when I couldn''t afford to pay my rent because I was in dire straits. She always delivered what I wanted wordlessly when I was in overwhelming need of something.


    This is a vintage watch shop in a quiet side street in San Francisco.


    The wooden door with glass inlay and the wind chimes tinkling by the door smelled like blood in a vintage watch shop that should have smelled like wood and sandalwood.


    I frowned and walked inside, my footsteps falling lightly without making a sound. If this were a normal time, the owner would have heard the wind chime and come out to entertain his customers.


    I opened the small door by the counter and entered the counter, and there was the body of the owner. There was a bullet hole in his head and the blood had dried, but it was still clear that he had been shot at close range.


    I wondered what kind of dangerous mission the owner had taken on, that he had flipped in the gutter after he had already retired. I looked around the small workroom, took a pack of tissues out of my backpack and folded two into my hand and started rummaging for the fake IDs I had him make.


    It seemed that the shopkeeper had already prepared the stuff in advance because he had agreed in advance to pick up the goods today. I found the fake ID with my photo on it in a small stack of envelopes on the workbench.


    The name on the fake passport was Carl Black, and even the date of birth was different from Brian''s except for the photo, but the difference was not at all noticeable from the real passport, nor could it be detected by the identification machine at customs. The fake documents produced by this shop were even backed up in the police database and only needed to be changed to the photo of the person using the fake document.


    I put the documents away and prepared to leave. I didn''t want to have to deal with the police in a nosy way.


    However, as soon as I got out of the small door behind the counter and was about to leave the shop, the door of the watch shop was thrown open again. I tilted my face to the side and glanced at what appeared to be a man in a gentleman''s hat and bespoke suit, and a short, fat, eye-catching mechanic-looking man.


    I passed behind them at a brisk pace and just as I pushed open the wooden door of the watch shop to leave, the man in the gentleman''s hat suddenly shouted, "Get him, Peter!"


    Before I could react I heard the faint sound of a pistol being cocked and then a low man''s voice came from behind me, "Freeze! FBI, hands in the air!"


    Fuck my life.

 CH 25

    I cursed inwardly as I made a startled face and turned around with my hands held high. The man in front of me had meticulously combed hair and slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, wearing a regulation suit and leather shoes and holding his gun smoothly in both hands.


    "f...fbi?! I''m...I''m just a normal student! Not some suspicious person!" I said, pretending to be incoherent.


    At that moment, the two men who had been in the watch shop also pushed their way out, the man in the gentleman''s hat taking it off, his black, slightly wavy hair rippling, his magnificent light blue-green eyes intimidating. It was damn familiar.


    He looked at the FBI who had their guns pointed at me and said, "The old man is dead, we''re too late." With those words, Peter looked in my direction with a sharp look in his eyes.


    I, however, stared at the man and exclaimed out of breath, "Neil Caffrey?!" It looked like a reaction of surprise, but the thought had actually been going through my head the moment I saw Neil take off his hat.


    I had met him by chance in New York during the America''s Next Top Model auditions and had helped the careless master scammer, Mr. Neil Caffrey, catch a suspect who was about to get away. I remember wondering at the time what kind of character Tom was who had caught this cunning Jerry, but now it seems to be the FBI in front of me who doesn''t look good at all to talk to.


    Now this was a situation that could be described as a nuisance and a good opportunity.


    If you can get in touch with this master of fraud and learn a thing or two from his hands. In the future, even when trying to get close to Dexter, he wouldn''t have to worry about being suspected by some intuitive animal. You should know that Dexter''s latest ambition for his exams is medical science, and he plans to take up a forensic position in the Miami Police Department after graduation.


    Nowhere, more than in the police department, are there more intuitive animals. A keen self-awareness of criminals, and old-fashioned experience.


    Being able to understand the psychology of others, and being able to easily fool them and manipulate the psychology of the pair put in place are two different things. I am well read in various psychology books and practice profiling in my life. But to manipulate the other person''s psychological changes requires a master of deception like Neil Caffrey, with ever-so-subtle verbal skills that hit the weaknesses of the other person''s heart.


    Even if I couldn''t get him to teach me by example, if I could have more contact with him, I was sure that I could learn the art of language and the use of my own charisma from observing him.


    Neil Caffrey, hearing me call out his name, turned to me in confusion and said suspiciously, "You are...? Ah! Aren''t you the chap who gave me the heads up in the New York big box store a while back?"


    "Yeah, for the sake of me helping you guys out once, could you ask this fbi gentleman to put down the gun he''s pointing at me for a while?" I put a nonchalant smile on my face and watched as Peter finally removed the gun pointed at me and lowered the safety. Although he was still looking at me with a wary look on his face, ready to strike, at least I was no longer being poked in the face with a loaded gun.


    "How did you tell it was Nala Brown in the first place and give Neil the tip?" Peter pressed, seeing the stitch.


    I made an innocent face and explained, "Yikes! Don''t you guys know yet? I was sitting at the table next to Mr. Caffrey, and my angle gave me a clear view of Gerard Brown''s hand. His hand on the side of his thigh was tapping rhythmically, and since I used to be a dancer, I''m sensitive to rhythm."


    "And then it so happened that I also had an interest in Morse code. The rhythm of his finger tapping made me realise that he was using Morse code to send messages to others to get out, evacuate and so on. Then with a little scanning of the people in the book bar at the time, I could see that Nara Brown''s demeanour was very unnatural. Then after that, I went to the front desk and confirmed her name, and my suspicions were correct."


    Both Peter and Neil Caffrey were obviously very surprised at my headlong explanation. Peter reacted by turning his head and mocking his family''s peacock: "It seems there are plenty of people smarter than you in this world! You''re the only one who doesn''t have to be on the right track!" A sentence that ended with a bit of a biased grumble.


    Looks like this criminal and FBI partner relationship is pretty good?


    Neil Caffrey instantly barked like an exploding fox when he heard Peter''s words, "I just habitually stare into people''s eyes and talk, that''s why I didn''t notice the small movements in his hands, okay! It''s polite to look someone in the eye when you''re talking! Politeness!"


    Tricks too, I added in my mind surreptitiously. Looking someone in the eye and speaking makes the faint-hearted nervous, makes strangers feel respected, and in short makes the words that come out of one''s mouth more impressive.


    And when trying to deceive or persuade someone, it is more convincing to speak in a calm tone and at a steady pace. Here''s a summary I once read in a book on how to make a more effective sales pitch.


    "You also noticed, through your own observations, the unnaturalness of Nala Brown among so many people in the book bar at the time? You know, old Brown was a veteran of scams, and I can''t believe that Nara Brown didn''t pick up that knowledge, from her old man. That''s not something that the average person can do!" Neil said in a seemingly snide and complimentary manner.


    But I knew if I couldn''t give a proper response to that one line of reply, the suspicious label was probably going to be written all over me. I blinked and looked a little embarrassed, "I''m just observant, because I''m a psychology student and I''ve always been interested in micro-expressions. Usually when I''m bored I like to gawk at the people around me."


    Apparently satisfied with my answer, Neal Caffrey came over to me and extended his right hand for a formal introduction. "What''s your name? I''m Neil Caffrey, you already know that." With that he smiled and winked.


    "Carl Black!" I laughed out my eight teeth. A double whammy, now even if I got searched for that fake passport, the name on that fake passport would be my real name as long as Neil didn''t talk through it. And a name that had also been authenticated in front of an FBI agent.


    The fbi division that Neil Caffrey worked for was the white collar crime section. There was very little contact with those criminal case departments like the bau team that I had contact with.


    "Well Neil, we now need to question this Mr. Carl Black about the old man." Peter rolled his eyes skyward in disguise exaggeratingly, clearly unable to see Neil''s failure to follow fbi procedures.


    He turned to me with a serious expression and asked, "Can you tell me why you came from New York to San Francisco and wandered into this watch shop on this out-of-the-way side street? I am now questioning you as a suspect in that murder inside."


    "Okay, fine!" I made a helpless face, "First of all, I''m really here on a trip. I happened to be hiking around the old streets of San Francisco today and saw this rare watch shop in the metropolis and on a whim I planned to go in and take a look."


    "When I got inside, I saw that no one was in the shop and the door behind the counter was still wide open. I called out to the owner several times, but no one answered. I was curious and wanted to take a look inside. I thought the owner of the clock shop was just asleep, so I could wake him up and ask him to introduce me to the antique wall clocks in the shop."


    "I''m still interested in this little vintage thing, and how can he fall asleep at a time when it clearly says it''s open." I spread my hands, "Who knew going in I''d see that body." I saw Neil Caffrey give me a meaningful look with a smile when I mentioned that I was interested in vintage trivia.


    "So why didn''t you call the police the first time you saw the body?" Peter continued to enquire with a frown.


    "Because I was afraid of trouble!" I made a face like I''d been caught in a mess. "Look, this is the situation now. If I''d called the police on the spot, I''d have been taken to the station for a statement. It would have ruined my holiday, I came over here for a holiday, not to find myself more things to do." Selfish and afraid of trouble, I put the best possible spin on the mentality of an unreliable young man.


    "...... And I didn''t intend to leave it completely alone, I just wanted to turn around and find a payphone to call the police anonymously." I said innocently, "Who knew you guys would come in as soon as I turned around, I was afraid you''d see the body too and still see me as a suspect that''s why I wanted to get out of there."


    Peter was silent for a moment and then suddenly said, "Show me your papers." Sure enough, he was waiting right here!


    I bowed my head helplessly, pulled the fake ID I had just gotten out of my bag and handed it over. Peter took it in his hand and flipped through it for a moment before handing it over to Neil, who was standing next to him. Apparently, he too wanted the real master imitator to authenticate the authenticity.


    "Speaking of which, I really like that old wall clock from ''93 in the shop. I heard from a friend who used to patronise the shop here that there''s a very special story about the hour hand stopping at 11.03." I said casually as I looked at the wall clocks in the shop, looking very relaxed.


    An old wall clock from ''93 with the time stopping at 11.03. This was the shopkeeper''s unified code word for picking up the goods, and when I heard Neil call out this shopkeeper''s Taoist name, Lao Weng, just now, and the sad expression on the face of the short, fat man who had followed him out without saying a word until now, I knew that they must be acquainted with the shopkeeper.


    I knew that they must be familiar with the owner of the shop, and that they would not make things difficult for the owner''s customers.


    Sure enough, Neil gave me a traceless glance after hearing my remark, and once again a hint of interest flashed under his eyes, but after taking the document in his hand and looking it up and down, he said, "It''s true, and he doesn''t look like a guest of the old man."


    My remark elicited a reaction from Neil aside, the short, fat man standing behind him also turned his head to look at me.


    Eventually I was picked up high and put down gently by Peter, they were clearly tracking a criminal gang and my suspicions were cleared by Neil confirming that he had seen me at East End University. I really did look like a student visiting San Francisco from New York.


    Neil left me his mobile number and said he would take me out to dinner after the case was finished. Peter gave me a look as he gave out that mobile number.


    I guess Neil had left his mobile phone number that was bugged by the FBI. This was obviously done to reassure Peter. I accepted it with a smile, naturally knowing what he wanted to talk to me about.

 CH 26

    The second day of school at Stanford, the first episode of America''s Next Top Model finally aired. Viewers were coming in all over the place about the supermodels, and I scrolled through the tweets that had mentioned me.


    isagirl: Oh my god! This redheaded male model is so hot!!! What''s it called? It''s this stripper! (with a picture of Brian stripping to the uproar of the models)


    ished: isagirl this is Brian Moss, he totally pushes my buttons! Didn''t he also say at the interview that he got into Stanford? That''s so sexy and full of wisdom! He''s probably the most educated model of the season, love him!


    g: Brian Moss, check it out guys! I thought he was the type of guy you''d never get along with in hardcore photos, but in reality he''s a nerdy little nerd and sexy! (Photos, Brian''s interview, Brian reading a book while waiting, Brian doing a jazz dance backstage, Brian''s catwalk triple shot)


    n_lee: New World £¡£¡£¡£¡ I found Bryan Moss''s tube channel!!! Check it out if you are interested in him!


    yrabbit: think Brian and Alice are so good together, look at the way they look at each other on the runway show and the look on their faces when they kiss up! (with a picture of Brian and Alice''s final pose)


    asnake:yrabbit: disagree...didn''t Alice say he had a boyfriend in the interview later on? I do think Brian and Chris are a good match! Look at this picture! (with a screenshot of Chris jumping on Brian in a moment of excitement when he saw his mask during the induction into the supermodel house)


    ......


    Just because the first episode of America''s Next Top Model aired, my followers on Twitter, and the number of video plays on the Oily Tube increased several times over. The number of subscribers to the channel is also climbing, so I guess it won''t be long before I''m approached by an editor from the tube with an offer to sign on.


    The feedback on the comments has been uniformly positive, which is rare for a talent contest where fans and jetsetters dance together. I was always mindful of my expressions and mannerisms during the America''s Next Top Model shoot, and it was really hard to get caught in the hacks.


    Another new, little video I uploaded to the tube, filmed in my bedroom, is titled ''What you can do when you''re bored at home''. In it, I use cold humour to do silly things that many people would do in private. The grounded image portrayal is what makes vlogging youtubers so popular.


    The next day, fresh from a university lecture, I got a call from Neil Caffrey. They seemed to be quite efficient in handling the case.


    "Hi, Carl. If you''re free, how about getting together for dinner today? That friend I was with last time is coming along, so it shouldn''t matter, right? I''m talking about Mosquito, not Peter." Neil''s voice came on the other end of the line, sounding the relief of having finally solved the case.


    So the short, chubby, small man was Mosquito? Thinking of Neil Caffrey brings to mind another man, less well known in the outside world because of his different style of deception, but with imitation skills not dissimilar to Neil Caffrey''s.


    A dear friend of Neal Caffrey''s, Mosquito is just one of his names, Detroit Dentist is what he is really called. He was also the man who brought Neal Caffrey into the financial scam business.


    Facing these two master craftsmen, I couldn''t help but feel a little nervous. I forced myself to calm my voice and returned, "Of course I don''t mind, where do we meet?"


    In the end, Neil set the venue at a moderate restaurant in San Francisco. It wasn''t too grand, but still seemed formal.


    As soon as I stepped into the restaurant, I could see them without looking. Sitting at the window seat for four were Neil Caffrey and Mosquito, Mosquito who fit the ambience of the restaurant, and Neil who stood out in a high end tailored suit.


    "Didn''t make it easy for the bastards," Neil said as he held out his hand to shake mine, "and the man who killed the old man was caught."


    The mosquito next to me had been staring at me with probing eyes since I approached, and it wasn''t until I sat down that he asked, "How did you get the old man to create a false witness for you? You know he''s been washing his hands of the business for many years."


    I gave Mosquito a look, a little surprised at his enquiry. I had gotten the contact details of the watch shop owner from Mrs. Fann Wong, and although he had refused without hesitation at first, he changed his mind after a moment''s hesitation when he heard me mention Mrs. Nam''s name.


    I didn''t expect that the person she introduced would be someone who had washed his hands for many years but had a reputation on the road. What exactly was Madam Nan''s status in the past when she could make the old man risk helping a stranger pick up his old job again for her sake?


    Not intending to lie here about something I didn''t even know about, I replied straight away, "I was introduced to her by my former landlord"


    Neil and Mosquito looked at each other suspiciously before Mosquito spoke up and asked, "What was your landlord''s name?"


    Knowing that I reckoned this would be an opportunity to hook up with them, I said honestly, "She told me to call her Mrs Nan."


    Neil and Mosquito''s faces were solemn as soon as the name Mrs Nan came out, and they both looked at each other. Neil''s face was no longer wearing the official polite smile, showing a human expression for the first time.


    Mosquito looked concerned and asked, "Mrs Nan... is she doing well? Is she still doing this? I thought she had retired a long time ago?"


    Still looked like a good acquaintance from before?


    I smiled and nodded, "She''s doing well, I lived in her house for two years and she always took care of me...I got into some trouble recently so she offered me this route."


    "Got into trouble?" Mosquito''s two thick eyebrows twitched before he smiled with a devious smile, "Oh, rich and famous. We understand!"


    Even Neil said meaningfully, "If you want to make a quick buck, you have to take risks. Aren''t you a psychology student? What made you want to get into...our business?"


    I knew that they had misunderstood my purpose for getting a fake license because of Mrs. Nam''s relationship. I didn''t intend to poke holes in this misunderstanding, I just avoided the point and said, "I just don''t want to be too high profile...everyone always has their own little secrets, don''t they?"


    "Oh! Too bad this peacock next to me has such a high-profile style!" Mosquito said, getting up indignantly, "And stinky and high-profile, no wonder he got caught by that police cat!"


    Hahahahaha, so is that how they described themselves too. But in truth, Tom and Jerry were really the only ones who were constant champions.


    "Mosquito...shut your mouth..." although it looked like Neil and Peter were on good terms, he obviously still felt that being caught by the police cat was a stain on his career.


    Mosquito lifted his hand and made a zipping motion over his mouth, and Neil gave him a tearful look. He said to me as if making small talk, "Actually, in our line of work, apart from having good skills in your hands, the art of language is also a learned skill. You''ve got that going for you. Words that strike at the heart of someone''s psyche are the most effective means."


    "I remember what you said to Mr. Police Cat the other day, and it looks like you''re a bit more observant than those who memorise books by rote. Mrs Nan probably sees that in you too." Mosquito interjected with a playful smile. "Reading people''s minds is a necessary skill for us little people." I found a subtle hint of interest in me in all their eyes.


    I actually had no intention of doing anything in the area of financial fraud. Because my thirst for money wasn''t as pressing as Neil''s or Mosquito''s, a small fortune had always been my credo. Why go to the trouble of obtaining money by unscrupulous means and worrying about it every day when I could support myself through ordinary work?


    But I still pretended that I was interested in what they had to say.


    Stealing a lesson, that was my ultimate goal. The fact that I had managed to rip off this kind of progress on my first meeting made me a little elated. This time, the hitch would surely not be as unlucky as the one with David. At least that''s what I believed.


    The word fit. to me, doesn''t necessarily mean fire-bagging friendships. It''s the literal meaning that I focus on.


    We talked for the rest of the afternoon, but rarely in depth, and we kept a polite line about each other''s personal information. In the end, Mosquito gave me the password to an Internet chat room and told me to check it out if I was interested.


    After a busy day, I came home and ticked off another item on my mental "to do" list. Admission to Stanford University, getting fake papers, hooking up with a master scammer, the repercussions of the airing of America''s Next Top Model. Everything was going smoothly, and the irritation I''d felt over David''s death and the words he''d said before he died had subsided silently.


    Maybe it''s time for me to complete the next "to do list" option, after all, the famous reality show Survivor has finally started accepting applications. This seemingly physical and skill-based show is actually a mind game of social networking. I had my eye on it early in the morning.


    Unlike at America''s Next Top Model, where the goal was to gain a certain level of popularity. This time, however, I was intent on actually getting that million dollars.


    Not only would it ease my financial situation, but it would also alleviate the perception that models are dull and brainless, deepen the fact that I came from a psychology department at Stanford University, and add some edge to the stage where I could stand out from the new actors, models and singers that were emerging.


    I sat down at my computer and opened the file. It''s hard to stand out without putting a lot of thought into the cv''s that are submitted to Survivor. I wasn''t going to let myself be defeated in this section.


    Personal history, education, career, work experience. A smile nestled in the corners of my mouth, my fingers crackling on the keyboard as if I were playing, how to differentiate myself from the others with a special and touching personal story, the signature of Stanford University, the stripping job I had done, and my experience in the America''s Next Top Model competition. I typed it up without missing a thing.

 CH 27

    I woke up in a daze, to the ringing of my phone. I had worked late into the night again last night to complete the cv''s for the Survivor section. I fumbled around and half propped myself up from the bed, a slight chill to my half-naked upper body from the gradually turning cooler weather.


    The ringtone didn''t seem to be the one I''d set as my wake up alarm, but instead it was the default ringtone of that phone. Who would be calling me early in the morning?


    "Hi, Brian!"


    I took the phone away from my ear and glanced again at the name displayed on the screen. Chris, yes, but why did the voice ringing out of the receiver belong to Jonathan?


    "Jonathan? You''re...filming for Chris?" I said as I pressed the phone back to my ear again, getting up from the bed sharply and walking to the bathroom as I did so.


    "Yeah, and Chris said he hadn''t spoken to you in a while and was afraid you wouldn''t answer the phone." Jonathan''s voice on the other end sounded excited. "That sultry look on his face, you dumped him?"


    I didn''t really like dealing with Jonathan, but his position in the fashion industry was one that I, a newcomer to the industry, couldn''t afford to offend. So, if I could make friends with him and even get a job or two by making a faux pas, why not?


    "No, we''re not that kind of relationship either. It''s just that school has just recently started and I''m a bit busy adjusting to it." I made it look like I didn''t care what he was calling about and just politely replied.


    Even if I had ulterior motives for the exchange with him, I didn''t want to make them so obvious. The falsehood, the desire to capture, this approach is not limited to ambiguity between men and women, it is also a good tactic in the business world.


    "Well, why are you so cold to everyone?" Jonathan didn''t seem to care about the previous conversation, it was just a casual way of bringing it up. "You should know the final winner of America''s Next Top Model by now, right?"


    I was squeezing toothpaste on myself with my phone between my shoulders and raised an eyebrow at his question, "I didn''t actually know, but I probably guessed it when I heard you ask. It''s Alice, isn''t it?"


    "......" There was a half-hearted silence on the other end of the line before Chris''s voice suddenly came through, "Do you have so little faith in me? Why didn''t you guess it was me?"


    I heard Chris''s voice sigh with relief and replied, "Because I can guess that what GUESS needs these days is a female model, and of the top five posted on the website, she''s the only one with the most power. You''re working with Jonathan to end the America''s Next Top Model contest?"


    Chris had a moment of silence before saying, "Yes, the shoot ended a week ago. It just so happened that the magazine Jonathan was shooting creative design for had a fashion shoot to do, so they gave me a lift to do a backdrop." No sooner had his words fallen than his phone was snatched by Jonathan.


    "What a backdrop, to put it so harshly. That''s right! And we''ve just arrived in San Francisco and we''re getting ready to shoot over here. Brian, aren''t you coming to see your friend?" Jonathan said in a particularly positive way.


    "Oh? Is there a spot for me to be a backdrop too then?" I said in a teasing tone, "After all, I''ve had a hard time getting in touch with our noble and charming creative director, so maybe he can give me my first magazine shoot?"


    Jonathan on the other end of the line laughed at my words, and it seemed that he didn''t mind a bit of just the right amount of banter for his preferred type. Maybe because it would give him the illusion of flirtatious flirting? Mike the Ice Cream Man, whom he had admired earlier, had been too serious in his face for him to lose interest after his elimination.


    It was obviously good news, but the way Jonathan called up to me made me cringe uncontrollably. David was obviously a corpse buried under those layers of concrete long ago, but the way he addressed me still couldn''t be rubbed out in my mind.


    I forced myself to laugh out loud, lifting the corners of my mouth to make the words come out with a little chuckle. "Ha, thank you then Jonathan. The address of the studio? I''ll be on my way over there."


    Just as I stepped into the studio, the d¨¦cor struck me as overwhelmingly familiar, clubby. Not far away, Chris, dressed in a less formal and less casual outfit, and Jonathan, who was explaining the theme of the shoot to three or four other female models, both saw me at the same time.


    Jonathan gave me a wave as a greeting and then asked his assistant, who was standing by, to take me to change. Chris, however, came running straight at me with gusto.


    "Brian!" He called my name, wearing a smile that was rare to see on his face. He rushed up to me and tried to come up for a hug, but had a moment of inability to fit in and stopped awkwardly.


    Looking at the little wolf who was almost domesticated, I didn''t mince words and went straight up to give him a hug. "Two weeks no see, how''s it going?" I asked as I followed the camera assistant to the dressing room to change, while I spoke up.


    Chris seemed to feel happy just standing next to me as he nodded nervously and said, "With the little bit of visibility from America''s Next Top Model and the experience Tyler and the guys taught me, I''ve at least been able to run a lot more shows than I was, and I''ve also gotten a lot more work on print shoots."


    "That''s good." I complimented in a genuine tone, smoothing the insecure coyote''s fur. "There will be more opportunities in the future, it just gets a bit tiring to model as a full time job."


    "Heh, and presuming to think of modelling as your full-time job? All you do is strip and seduce men!" Without waiting for Chris to reply, a sharp, mean male voice suddenly interjected into our conversation.


    "Shut up, Anthony!" Chris shouted angrily like a coyote defending his territory. "If you don''t want to show any quality, then don''t just open your mouth. Protect the environment will you?"


    I turned my head and saw the man Chris had called Anthony, who was standing up with a glass of water from a water fountain off to the side. A face that was more feminine and sultry than a Hollywood actress, but the malice on his face distorted the luscious face, and the burn in his eyes stabbed me straight in the face.


    Anthony Brooks, if I remember correctly, Wikipedia tells me he is Jonathan''s current boyfriend. By profession, he''s also a model. Even posed as he is today, he is still as gorgeous and compelling as ever. It makes me offended that the fire is released.


    No wonder I came up with the strange analysis of the relationship between the two of them from the fetish that Jonathan gave me as a photographic subject in the hard photo shoot for the competition in the first place.


    Jonathan''s admiration for Anthony''s beauty, and the restrictive controls he places on Anthony in order to maintain his own mental fantasy of beauty, may be pushing people too far. Perhaps Jonathan had an unshrinkable responsibility for Anthony becoming this way.


    After all, compulsively raising someone to be dependent on others in order to grow like a doddering flower not only fuels insecurity, it can also drive someone into depression. It''s not so bad when you can still be angry at someone for being jealous.


    I looked at Anthony with an expressionless face as he looked even angrier than Chris, then he suddenly raised his finger to my face and cursed in a loud voice, "Hmph, a bitch who likes to steal other people''s men and dare to do it without being called names? Well, if you''re going to get involved, I don''t mind if you both get the fuck out of here!"


    His finger was almost poking me in the face, and the stench of corruption lingering on his fingernails made me cringe. But before I could say anything, Anthony''s hand was struck down hard by Chris.


    "YOU!!!" Anthony let out a soft cry of pain, and looking at the back of his hand, which was stamped with red marks, he raised his hand in anger and was about to throw the glass of water in his other hand at Chris'' face.


    Seeing this, I gave Chris a strong tug on his hand and made him fall backwards towards me to avoid the glass of water. The water would have stained Chris'' costume and probably cost him a fortune, not to mention ruining Chris'' makeup and delaying the shoot. I wasn''t about to let something like that happen that might make a bad impression on the photographer''s mind.


    But the water was in Anthony''s hand and in the end it didn''t get spilled.


    "Who did you say you were going to double-cross?" Jonathan''s low voice came from behind Anthony, and Anthony''s hand was caught by Jonathan, spilling water all over the floor.


    "Didn''t I tell you to stay home and be nice? And don''t speculate freely about my relationship with other models! Chris did, and now Brian is doing the same. You''ll do as you''re told, wasn''t that the deal?" Jonathan showed a forcefulness rarely seen with other people.


    Anthony, who had been flailing under his hold, surprisingly shrivelled up all of a sudden. I suddenly felt a little sorry for him. Unlike my taming of Chris, I had only soothed Chris'' psyche and made him less solitary and prickly. But it was amazing how what Jonathan had done to Anthony could change a man to such an extent by osmosis.


    It looks like it''s just not possible for Jonathan to not want Anthony these days. Because Anthony wouldn''t be able to live without him, I guess. Obviously such a beautiful face again.


    I watched sadly as Anthony cursed and turned away, taking another cigar out of his shirt pocket and lighting it as he went.


    "I''m so sorry, Brian." Jonathan said as if nothing had happened, "I''ve made you all look ridiculous. Anthony didn''t used to be so jealous, maybe seeing your beauty Brian has given him a crisis? Hahahaha!"


    Chris still hadn''t gotten over it, but seeing as Jonathan was now the boss, he just kept his head down and kept quiet. All I could do at this was look at Jonathan and pull up the corners of my mouth and smile. "What a thing to say, isn''t your lover Anthony on that famous list of the most beautiful faces in the world? How can I be considered beautiful compared to him?"


    It was never wrong to be polite and polite, and sure enough Jonathan''s face returned to a smile. "Brian you''re too modest, your beauty is completely different from the type that Anthony has... the urge to... come on, go and get changed! We can''t afford to delay our shooting schedule any longer!"


    Yes, Anthony and I were two completely different extremes, but the incoherent part of Jonathan''s remark sent a nasty chill down my spine. Whereas Anthony''s beauty had a sense of style, Brian''s face was more on the cold side of refined elegance. I really don''t understand why Jonathan has suddenly changed his tastes.


    Perhaps in the eyes of an artist, beauty is beauty and there is no category distinction?


    But I can sort of see why Jonathan didn''t ask his lover to shoot this time for the nightclub theme. With his lover''s looks, taking this type of photo would have immediately given the photo an erotic flavour. Instead, the look I brought to the table was the same guilty pleasure that sells when you are a jazz dancer.

 CH 28

    "Come in and sit down, would you like something to drink?" After the shoot was over, I declined Jonathan''s offer to join us for dinner on the pretext that I was afraid your lover would be jealous, and took Chris, who said he had nowhere else to go, back to the small flat I had rented in Pala Alto.


    "No...no need..." said Chris, who had been a bit of a handful from the moment he stepped into the small flat. "Oh...a glass of water would be great!"


    I put down the bag I was carrying and looked at him and smiled, then turned and grabbed a glass and filled it with some water and handed it over. As I handed it to him, my hand holding the glass couldn''t help but tremble. Because I realised that this cleaned glass was the one David had used earlier, and the one he had washed and put there. And I hadn''t been able to handle it.


    "Thanks." Chris, his ears red from nervousness, didn''t notice that something was wrong with me. He deliberately looked away taking the cup from me with a stern face.


    "So you signed up for Survivor?" Chris asked, still a little incredulous, as he sat down.


    On the way back, I told him what I was going to do next. But he was still a little confused about me rolling over and trying to throw myself into another reality show, after all, modeling was my career in his opinion.


    I shrugged and sat across from him, face to face with him at the small dining table. "That''s right, didn''t I drop out of the America''s Next Top Model competition for personal reasons? So participating in Survivor is the next step for me."


    "Why?!" Chris pursued stubbornly.


    "For visibility I guess, and for that million dollar prize at the end of Survivor." I replied, either truthfully or falsely. "Don''t worry, I''ll be taking on some magazine print shoots and such in the near future too. But because of school, I probably won''t be able to run runway shows around the world like you do."


    Chris had signed with a not too bad agency after America''s Next Top Model, even though he hadn''t been able to sign with next modeling agency. Lately he''s been running shows and doing print magazine photos with the resources in the hands of the agent who brought him in.


    "But I''ve heard that survivors are hard..." said Chris, a little torn, "contestants come back losing dozens of pounds all over the place, and it''s too bad for your health."


    "But I''d love to have an experience like that." I smiled and brought my face closer to Chris, gazing up close at his icy blue irises. "A wilderness survival that you can''t experience in the modern city, but comes with the social laws of hooking up. This excites me more than those extreme sports."


    I flicked my head sideways to a frozen Chris''s ear, "Didn''t you come back with me wanting to try something you''ve never experienced before too? ..." the trailing voice trailed off into a hushed silence.


    I don''t know what''s wrong with me, maybe it''s the stress of David, or other things like starting school or meeting Neil Caffrey, but I suddenly want to tease Chris like this.


    If it was the old me, I would have been afraid to go further for fear of hurting our feelings for each other. I would probably have been careful to test the waters and wait until I was sure what the other person meant before I would say it explicitly.


    But now, because of the influence of Brian''s personality traits, I could care less about the other person''s feelings and selfishly and egotistically want things to go my way.


    I could hear Chris''s increasingly rapid and heavy breathing, a bead of sweat on his temples in what was clearly not a very hot day. His eyes were slightly closed, his lashes fluttering from the strain, and he brought his left hand up slowly to my face, brushing it against my jaw and the side of my neck.


    I let out a low laugh, which caused his nervous movements to freeze, and I attached myself to pull his other hand over my waist and straddle him. "Maybe you''re asking me if I often do the same to a lot of other men are you?" My question caused Chris''s body to stiffen and his expression to clear.


    I ignored his display of eagerness to explain and expertly used the strength of my own legs to support my body and keep my weight from falling completely on top of him. Then twisting and turning my body in a slow, sexually charged dance to the silent dance music in my head.


    "I! ...I didn''t mean that..." Chris pressed, looking up at me with wide eyes, then he saw what I was doing and his face instantly turned red and his eyes dulled, only to stare dully up at me straddling him from below.


    "No er, Chris." I put my hands, which had been racked behind my head from the dance, on his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck. "At least in all these years, you''re the first man to make me move for that."


    The completely unexpected answer left Chris completely frozen, watching him blankly as I guided him. This feeling of taking the lead myself also lowered the panic in my mind slightly.


    I wasn''t lying. Because, it was also true that Chris was the first man in the past five years to make me move.


    His personality seemed so innocent, yet he wasn''t completely immaculate as a person. He allows me to take complete control when I''m with him and not be at the mercy of others. And yet not too easily put at the mercy of someone who would make me lose interest.


    Since being reborn in Brian''s body five years ago, my need for the sexual side of things had diminished a lot. Maybe it was because of the pervert who made me die and come back to life, that sexual assault before I died, or maybe it was Brian''s original sexual orientation as a heterosexual. All in all, over the years I have unknowingly become somewhat sexually frigid.


    I had no need for sex, not to mention a partner, and even doing it on my own rarely happened. Sometimes when I was busy with my part-time job, I wouldn''t even think about it for 10 days or half a month.


    But what happened with David brought me back to the accident that killed me. It was as if David''s excitement had tipped the balance, and the feeling that I actually had feelings of gratitude and fear had washed away the shadows that had been deposited in my heart for almost five years, by breaking down and crying. This also opened up the senses throughout my body.


    It was as if I had come back to life.


    Before I knew it, we moved into the bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed with Chris in my arms. Chris straightened up on his knees on the bed and took off his shirt, and with a light smile on my lips I helped him unbutton it with one hand.


    Chris took off his clothes and kept his eyes on my every move. He looked like a hungry young wolf, hunting for the first time. He was anxious but cautious, his guard was up and his eyes were full of desire.


    He leaned over me, braced his hands on either side of my head and looked down at me from above.


    I suddenly felt uncomfortable, and I wrinkled my brow and brushed myself out from under him, leaning back against the bed. I smiled awkwardly under Chris'' puzzled and red-eyed gaze from impulse.


    "Sorry, Chris..." I stuck my tongue out and licked my dry lips, "I think I might still be a little uncomfortable down there."


    That was a lie. I used to be what could be considered a double plug, I suppose, but I''d much rather be a bottom who could just pose and wait to be waited on than a strenuous top.


    But even though the shadow of the accident that killed me is fading. But nowadays, I can''t easily put myself underneath sexually. The reflexive disgust that came back the moment Chris pressed up just now. Maybe there''s still a lot of work to be done on my own mental detachment. But with this opportunity, maybe it would be a breakthrough then.


    Chris was momentarily a little overwhelmed, and he sat there frozen with his mouth open for half a second. "I''m... sorry... I''m just used to it..." he glared red, then had a rush to reverse what he had just said, "No! I...I actually don''t mind...being down there either..."


    That last statement made his whole body go red, from the base of his ears to the bottom of his neck. The thoughts I had been put off for a moment by that shade were picked up again by the sight of Chris in this sweaty coyote form.


    "I''m really sorry I didn''t clear this with you beforehand," I smiled, reaching out to touch his head, flushed with some sweat. "But it would be nice if you didn''t mind being down there. After all, you''ve only ever done it with girls before..."


    I moved over and squeezed his shoulders, reversing the position and pinning him to the bed.


    ......


    "Brian..." came Chris'' low, husky voice out of nowhere. Interrupting my movements of lighting fires all over his body.


    "Um, what?" My voice answered with a chuckle, and the foreplay with him was so enjoyable.


    "Do you want to know what I''m thinking right now?" Chris didn''t turn his head, just looked straight at the air in front of him.


    Even though I was enjoying myself immensely, I saw that Chris seemed very serious in his tone. I stopped moving and straightened up, smiled and reached out to rub the few strands of blonde hair that were sticking out of his head, "Yeah, what''s on your mind?"


    I expected him to laugh and talk about how good I was at flirting, or deliberately criticise me for caressing him too stiffly and badly, not quite as skilled as he was at picking up girls. But he answered me with an answer that caught me off guard.


    "I think I''m really stuck..." said Chris, finally turning his head to look at me, and he looked me straight in the eye no longer avoiding it. It seemed like all that long silence just now was to build up his courage to say the words. "I like you...no, I''m in love with you. Brian."


    My hand stroking his hair paused, and I felt the smile drop from my face. I froze on the spot because of the heavy disappointment and sadness under Brian''s eyes.


    "Chris, your hair is probably going to need to be re-dyed. The roots have taken on their original colour..." I deliberately kept my mouth shut, but the urge and courage to do it all over again faded to nothing at this point.


    I knew that I just couldn''t be responsible for such a serious relationship right now, and when I couldn''t make a commitment to him, maybe I''d better not mess with him anymore. I rolled over and got out of bed, picking up the clothes on the floor and pulling them on.


    But Chris wasn''t one to give up so easily, and he continued stubbornly, "Is all your attention to me just a courtesy? Brian, don''t I stand a chance?"


    This time it was my turn to look away and I felt my voice go a little hoarse, "Chris, you don''t really know me right now. All you know is what I purposely acted like in the supermodel competition. Maybe I''m not really the right person for you."


    "But! ...," Chris was about to say something else, but I then cut him off.


    "Maybe I''m the one who got you turned on to men for the first time, but how do you know you''re not just having a momentary craving for fresh excitement?" For the first time, I said something to Chris that deliberately misled him. "You''re actually really into women, and you know that."


    "But I really do! ..." shouted Chris, anxiously, in a high voice.


    "Shhh..." and I pressed my index finger gently over his mouth to stop his words. "And I don''t think I''m going to have a boyfriend for a while...or for a few years, for that matter. So, sorry about that...Chris."

 CH 29

    Eventually Chris left in the early hours of the morning, before it was light. He was even stubborn enough not to let me see him off.


    But at least I knew there were no dangerous people around here, apart from the David one. The security in the small town was good too. Otherwise I wouldn''t have dared to let him leave alone like that.


    Unlike many pathological sociopaths, I''m not really interested in ruining the good things in the world. If Dexter is only focusing on the bad guys who got away with it because of the principles Harry Morgan laid out for him. Then I''m proud to say that I still have the moral code of a normal person inside me.


    It may be a bit funny to say that a sociopath has a moral code, but after that incident with David, I really do think I''m still saved. At least not to the extent of being sick to the extent that I find myself disgusting.


    And Chris? He''d experienced the same pain, darkness, and shadows that life had caused, but his psyche was cleaner than mine, which had been affected by Brian''s personality traits. So clean that I couldn''t bear to get any closer.


    And I didn''t end up lying to him. I really couldn''t date a regular boyfriend because of the influence of Brian''s personality, and if I were to date him now, I don''t think the relationship would last long. Because right now I''m too selfish and don''t care about anything, so how can I maintain a relationship between the two of them?


    That kind of bad situation is something I really don''t want to try.


    Using Chris to try and break out of my own inner shadow made me feel unusually guilty towards him. But soon the part of me that belonged to Brian convinced me to stop caring.


    I redirected my energy into my studies and the modelling work I usually received. Chris hadn''t contacted me again during this time, either. It was as if he, as a person, had suddenly disappeared from my life.


    Not long after, during my mid-term break in my first semester at Stanford, a letter arrived back from the Survivor crew. I had passed their preliminary audition and was still going through one more interview before I could be selected.


    I bought another flight to New York, packed briefly for a few days, and set off again.


    It was just after a quarter past noon, just two hours out of the New York airport, when I dropped off my bags at a small, somewhat out-of-the-way but inexpensive hotel I had seen beforehand and cleaned myself up.


    The next thing I knew, it was time for my scheduled interview at 16:00 pm. I didn''t have to wait long, the interviewers seemed to be notified in time slots, and only five people had arrived before it was my turn.


    "Hello, please have a seat." There were four people sitting in the interview room and the only woman in the room waved her hand in an inviting gesture and spoke. "Your name is Brian is it?"


    I had scanned the four people in the room with an unobtrusive gaze as I entered this room. The woman who spoke was dressed strongly and professionally, but the fact that she was the one who spoke in the first place meant that if she didn''t have too much control over the whole situation, she was presiding over the scene as the lowest-ranking of the four.


    The man sitting on the far left I know as the host of Survivor. He is actually also the producer of Survivor and he is very vocal about the choice of contestants. In turn, he came over to skip the woman who opened her mouth, a middle-aged man who didn''t seem too interested in the interview. He was a bit blond and didn''t look up at first when he saw me coming in, just flipping through the information in his hands in a bored manner.


    He must be the investor''s representative, I thought without moving my face. He didn''t seem interested in the interview, but if he was impressed, he could probably change the minds of the others at once.


    The last man I saw a picture of when I was doing more in-depth research on the show Survivor via the internet. He is the main director of Survivor and also holds the rights to edit the show. Making a good impression on this man was inevitable if you wanted to stop working on the show for nothing but a handful of shots, in addition to your own efforts.


    "Yes, ma''am." I had a nonchalant smile on my lips, not too eager to introduce myself and not appear to be lacking in interest.


    After all, it was close to closing time for my interview, which meant they had at least a long line of people interviewed ahead of me. And apart from the small number of survivors who were there to have a mere experience and didn''t expect to win the title. Most of them had the same idea as I did, to get through the interview process, get the title, get the prize money and improve their lives.


    This means that they are bound to be eager to introduce and prove themselves right from the start. If it had been the beginning of a day of interviews, perhaps such eager introductions would have made a good impression on these people, and they might have been passed on the spot if they had done well. But when they had been doing much the same thing over and over again throughout the day, such behaviour would have been annoying and bad for them.


    Sure enough, I didn''t start off with a series of introductions, and the frown on the woman''s brow lifted a little. The investor representative sitting next to her also looked up at that moment, then brightened up and sat up straighter.


    As an investor representative, especially one who invests in reality shows like this, one naturally knows that apart from great programming, it is important to have one or two eye-catching people among the contestants. After all, it is the age of face-gazing.


    But in previous seasons, it has been one big beautiful girl after another taking on the role of eye candy, as well as using the same old beauty ploy that has been criticised. That''s why this season they wanted to do something special, especially to get a few more good-looking male contestants.


    "Introduce yourself a little bit, I saw in your bio that you were in the latest edition of America''s Next Top Model. This pre-recorded show just recently started airing in length, right? Why do you suddenly want to come on Survivor again?" The woman said as she looked at the file in her hand.


    To get in front of the audience and brush up on her popularity, of course. I blinked, but knew it was impossible to say what I had in mind. "I dropped out halfway through the America''s Next Top Model competition for personal reasons. Something happened to my original colleague and I was forced to withdraw in order to cooperate with the police investigation. It cost me an opportunity that was important to me and was a little upsetting."


    I spoke in an unhurried tone and gave the reason for my halfway withdrawal so that they would not misunderstand me as an irresponsible competitor. After all, the police investigation required it, and it was not my fault that this was a last resort in order to assist in the case.


    "And Survivor, the reality show, has always been one of my favourites. The intense race is actually a social game of human hook-ups, in addition to the theme of wilderness survival. And now that I''ve just become a psychology student at Stanford, I''m very interested in such social games."


    I''ll start with Survivor itself; after all, no one doesn''t like it when others appreciate what they have. And what''s more, unlike the All-American Supermodel contest, which is a reality show where even the qualifications are competed out. Survivor interviews contestants just like they interview company employees. You want to be on the show, you still have to be given that chance by them too.


    Showing interest in the other company is one of the most basic aspects of an interview. Immediately afterwards, I reflected why I was suitable for the show Survivor in a bit of information about myself that I casually brought out.


    "The prize money that the final survivor will receive will also go a long way to alleviating my financial situation. As an orphan, I''m still a little strapped for cash, even with the Stanford grant. If I get the chance to be on this show, I will do the best I can." At the end of his speech, he expressed his determination without failing to induce a bit of sympathy.


    At this point, the director sitting next to her suddenly laughed and said, "Another model and a psychology student at Stanford. If we do get accepted, I''m not sure which group we should put him in."


    Jeff, the host, also propped his elbows on the table, straightened up and smiled, "One has to give credit to a survivor in life for making it this far on his own as an orphan and enrolling at Stanford. If he does compete, it should be quite a sight."


    I watched them discuss it alone, my face not changing in the slightest, while the investor representative, who had been excluded from the discussion, was sizing me up with an interested look on his face.


    A thought crossed my mind and I suddenly tilted my head slightly to meet the other man''s eyes, my eyebrows arched and I smiled at him. I smiled at him with an arched eyebrow, seemingly kind and attached to him.


    The other man subconsciously returned the smile, then turned his head to look at the three people who were discussing it and said, "Why don''t we just settle on this spot? At least for most of the day he''s been the best performer I''ve seen, and it''s better to have one more male model with brains than those blondes to add to the strength of the beauty group, right?"


    I blinked and returned an innocent smile as the other three looked over at the investor''s representative''s words. Beauty group? I was inwardly thinking about it, but based on what that director had just said, so much for extrapolation. It seems that the type of grouping this time is not the same as before, random grouping, male/female grouping, geographical grouping and so on.


    It seems that it might have something to do with beauty and intelligence? After all, what the director just said was that he didn''t know which group to put me in because I was a model, and because I was a Stanford student.


    Maybe it was my impressive resume, or maybe it was the words of the investor''s representative that were the last straw that broke the camel''s back. Without much more effort on my part, my entry was scheduled and decided.


    Shortly after I left the interview room, I saw the contestants who had lined up after me hanging their heads and being dismissed. The official Survivor shoot, on the other hand, would begin two months later. It happened to be the end of the university''s first semester holiday, which, as I expected, couldn''t have come at a better time.

 CH 30

    The streets of New York are empty at night, unlike those of Pala Alto. This is the time of year when New Yorkers are relaxing and entertaining, with nightclubs and bars and upscale restaurants lining the metropolis.


    I was leaning against a lively street full of bars and clubs, playing with my phone. During the day it''s quiet and deserted, but at night like this it''s full of people, all dressed to the nines. Of course, maybe after midnight it''s time to go back to the bars.


    In the chat room on my phone, I inadvertently brought up my trip in casual conversation.


    [Mr. Hat]: You were back in New York for the Survivor interview?! That reality show?!!!


    [Mosquito]: Ugh... what a waste! It was such a waste! How great would it be to learn some skills with me? It''s rare to find a young man as resourceful as you these days.


    I couldn''t help but laugh at Mosquito''s tone of voice. It sounded like one of those fake Taoist priests in China town, carrying a little book and going around tugging at passing kids saying, I think you''re skeletal and very suitable for martial arts training. Mr. Hat was Neil Caffrey''s nickname in the chat room, which shows how obsessed he was with juggling that hat of his.


    One by one, they both sighed when they heard the news that I was going to Survivor. It was just as well, after all, it seemed to them that a month of exhausting work at Survivor would only earn them a million dollars for the game. It was not a good deal at all to earn less and pay more.


    For these two masters of financial fraud, this rudimentary social game does not carry the possibility of failure, and a million dollars is not even a tenth of what they could spend on a single operation.


    [Carl the Apprentice]: It''s all about being resourceful, that''s why you don''t want to be like Mr. Hat, the mouse caught by the cat! [Apprentice Carl]: (I''m a good boy who''s content with life.)


    [Mosquito]: (Horrified) (Horrified) You''re a sociopath, a good boy who''s content with life?


    [Mr. Hat]: (sweating) Carl, you''re being too careful too.


    I go by the name Apprentice Carl in the chat room, and Carl is naturally an alias as they know it. This chat room, in fact, doesn''t have access to just the three of us. I could often see people entering the chat room looking for Mosquito to do something, and if Mosquito was interested, they would switch to private chat. I usually just talk when it''s just the three of us in, and peer into the screen at other times.


    And it''s the three of us who are most often in the chat room.


    That said, there was little restriction on the two of them, Neil Caffrey and Mosquito, if they wanted to see each other, with the indulgence of a tolerant caretaker like Peter. But perhaps it was a matter of old habits, even now that Neil had been caught by the FBI, it was rare that anyone sought out both Neil and Mosquito in the chat room anymore. But they still enjoyed chatting in the chat room when they were bored.


    During the day, I learnt more about the two men''s sultry personalities from the chatroom banter, apart from Neil''s most skillful manipulative language skills. Mosquito often complains that Neil can''t walk when he sees a woman, and now he''s added that he can''t walk when he sees Peter Cat.


    Neil, too, has often been sarcastic about Mosquito''s good-for-nothing ways. Yes, Mosquito gave me the password and address for the chat room, but Neil didn''t stop it either, right? Mosquito said that he saw in me what Neil had been like when he was young and wanted to teach another good rat who was smarter and wouldn''t get caught by the police cat.


    Looking at their exaggerated response, I was just about to say something back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hurried figure crash into me, not giving me the chance to react and turn around. The phone in my hand, slipped from my hand with a bump and then the screen went black.


    "Right... sorry! I''m really sorry!"


    I heard a flurry of apologies from the person who had bumped into me. I looked up after bending down to pick up my phone from the ground, then froze for a moment.


    The man in front of me, dressed somewhat out of place in this place, was slim and tall. If I didn''t recognise the face, I would probably have thought he would be a model.


    Spencer Ryder! The talented young doctor from the BAU squad that I had met in the police station only a short while ago during the David affair!


    He obviously remembered me well too, and with wide eyes he blurted out, "Bryan Moss?! What are you doing here?"


    "...Instead of asking why I''m here, why don''t you tell me what you''re running?" My mouth twitched and I reached out to touch my phone, luckily the screen wasn''t broken. "I didn''t think Dr. Genius liked to relax in places like this?"


    It came as a bit of a surprise to me that Spencer Ryder, who looked like a little geek, would show up at a bar and nightclub street like this.


    "No, no, no!" Reed said anxiously, waving his hands, "I''m not here to hang out... Brian, did you just see a man about six foot eight, skinny and wearing a black baseball cap pass by?"


    "You''re here on a case?" I looked at him in surprise, with a panting look. Since when did the fbi need someone who was supposed to be working on paperwork to arrest a prisoner?


    "...ahem...I''m not actually a paperworker," Reed explained with an uncomfortable blush as he coughed, "and...it was a thief, when I was ordering at the burger place and he took my wallet and phone off my person."


    ...... What am I supposed to say? Is it funny that an erudite little kitten was put on the spot by the big rat that hangs out in the gutter. Or is it funny that the rat robbed whoever''s wallet it wasn''t, but the fbi?


    "New York thieves run fast," I said, giving him a look, "How much money is in your wallet? Are the papers in there too? Why don''t you use my phone to call the police and then have a friend come pick you up."


    So as a result, I turned around, intent on getting a good taste of New York nightlife, and took Red back to the burger joint where his phone and wallet had been stolen. I also bought him a beef burger combo.


    Because I never thought for a second that Red would have no friends in his day-to-day life who could help out in a pinch, other than his colleagues in the BAU team! This was more of a loner than me.


    So after calling the police, as neither of us had much hope of getting our wallets and phones back, I therefore invited Red to dinner anyway, and he looked hungry.


    "So Hotchner gave you a break and you were encouraged by them to come to New York to audition for that reality show Survivor entry?" What a coincidence, I really didn''t think he''d come to New York for the same reason I had.


    Reed had been caught up in another serial murder case two or three days after BAU had captured David Vincent. To make matters worse, he was implicated in the case as I was, and was really saved at the last minute.


    The head of the BAU department, Aaron Hozina, had to comply with a request for a psychological assessment from the FBI headquarters and gave Red a mandatory week''s leave to adjust his mind. So Garcia, the department''s uproarious computer tech support, gave him a great idea for a holiday. That was to join Survivor.


    Garcia''s theory was this. Through research on all sides of, ahem, hacking, she discovered that the theme of the new season of her all-time favourite reality show, Survivor, was beauty, strength and brains.


    Brains, what a theme for Schadenfreude! Although each of the BAU team is a demon, three PhDs plus a couple of bachelor''s degrees and so young under the common perception? What''s it if not a genius?


    And given that Ryder hadn''t asked for leave since he joined the bau, like the other members. So a few years of saved up vacation time would be enough for him to join the full 39 days of Survivor filming.


    If he joins the Survivor shoot, then even if he wanted to be called back by bau in an emergency while on set, it would be impossible. Because Survivor is filmed in a completely primitive and isolated environment. Unless he gets knocked out in the first round because his emotional intelligence is too low.


    Jason Gideon, who should have been the last person to go along with the idea, was surprisingly extremely agreeable to it. He felt that living in that isolated environment for almost a month would help Reed to relax from the stress caused by his work and put all the things in his life behind him for a while. And that harsh existence of the survivors clearly didn''t get his attention.


    "Yeah," Reed said with a downcast look, "I really don''t understand why even Hotchner and Gideon aren''t against this idea of Garcia''s if it''s okay that Morgan and Al and the others are in favour of it!"


    "Because survivors are really fun!" I joked and winked at him, then deliberately reached out my right hand to tug on his and shake it. "Please take care of it when you do? Warrior of the Head Tribe!"


    "......" Ryder blinked before he responded, and he let out an ah-ha before saying, "Mose you''re here in New York for the Survivor interview too?"


    "Yeah yo." I grinned and spread my hands, "And I guess I''ll be in the Beauty Tribe, right? Let''s have a match in a month. If we both make it to the tribal merge stage, you and me in a secret alliance! That way we can definitely be FINALTwo!"


    The survivor contestants, as a rule, don''t know each other before the tournament starts. So there was no such thing as a pre-match alliance. But it would be a shame not to take advantage of such a coincidental encounter. Was it a decision of fate, or was it compensation for the FBI making me drop out of America''s Next Top Model halfway through the competition?


    All in all, I''m going to win this one!


    "But I''m not even sure myself if I can stop being eliminated in the first round or not?" Spencer Ryder said this but it was clear that the news that someone he knew was also competing had brightened up his brow.


    I knew that Reed wouldn''t have been eliminated in the first round anyway, and the chances of him making it to the tribal merger stage, reached sixty percent.


    Because he''s an FBI psychological profiler, he''s naturally wary of contestants who have a second plan in mind; because he looks like he doesn''t make people wary but is easy to like, so people don''t see him as their first target even when voting for elimination; and because his personality, which keeps him from turning scorching even under heavy pressure, is naturally not obnoxious.

 CH 31

    The next morning, Reed woke up with a bewildered look on his face from the uncomfortable hotel single bed and fumbled around the bedside table to find his eyes to put on. Yesterday, as a last resort, he had borrowed a little money from Brian and followed Brian Moss to settle down in the same hotel. He had no choice but to wait for his colleagues from the bau team to finish their case and come back to meet him.


    His papers were in the stolen wallet and he couldn''t leave New York and return to FBI headquarters in Washington without them. I wonder if the thief would have been shocked to see the FBI papers when he went through his wallet? In fact everyone who didn''t know him would have been shocked to learn that he was FBI.


    He ate Brian''s, lived on Brian''s dime, and had suspected the other man of being a fugitive from justice not long ago. Even a man as slow on the uptake as Reid was embarrassed.


    After a day''s contact, Reed was a little unsure of what Brian Moss was like. The information from memory plainly stated that the other man was a high-risk, antisocial personality disorder patient who had spent over a decade in a mental institution. Usually once a person diagnosed like that is in a mental institution, they never get out for the rest of their lives.


    But Brian got out, and not only did he get out, he surprisingly stayed law-abiding for over two years after he got out, not even getting a ticket for parking recklessly. It was frighteningly prudent. Those were Derek Morgan''s exact words.


    Brian has been in a mental institution since he was five years old, and it''s amazing that a sociopathic personality hasn''t gone insane because of it, but actually seems to have gotten better? It''s a medical miracle.


    And he''d gotten out, worked for his own money while studying on his own for his high school SATs and gotten into Stanford University! Honestly, Reid just didn''t understand how the other man had made it through. The fact that his mother was in a mental hospital was too much for Reed to handle. Because that kind of mental debilitation was hereditary.


    "There was a clear knock on the door.


    Reed froze for a moment, sat up from his bed, put on his slippers and hurriedly answered the door. There was no one else but Bryan Moss looking for him at this hour.


    Sure enough, as soon as he opened the door he saw Brian, the model who had long ago finished dressing and was looking shiny.


    "Hi, Red! Just waking up? I''m going to be hanging around New York today, do you want to join me?" Brian had a big smile on his face.


    "...No," Red said with a coy smile, "I''ll just stay at the hotel and wait for them to pick me up. I don''t have my phone or money, so I''d rather not go out wandering around."


    "Okay." Brian Moss shrugged, "It''s actually nothing for me to invite you. Why don''t I come back at lunchtime and bring you a lunch."


    "Don''t bother!" Ryder waved his hand back and forth. Gone was the robotic shrewdness and well-organised nature of his old days on the case; in human interaction he was a scum with a fighting chance of five. Not to mention dealing with someone like Bryan Moss.


    Brian Moss struck him as too much like those high school friends he remembered who could call the shots at the drop of a hat. He was so bright and energetic and socially inclined. A popular school star type character at first glance. Reid himself, on the other hand, had been nothing more than a pathetic wretch who could read in high school.


    "It''s no trouble! I have to thank you for lending me one of your outfits last time!" Brian smiled already as he turned around and waved goodbye to him. "See you later, Dr. Reid!" He said and walked out a few meters away.


    He looked as if he was no longer affected by what had happened to David Vincent at all. Reid thought silently as he closed the door and walked back into the room. What an amazingly resilient guy, so mentally strong. And it was surprising that he couldn''t see any of the character traits of a sociopathic personality in Brian at all.


    He would care for people, for being so kind as to buy his dinner yesterday, and for advancing his hotel rent, and now for bringing him lunch. He has compassion and saw Brian take the leftover fries and feed them to a stray cat last night when he was back at the hotel with him.


    This is a completely different personality trait from that of an anti-social personality. Was Brian just too well disguised, or...? If he didn''t believe that the psychiatric hospital in Miami, which had ties to the police department, couldn''t have misdiagnosed a minor for over a decade without noticing, he would have thought Brian Moss had a dual personality.


    A highly dangerous sociopathic personality and a sympathetic and still kind ordinary person.


    Recalling the time when they were still in charge of the David Vincent case, once the bau team arrived in the city of Pala Alto, they didn''t make the slightest pause and hastily contacted the local police station to request their cooperation. The situation was so urgent because of the hostages that they didn''t even have to explain anything to the police.


    When the group arrived at the small flat Brian had rented, armed to the teeth, they broke down the door and entered. It made them even more worried because they didn''t see anyone in that cabin. In this case, the best possibility was that Brian had been killed. They then hastily tracked down Brian''s rented cart, which led them to the long-abandoned, isolated factory.


    This was thanks to the video of Brian giving out the distress signal, in which Brian''s video diary recorded the name of the rental car company that he had inadvertently included when he had just come out of the airport and got the car delivered by the rental company.


    They used the name of the rental car company to get the license plate number of the car Brian had rented, and then used the road surveillance cameras to finally track the car down.


    When Reed was on the move with the other bau team members, they never allowed him to be at the front of the line. Maybe it was because of his stinky marksmanship, and his frail body combined with his poor fighting skills.


    So he was the last person to see what Brian looked like out of the entire bau team that took part in the operation.


    In the grey, abandoned factory, Brian Moss was dressed in a lady''s suit, holding a bloody knife that had obviously been stabbed into the hands of David, who had fallen unconscious on the floor. Next to him, on the top of a workbench covered with several layers of cling film, a naked woman collapsed on top, breathing weakly.


    There was also a boy, restrained by his arms and legs in a far corner. When he saw them enter, the boy struggled frantically.


    But none of this caught Reed''s attention as much as the look on Brian''s face at that moment. The kind of look that was different from the tears of joy of a desperate man, Brian Moss''s eyes didn''t even look at the fallen man, David, who was supposedly his long-time friend and later held him hostage. It seemed that what he was celebrating had nothing at all to do with any of this.


    Although even Jason Gideon didn''t see anything, Reed just felt that he was glad that he hadn''t turned out to be the same as David Vincent. It was a little uncanny that a sociopathic personality had the same moral values as the general public.


    But Reed could empathise with that feeling because he was afraid every day that he would turn out to be as mentally debilitated as his mother, and he was also grateful every day that he could still work for the bau team and shine as a useful person.


    Al had volunteered to go up with a towel and wrap it around Brian and help him out. Probably starting from the same point of guilt as himself for misunderstanding him. Seeing the women''s clothes he was wearing, and the clothes that had been left on the dusty factory floor, Reid took a change of clothes of his own and gave them to him.


    "Thanks." A very flat and uneventful statement.


    Red remembered clearly how Brian had looked, looking like a leopard that had gotten its fur wet from the storm and was a bit of a wreck. Yes, a leopard not a kitten. At that time, he had probably not recovered from the panic of being abducted by David and still being forced to participate in the commission of the crime. He was more like the character he had written out through the mental side of his profile than he was when he saw Brian now.


    A somewhat indifferent aloofness to the outside world, and very cultured.


    On the other hand, what Reed didn''t know was that he had been completely right about a good chunk of Brian''s suspicions. Brian, however, had two personalities, a highly dangerous sociopathic personality and a normal person with the moral standards of a normal person. And the normal persona was the one that had the upper hand in Brian''s psychological struggle.


    But the sociopathic personality is not without influence. Brian''s concern for Reed and his deliberate feeding of stray cats are in fact his deliberate pretence to confuse Reed.


    Brian''s two personalities, in a subtle way, merge with each other. He is dominated by his normal personality, but is influenced by his anti-social personality traits, so that although he knows he has to care for others, he forgets if he is not paying attention. Those acts of caring for people he can only do if he deliberately tells himself to do them.


    Feeding stray cats was even more so. When Brian was not Brian, he did often feed the stray cats around his home with some of his own leftovers. But after becoming Brian, he hadn''t done anything like that in a long time. Because Brian''s antisocial personality told him that it was none of his business and he didn''t have to care.


    The original intention was to wait until Brian returned at noon, as he had said he would bring lunch for Red. But the bau team, showed up at the door of Reed''s hotel room after he had only finished washing up and getting dressed.


    Because his next case required it, Reid didn''t even have time to wait for Brian to return and say thank you and goodbye to him in person. All he could do was leave a note from the hotel and drop it in through the doorway of Brian''s room.


    It contained his words of thanks and that he looked forward to seeing him on the set of the Survivor shoot in two months'' time, and wondered if Brian would be angry with him for not saying goodbye when he returned.


    The truth was, Brian wasn''t going to be mad at Red for not saying goodbye. He had dragged his feet outside long enough to return to the hotel with a Chinese dish, because by his calculations, the bau people would have been here by now, taking Reed away, right?


    He had gone to great lengths to disguise and camouflage himself in front of Reed, just to dispel the bau team''s suspicions that he had become a potential criminal. If his disguise was easily pierced because he was confronted by Jason Gideon, the master psychological profiler on the bau team, wouldn''t he have spent yesterday''s night pretending for nothing?