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"Since your debut, you've been widely touted as one of the most fashionable and stylish stars that has ever walked the red carpet. What's your secret?"

"This might sound funny to everyone, but I would never have imagined that the one thing that would change my entire life would be... a single hairstyle."

"It's an open secret that your personal hairstylist is one of Korea's best! We've heard of many top stars who have tried to secure his services but have been turned down. As far as we are aware, Hyunwon only accepts ad-hoc cases and has never signed a long-term contract with anyone except you. How did you manage to get him on board?"

"I think I'll have to keep that my little secret. If everyone knew how I did it, then Hyunwon would be far too busy with other clients to have time for me, don't you think?"

"Acting coy as usual," Hyejin scoffed. In the background, the saccharine sweet voice of one of the country's up and rising starlets, Kara Jung, continued broadcasting through the radio airwaves. Everyone wanted to know the secret behind her meteoric rise to fame, and her answer had always been the same—it was all in the hair.

"Don't insult Kara!" the young man seated in front of her snapped, his thick brows furrowed in displeasure.

Hyejin waved her razor about in the air and warned, "Oh so you're on first name terms with her now? You're scolding me, the person who has been cutting your hair for the past ten years, all because I made one remark about your darling Kara?"

The young man gulped. "You're exaggerating. I only moved into this neighbourhood six years ago," he mumbled under his breath, though he kept his mouth obediently zipped after that. He knew better than to piss off the person who would define his self-image for the next month or so.

Once she was satisfied that he wasn't about to say anything further, she lowered her hand and continued trimming his hair. For the next couple of minutes, the only sounds in the room were the low hum from the razor and the voices emitting from the radio. Thankfully the interview ended when it did, else Hyejin would have resorted to switching the channel. The quality of radio programmes seemed to be diminishing rapidly these days, with airtime being filled with the incessant dull chatter of the DJs and their guests instead of playing good music like they used to. Even the music these days were trailer trash, belting out repetitive hooks about sex, drugs and more sex.

Minutes later, she switched off the razor and set it down on her trolley. "Alright all done, you know how much it is," she said, removing the black polyester cape from off his shoulders with a flourish.

The man tilted his head left and right, admiring his own reflection in the mirror. When he was satisfied, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills, slapping them down onto Hyejin's outstretched hand. "I hate to say this, but you're the best there is in this neighbourhood," he declared grudgingly. "Catch you later."

The rusty brass doorbell jingled as he opened the door and left the barber shop.

Whistling a tune from the boyband era of the 1990s, Hyejin picked up the broom and began sweeping the floor clean of all the strands of hair that lay in clumps around the barber's chair. A quick check of the clock told her that it was almost lunch time, which meant...

"How is my precious honeybumpkin today? I've brought your favourite pickled radish cubes and kimbap!" An elderly man with a huge pot belly came waddling into the shop, waving a lunchbox excitedly in the air. "Business slow today?"

"How many times do I need to tell you not to come down to the shop! The doctor says you need plenty of rest and you shouldn't be putting pressure on those knees of yours," Hyejin sighed. Even though she wished she would be wrong, she knew that the doorbell would jingle at precisely noon every day without fail.

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