Dr. Kee Hyun-Min

The reception room is a private place, a room siloed off from the rest of the world by a thick layer of frosted glass and three walls whiter than printer paper. There’s a coffee table with a vanity magazine and a steaming mug of hot chocolate by the small sofa. I’ve been waiting here for the better part of two hours; it’s the doctor’s consultation day and I had an appointment scheduled, but I was informed by a nurse that a “big client, can’t name him, but big,” came in unexpectedly, so here I am, waiting in the waiting room.

The sliding frosted glass wall is a nice touch. It keeps me from seeing any of the other patients, not that there are many to see. I sigh and begin to flip through the “Great Birds of the Pacific Northwest” for the third time.

I’m about forty pages in when there’s a light rumbling, the near-opaque glass rolled to the side by one of the nurses. She wears her hair in a cute brown bun, and I give her a smile behind my sunglasses.

“Dr. Kee has a fifteen minute window now,” she says. “I’m very sorry for the delay.”

“It’s chill,” I say, waving a hand, affecting a laidback Californian demeanour. “I could use a phone charger though, hah.”

“If you’d follow me,” she says, smiling a thin smile at my non-jest.

Dr. Kee Hyun-Min’s office is a modern, clean space. The furniture is all curves, the color palette filled with lights and tans. A collection of movie posters hang on the walls. Each features a different actor, attractive to the max, and I piece together the implication—these are all people that he’s worked with. This is an artist’s space, and I take note of its sensibilities, storing it away for future use.

“Welcome,” he says, adjusting his glasses from his spot by the standing desk. “You must be Claude Ashworth!”

He holds out a hand for me to shake. I can’t help but notice the slenderness of his fingers, the neatly cropped angles of his fingernails—his skin is flawless and the smile he gives me just practiced enough to give me pause.

By the time I’m done shaking his hand, the nurse has left the room, leaving just the two of us in there with the door closed.

“I had a quick look at your file,” he says, coming out from behind his standing desk to face me directly. “You had a very interesting reference, considering the times.”

“I had no idea there would be this whole… hullabaloo surrounding Erin Najbreit,” I say, pausing and laughing. He tilts his head at me. “But you and I both know that worse things by far happen in Hollywood. Surely her reference must still mean something if you’re willing to put these faces—” I gesture at the storied figures on the movie posters “—up as well.”

“We are all privy to certain pieces of information,” Dr. Kee says, ignoring my gesture. “The problem is, this hullabaloo with Erin, it has gone public. And I cannot trust somebody like that.”

“I can pay,” I say. “Double your standard rate.”

He shakes his head, disappointed.

“Everyone can pay,” he says, “and money is no longer the object for me. I have a reputation to uphold. And unfortunately, I cannot risk mine for yours, Markus.”

I flinch.

He just called me Markus.

A cold pit settles in the bottom of my stomach, a gut reaction that sends a million alarm bells clanging from the depths of my mind to my widened pupils.

Was this a trap Father set up? Did Erin tell him? I start backing away, reaching for the door, knowing that I need to get out, trying to remember what security there was…

Dr. Kee looks surprised at my reaction. He frowns.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he says. “My business would mean little if the world knew exactly who I had worked with.”

I try to make sense of his words, the lack of implied threat on his face, the smugness.

“You figured it out yourself?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t so hard. I don’t forget faces, and I’d seen a few photos of you in the past,” the doctor says. “And yes, you are wearing sunglasses and strange clothes, but the things that stand out to me are the bone structure and the proportions and the symmetries of a face, and when you walked in, that told me who you really were.”

“So. Nobody told you, and you’re not planning on telling anyone,” I say, slowly releasing my grip on the door-handle.

“That is right,” Dr. Kee says, folding his arms over his chest.

I breathe a sigh of relief. This man is a genius, and I just need to get him on my side.

The perfect white of his lab coat creases as he unfolds his ars, the wrinkles matching the frown on his face. “But I think you may leave anyways. We have no business together here.”

“I can pay more,” I insist, “Name your price.”

This man is the real deal. He can make me over, transform me into someone new. I need him.

He shakes his head, saying: “We’ve gone over this. Money is not the issue.”

“Then I’ll do you something better. I’ll get you Tiffany Najbreit.”

This time, the smile that breaks across his face is a genuine one, and that’s how that I know that I’ve got him.

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