Earning money through fantasy based on things that are impossible in reality is one of the most basic common senses.
Take the example of how Magic Pants restored one’s pride, or how Magic Bras created effects similar to the Buxomize Pill.
Reproducing modern medical practices in a medieval world where they are otherwise impossible—
In that era, when a disease meant certain death, curing it using knowledge from the future could bring immense profits.
What about hair loss?
Unfortunately, even in the modern world, complete victory over hair loss has yet to be achieved.
If someone were to develop a method to revive dead hair follicles and restore full volume, that person would sweep the Nobel Prizes of the year.
In other words, even modern humans haven’t overcome hair loss.
So, how could someone like me possibly overcome it in this world?
It might be possible using hallucination, brainwashing, or differences in perception.
But for that, you’d need an actual bald person—
“Would stress-induced hair loss be enough, even if it’s not full baldness?”
That bald person was right in front of me.
To be precise, someone on the path to baldness stood right before my eyes.
“Stress-induced alopecia.”
Professor Ederson tilted his head and lightly touched the area beneath his ear.
There, contrary to expectation, there was hair that didn’t look out of place—
“It’s from your tail, isn’t it?”
“I’ve been temporarily sticking on tufts that fall from my tail.”
“…”
“But those with sharp eyes figure it out right away. I wish nobody noticed… Fortunately, the undergrads all pretend not to see it….”
“But those who know, know.”
“Exactly.”
Anyone could see this was an early symptom of baldness.
“…When did this nightmare start?”
“Right after you enrolled.”
“…”
“Managing the Old School Building, and with you introducing all sorts of new technologies and magical theories… I’ve been through a lot, I tell you.”
With a wistful look, Professor Ederson peeled off the tail hair stuck to his scalp.
It seemed to have been attached with some kind of adhesive barely visible to the average eye.
“Can you make hair even more realistic than this?”
He asked with a deadly serious expression.
It was so serious that I almost reflexively answered right away—
“It’s possible.”
And not just in a “maybe” kind of way—I nearly said, “That’s child’s play.”
Hair loss.
To those afflicted, even joking about it is a stressful ordeal.
In circles full of young people in their 20s, talking about hair loss might just end with a “lol fr,”
But once you’re among people in their 30s or older, the mood changes.
A joke about baldness might get a deadly serious “You think that’s funny?” in response.
Professor Ederson is one of those people.
Among undergrads, the conversation might go like, “Only losers go bald,”
But among instructors—especially the older ones—ears would perk up at even a whisper of the topic.
Especially if the story was about overcoming hair loss.
“Let me be clear: hair loss can neither be cured nor overcome. Even the Ancient Histories say so.”
“Ancient Histories…?”
“There are records in the Old Library’s oldest tomes that speak of events from tens of thousands of years ago.”
That’s not technically a lie.
The murals discovered by the Four Founders 500 years ago in the ancient ruins may now be censored by the Church of the Goddess, but everything they saw is still inscribed in the Tower of Trials.
“They say the priests of the ancient Church of the Goddess were all bald.”
“…!!”
“To be exact, they believed removing all body hair was a virtue in devotion to the Goddess. To better receive divine energy, they exposed their scalps to the moonlight—or something along those lines.”
It’s not entirely wrong.
Just as prolonged exposure to sunlight can burn skin with UV rays, and unprotected entry into irradiated zones can cause radioactive contamination throughout the body.
“But they shaved their heads by choice, didn’t they? They weren’t forced into it.”
“Did you know? This is kind of a touchy subject, but since we’re both men, I’ll say it anyway.”
The kind of topic men only whisper among themselves—
Which is why it needs to be phrased carefully.
“They say the Saints were bald.”
“…What?”
“Those without a single impure strand.”
“…Wait a second.”
Professor Ederson furrowed his brows in grave seriousness.
At the same time, his tail suddenly stood up straight, as if it had spotted an enemy.
“You’re saying there’s never been a beastfolk Saint… Or that beastfolk hybrids can’t manifest divine power… Are you telling me that the core issue with the beastfolk race—being unable to wield divine power—is due to… body hair?!”
“Yes.”
A shocking truth, even to me.
“But even if a beastfolk shaved every hair from their body, it doesn’t mean they’d be blessed with divine power, does it? Maybe a few rare individuals, perhaps. On an almost negligible level.”
Unless they were a certain furry character so dangerously suggestive that their promotional video got taken down six minutes after release—
Only then, if such a person were to shave everything and bask nightly in the moonlight, yearning to channel divine power—maybe, just maybe, they might reach it someday.
“…So you’re saying that this is the reason beastfolk have been discriminated against throughout history as impure?”
“That’s one possible interpretation…”
“…Hah.”
Professor Ederson began clutching at his hair—what was left of it—with both hands.
If I let him slam his head down in despair, he might just shout “The Church of the Goddess will fall within a day!” and crack his own skull open—
So I tapped the table to snap Professor Ederson Lionheart back to his senses.
“What’s important is not the hair down below, but the hair on top. The scalp hair.”
“…”
“I mean, come on, do you think Goddesses and Angels are so obsessed with watching women sensually rub against each other and exchanging purity that they reject beastfolk just because they’re too furry to stick together all steamy and sultry?”
“…”
“Are we really saying the reason beastfolk—or those born with beastfolk blood, the fluffy ones—are never chosen by divine power is just because their fur gets in the way of hot, sticky, skin-to-skin contact?!”
Yes.
I spoke the truth.
Now, it was up to Professor Ederson to accept it.
“Well then, why not try thinking positively?”
“Positive thinking?”
“Yes. Precisely because they’re distant from divine power, they might actually be more receptive to the illusions I specialize in.”
Before Professor Ederson could fully grasp the truth of the world, vomit from the revelation, and spiral into dangerous disillusionment toward the Goddess, I changed the topic at just the right moment.
“To get to the point, this works best on beastfolk who are strongly aligned with the element of Earth.”
“Earth…”
“Rather than someone like Ludmila Lionheart, who’s aligned with Wind, it’s more effective on those deeply rooted in the land—those who’ve survived in deserts, wastelands, or cliffs.
But that’s not the most important part.”
Crackle.
I reached for the back of my hand and peeled off a thin layer of mana skin.
“?!!?!?!?”
“This is what I mean.”
“W-What is this…?”
“Ectoplasm. It’s like wrapping a thin slime-like shell over your body to alter your appearance.”
“What on earth is this…? You—”
Professor Ederson stared at me with an expression even more stunned than when he’d been on the verge of uncovering the truth behind the Goddess.
“You’re not actually the Blond and tanned delinquent…?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then… why?”
“Well, because if I act flirty with a bunch of girls looking like this, they’ll just think, ‘Oh, that guy’s just acting like how he looks.’”
“…Mmm.”
Professor Ederson stroked his chin, then nodded solemnly after a brief pause.
“I won’t deny it. And thanks to that, your image—wait, does Ludmila know?”
“She does.”
“I see, she does…Phew.”
Professor Ederson let out a sigh of genuine relief.
“Thank goodness. There’s a beastfolk in my hometown with a similar tanned complexion as yours. He’s been making a huge fuss, yelling about how Ludmila rejected him but accepted you.”
“Someone like that exists?”
I knew who it was.
One of the minotaur beastfolk—a rival suitor who appears as an enemy in Ludmila’s personal route.
“Yes. He thought he got rejected because of his typical warrior’s bronze skin. But once he realized that wasn’t the case—thanks to you—he completely lost it.”
“Well, there’s more to it than just that… Anyway, let’s get back on track.”
I restored the ectoplasm layer and pulled out a magic stone, pressing my thumb into it.
“Fundamentally, this is a disguise. Even though the magic tool is called Ectoplasm, this phenomenon is more accurately called camouflage.”
“Camouflage…”
“I usually apply it to my whole body, but it can be used in other ways too.”
I stretched out the ectoplasm.
Like sugar art, the thread of mana extended smoothly, and when I wrapped it with a golden-blond color, it instantly took on the appearance of hair.
“Something like this. What do you think?”
“…”
“Hair loss can’t be cured. But if you apply this ectoplasm directly to the scalp and embed these strands, you’ll get a wig that looks completely natural— With no negative health effects at all.”
“I see…”
Professor Ederson pointed at me with a very serious look.
“You too, perhaps…?”
“…”
ZZZzzzip.
“Convinced?”
“Lush and voluminous. Approved.”
