Chapter 72. Becoming Salesmen
The potatoes were growing. They had plenty of oil and salt. Tonight, at midnight, he was going to head back down to the trash pit and get started on packaging his chips, so that they wouldn’t run out of stock during peak sales time. But the most important part of their sales pitch was still lacking: namely, the face.
Luckily, Rhys had two handsome faces at hand. Unluckily, both of those faces were also the faces of their customers’ opponents. He’d been to sports matches before, however unwillingly, dragged there by his bosses or colleagues before he’d gone full remote work. The opposing team’s fans rarely bought merch with the home team’s face on it; the home team might go rabid for that stuff, but given how small the home team was, in his and Bast’s cases? It wasn’t the greatest selling technique to reach for in this particular moment.
Which meant it was time to put his old skills to work, and transform them both into completely different people.
He couldn’t completely shuck Mouse this time, but Bast solved that problem by quietly approaching her from behind and knocking her out with a swift blow to the back of the head. They’d set her in a nearby tree so it looked like she was watching them. Rhys said a quick, quiet prayer that the long-term side effects of concussions were easily solvable with mana in this world, drew his curtains, and got to work on the task at hand: namely, transforming Bast.
Although he would prefer to make small modifications to the base formula, as it were, put him in a wig, slap some glasses and makeup on him, and call it a day, they were going up against mages, who were far more perceptive than mortals, and not only that, but they would be put in the spotlight, their faces broadcast all over the town, and the center of interest squarely on them. Plus, Bast was the Sword Saint’s apprentice. Even if he wore a mask the whole time, and that was all that anyone saw in the matches, there were still plenty of sycophants who’d memorized his face before he’d thought to hide it. According to him, whether he wore the mask or not, he risked recognition, so he wore the mask in hopes that the worst of them would eventually forget him.
All that to say that merely disguising Bast wouldn’t be enough. His face was too well known. He had to craft a whole new character, give Bast a new look so drastic that no one would be in the same headspace as thinking about the Sword Saint’s apprentice. Bast had to start from something so radically different, that even if they recognized his facial features, they’d be in such a different manner of thinking that they put it down to an odd coincidence, rather than start wondering if they’d seen through a disguise. It had to be a transformation, and not only that, a transformation that completely moved people’s mental paradigms into a different realm.
Fortunately for Bast, Rhys had a lot of experience dressing other people up.
“Are you done yet?”
“Not yet. These things take time.”
“These clothes are itchy, and my back hurts.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“This is stupid. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”