Model to Holywood

*Like I love you, You're a good girl* 

With Justin's sexy voice playing, Luca swaggered into the scene.

Fashion Week had many shows every day, so the venue was simple—no palace corridors, no bridges over flowing water, not even a glowing runway. 

Just hundreds, maybe thousands of people sitting around an open space with a four-foot-wide path down the middle for the models to walk and showcase the clothes.

Although the venue was plain, it was a place where real business got done. Each year, billions of dollars in orders are placed here. 

This type of show was more practical.

Luca walked onto the runway with a blank expression. He moved in sync with the music, swinging his hands at his hips in a way that screamed confidence.

After a few shows, he had become a seasoned model. He wasn't as nervous as he was at the start, nor did he walk with the same stiffness.

Both Kate and Lima had told him that true supermodel charisma develops over time, becoming something others see in you. Unlike him, who was forcing it, as if he was constipated. It was too forced, awkward, and impossible to maintain.

Since then, Luca stopped trying so hard. He walked naturally, showcasing his charm with the most confident and flamboyant moves.

Mr. Marton even praised his performance in the latest issue of *Details*, saying his vibe had matured and his future looked promising. 

It was an unexpected surprise.

As he was walking, a female model approached him. Her body was great, but her face was average. Still, when Luca saw her, a few inappropriate images suddenly flashed through his mind.

He imagined a voluptuous Lima in black stockings, walking seductively with her toes pointed. Her full lips, perfect chest, sexy curves, and honey-toned skin gleamed with a healthy glow under the lights, radiating irresistible allure.

"Luca, do I look good?" Lima asked seductively, biting her lip and batting her lashes.

"Gorgeous!" Luca almost blurted out before he realized—wait, this is a fashion show! He couldn't let his mind wander like that. 

Quickly, he refocused and continued walking.

"Wow! Look at that!" 

Suddenly, a woman nearby pointed at his pants, shouting in surprise.

"Oh my God, what's happening?" 

"Britney, look! That model has…" 

"Wow! That's intense!"

The excited whispers of women, followed by screams, shouts, and rapid camera clicks, echoed around him.

Luca froze. He could feel something… *fuck*, why is this happening? Why did this have to awaken now? 

If he had known, he wouldn't have drunk that tiger bone wine.

A few days ago, after a nosebleed, he checked the wine more closely and realized it wasn't just ginseng and Polygonatum in there, but also deer antler, Morinda, Cistanche, and Psoralea—herbs known for boosting vitality. 

What should he do? 

He still had over 200 meters of runway left. How could he keep going like this?

Luca bit his tongue, hoping the pain would help him focus. 

But his mind kept flashing images: Miranda, the bathtub, Kate's abs—all swirling in his head, with their lingering scents filling his nose. 

It only made things worse.

"Wow! It's sooooo big!" 

"Yanzu, look, is he wearing a mink on his waist?" 

"I think his name is Luca. Superman Luca. His body is so strong!"

Everyone around him noticed his unusual condition. Some even stood up to get a better look, like they were watching a rare animal at the zoo. They made comments as they observed.

Luca was mortified. He wanted to find a hole to crawl into. But there was no hole. 

*Ouch!* 

He bit his tongue even harder. The sharp pain brought him some clarity. Blushing, he tried to walk as if nothing had happened, standing tall and composed.

But the paparazzi kept running onto the runway, snapping pictures from every angle—upward, downward, side views—capturing his embarrassing state. 

*Click, click, click!* 

*Fuck!*

Luca was losing it. How could they be like this? Weren't they civilized? Couldn't they just focus on the fashion?

*Click, click, click!* 

The sound of cameras, the gasps, the giggling of women—it was all too much. His face turned red, then pale, back and forth. Eventually, the embarrassment numbed him.

*Whatever*, he thought. It's already happening, so what's the point of being upset? 

Worst-case scenario, he'd quit modeling after this. Why stress over it? 

His mind set, Luca decided to just let it go, totally shameless. He strode confidently down the narrow runway in front of thousands of spectators, as if he was the king of the world.

*Hmph, when you're shameless, you're invincible, right?*

"Wow!" 

The crowd was amazed. This model's vibe had suddenly changed. He looked especially flamboyant, shameless, and seductive. But damn, he was sexy!

"Ha! Mr. Curtis, look at that model. That's Superman Luca. I can't believe how unprofessional he is!" 

James, Ben Hill's agent, sneered. He stood beside CK's Senior VP of Fashion Sales and Marketing, Barry Curtis.

Curtis furrowed his brow, watching Luca. When he saw Luca's flushed face and embarrassment, he shook his head slightly. Definitely unprofessional.

James noticed Curtis's reaction and felt even more smug. 

"Mr. Curtis, this model is just a rookie. If it weren't for that incident where he became famous for saving someone, he wouldn't even qualify to walk in this show. Having him wear CK is an insult to CK's reputation."

James continued to criticize the newly famous Luca, feeling secretly delighted. *Ed, let's see if you can still laugh now*.

"Hm..." 

Suddenly, Curtis rubbed his chin, a slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

James looked at the runway in confusion. There was Luca, the shameless one, walking freely as if he didn't care about anything. It was like he was streaking through Times Square, completely out of control. 

"Mr. Curtis, I suggest we remove him. His presence is tarnishing the purity of this fashion show," James said with disdain. 

Curtis waved his hand, staring thoughtfully at Luca's back.

"Mr. Curtis, that's my artist, Ben Hill," James said, shifting his attention. Ben Hill had just stepped onto the runway. 

"Ben started his career two years ago. He's walked over a hundred shows, including Paris Fashion Week. He has plenty of experience. Mr. Curtis, I heard CK is looking for a new spokesperson. I hope you'll consider Ben."

"Ben Hill?" 

Curtis glanced at Ben on the runway. "We'll consider him."

"Thank you, Mr. Curtis! Thank you!" 

James pumped his fist excitedly.

"Ed, where's the knife? I'm cutting it off—it's messing with my show!" 

Luca stormed backstage, his face dark with rage.

---

*Note: If any female readers found this chapter offensive, I apologize.* 

(End of chapter)