Model to Holywood

*I still believe 

that you will be here 

and give me a sign 

hit me baby one more time*

"Luca, it's your turn!" 

The staff on-site called out, snapping Luca back into focus. His eyes sharpened, his posture straightened, and his shoulders squared as his arms hung naturally by his sides.

When the bearded Ben Hill arrived, Luca strode confidently toward the exhibition hall.

Today's fashion show was on the first floor of an art museum, in a palatial hall.

The seating was arranged in a square "回" shape, with the audience seated in both inner and outer rows.

The models needed to make a circuit around the center aisle, entering from the left and exiting from the right. The middle aisle spanned about 200 meters, requiring 220 steps, and a full lap took three minutes.

Luca entered from the right, dressed in a Zhongshan-style suit. He slowly walked onto the center aisle.

*Boom, boom, boom—* 

His steps matched the rhythm of the music, steady and confident.

The audience sized him up, along with his clothes. He had a handsome face, with deep brown hair, fair skin, and blue-black eyes. His features were chiseled and striking, exuding an air of elegant allure.

Tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the outfit highlighted his sharp, handsome demeanor, blending sophistication and grace.

"Oh, what a fine young man."

"Is this model a newcomer? Very impressive!"

"Mia, I want to go on a date with him."

Many whispered among themselves.

Among them were brand representatives, designers, magazine editors, or just spectators who came to see the beautiful models.

They judged Luca from different perspectives: fashion style, runway walk, appearance, aura, modeling agency, and even his measurements.

One photographer focused his lens on Luca's face.

Luca's facial structure was well-defined, almost artistic. From behind the lens, his features appeared even more captivating.

If he could, the photographer would love to do a full photo shoot of him.

*Click—* 

The photographer snapped a shot of Luca.

Suddenly, he noticed a small detail—this new model frowned slightly when turning, a flash of unnatural pain crossing his face.

But it was fleeting. He quickly returned to normal.

The photographer frowned. As expected of a newcomer, they can't avoid unexpected situations.

*Boom, boom, boom—* 

The 300-meter runway required Luca to take over 430 steps. By the latter half, his steps grew heavier, but his body remained steady.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and walked off into the left exit.

As soon as he returned to the changing room, he stumbled and crashed into several clothing racks.

*Clatter—* 

A chaotic noise erupted.

Sweat poured from his forehead, seeping out of every pore.

He groaned and slowly lay down on the floor to ease the pressure on his spine.

When he had made the pivot turn at the front end, he heard a crack, and a wave of intense pain shot from his spine to his nervous system, nearly overwhelming him.

He had fought through it the entire time, but now he couldn't hold back any longer. Curling up on the floor, he trembled slightly.

"Luca, get ready!" 

His temporary assistant urged impatiently.

The temporary assistant was named John, assigned by the event organizer—a white man in his thirties with messy hair.

Luca looked up, opened his mouth, wanting to say he was quitting, but the words came out hoarse: 

"I'll be right there!"

John noticed his face was excessively pale, drenched in sweat and tears. He smirked. This guy must be going through withdrawal. He's seen it all after working at fashion shows for years.

John's eyes gleamed as he pulled a small packet of powder from his pocket and squatted down with a grin. "Two hundred dollars. Want some?"

Painkillers? 

Luca's eyes lit up. Painkillers could ease the pain. He had often used them in the past. Maybe just one last time?

Slowly, he reached out.

John sneered, showing disdain. These models, looking all tall, handsome, and glamorous, are often addicts, weirdos, or worse. Luca seemed healthy and sunny on the surface, but he turned out to be just like the others.

"Luca, take it. You need this, hehe~."

John said softly, but just as he thought he was about to close another deal, Luca withdrew his hand as if it had been burned.

"What's the matter? Two hundred dollars isn't much!"

"I... I don't need it," Luca gritted his teeth and shook his head stiffly.

He couldn't touch it! 

Absolutely no drugs!

His predecessor had a drug problem.

He had held on for more than a month to slowly improve.

If he found an excuse to indulge today, it would become countless times in the future. If he kept giving in, he couldn't imagine what kind of person he would become.

He could give up modeling, but he would never touch drugs again.

"Hmph!"

John, missing a chance to make some extra cash, stood up irritably and said coldly, "Then hurry up. If you break the performance contract, it'll cost more than two hundred dollars."

"I know!" 

Luca wiped the sweat from his face, propping himself up on the ground. Awkwardly, he stood, his white teeth unknowingly stained with blood.

"Luca, now it's three hundred dollars. Want it?" 

John looked at him with a mocking gaze. Quitting drugs? He'd seen plenty try, but how many actually succeeded?

"I don't need it!"

Luca held onto the clothing rack, moving slowly.

"Now it's five hundred."

John chuckled. He was sure Luca would give up on this unnecessary persistence.

Suddenly, Luca stopped and turned to look at him, his black eyes piercing like lightning.

John involuntarily took half a step back. "What do you want to do?"

"Heh~."

Luca bared his blood-stained teeth, his voice hoarse. "You know what? I am God!"

John stood in place, stunned as he watched Luca's tall, stubborn, and strong back, like a towering mountain.

"Did he say he's God?"

John believed him for a second, then laughed at himself. "Hah! You're crazy!"

Soon, the second show began.

Luca changed into the second outfit: a denim jacket, unbuttoned, exposing his muscular torso, exuding a sense of wildness. Tight jeans clung to his legs, sparkling with metal embellishments.

On stage, with lively music playing, he endured the pain, striding with the proudest steps. The breeze caressed his chest and abs as the crowd watched and judged him.

"Hmm, this new face is intriguing!"

"He looks stunning!"

"I see a supermodel aura in him."

Listening to the soft murmurs of admiration, Luca bit down on his lip, swallowing a mouthful of blood.

To outsiders, he seemed glamorous in his fashion, but who knew the pain he was enduring?

A man has to be tough on himself, right?

Luca forced a smile. Another lap, over 440 steps this time, slower and with more effort.

Back in the changing area, he ignored the looks, took off his clothes, and lay on the cold floor.

The icy surface soothed his burning skin, easing the pain.

*Clack, clack—* 

A pair of hard leather shoes approached. John crouched down again, producing the small bag with a grin. 

"God, want it? One thousand dollars!"

Luca stared at him quietly, then suddenly smiled.

"You know, there's a legend that God endured countless trials and temptations before becoming divine. Are you the devil trying to stop me from becoming God?"

John chuckled. "Heaven is gone. Where are you going to be God now?"

Luca shook his head slightly. "Who says Heaven is gone? Wherever I am, Heaven is there."

Seeing the dazzling light in his deep black eyes, John hesitated momentarily before snorting, "I think what you need isn't this, but a psychiatrist."

Luca smiled faintly and stood up slowly.

"Come on, help me change."

He straightened his back, spreading his arms like an emperor awaiting his robe.

"Hmph, we'll see how long you last."

John put the small packet away, disappointed. 

*(End of the chapter)*