Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 4: Expert Makeup Photos

TBS Television, Studio 6.

A sense of anxiety permeated the air.

"Your hair, especially your bangs, needs a bit more volume! That angle made my face look wider!"

In the center of the studio, the male lead—Matsumoto Kazuya, a rookie idol from Johnny & Associates—is scrutinizing his hairstyle in front of the makeup mirror.

He was surrounded by three assistants: one holding a mirror, one holding a comb, and the other holding hairspray as if facing a formidable enemy.

The photographer in charge of taking the official photos, Tanaka, was tapping the camera shutter cover with his fingers in frustration.

He had been working for six hours straight and was craving a cigarette, but his idol, who was only in his early twenties, was at the height of his fame, so he couldn't let it get the better of him.

"Matsumoto-san, the lighting is all set, can we...?" Tanaka asked tentatively.

"Wait a moment, the sideburns are still asymmetrical." Matsumoto didn't look at the photographer, still staring at the mirror.

Kitahara Shin sat in a folding chair in the corner, quietly watching this scene.

He had already changed into his costume—a high-quality off-white linen shirt with the cuffs casually rolled up, paired with distressed corduroy trousers.

This is the standard attire of the "mute painter" in the play.

In his previous life in Hengdian, he had seen far more outrageous diva-like behavior than this.

In comparison, Matsumoto Kazuya's excessive anxiety about his image seems rather childish.

Twenty minutes later, Matsumoto was finally satisfied.

He flashed his signature idol smile in front of the camera, making a V-sign with his fingers, or stylishly stroking his hair.

The shutter clicked rapidly. Although photographer Tanaka was pressing the shutter, his expression remained numb—these photos had no quality whatsoever and were purely meant to be printed in idol magazines to amuse young girls.

"Okay, that was good! Next!"

Tanaka put down his camera, let out a long sigh, grabbed the towel around his neck to wipe his sweat, and said with obvious fatigue and perfunctoriness, "The one playing the painter, Kitahara, right? Come here."

Matsumoto left surrounded by a group of assistants, not even raising his eyelids as he passed by Kitahara Shin.

Kitahara Shin stood up, but instead of rushing to the center of the backdrop, he first glanced at the lighting setup above his head.

The main light is at a 45-degree angle to the left front, and the rim light is at the right rear, used to outline the hair strands.

This is a classic lighting setup, but it also puts a lot of pressure on the model's positioning. If the model stands even slightly off-center, their face will either be overexposed or appear as a completely dark face.

He walked to the round stool in front of the easel, but instead of sitting down directly, he gently moved the stool five centimeters to the left with his toes.

Tanaka, who was about to give instructions on positioning, paused for a moment.

That five centimeters is exactly where the main light falls softest, also known as the "sweet spot".

"Not bad, you do know a bit about the rules." Tanaka muttered, his furrowed brows relaxing slightly. "I'll give you five minutes. Just strike a melancholy pose, don't cover your face."

"Okay, thank you for your help."

Kitahara Shin nodded politely.

The moment he sat down, he slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingertips touching the cold metal casing.

[Equipment: The Silver Zippo Discarded by the Songstress]

The costume fitting photos don't need that kind of heart-wrenching acting; that would be too exaggerated and seem like overacting.

All that's needed is a little bit of the right atmosphere.

He turned slightly to the side, lowered his center of gravity, and picked up a dry paintbrush used as a prop.

Then, he lowered his head, his gaze falling on the tip of the paintbrush.

In that instant, the surrounding noise seemed to be isolated by some invisible force field.

Under the soft glow of the lights, his slightly wavy long hair covered half of his eyebrows and eyes, revealing a tight and pale jawline.

Although those eyes weren't looking at the camera, the serenity they exuded was like an old oil painting sealed by the dust of time.

Lonely, but not destitute.

Like a dusty poetry collection in the corner of an old bookstore.

"Click."

Tanaka's fingers instinctively pressed the shutter.

"Raise your chin by two millimeters."

Kitahara Shin's micro-movement.

"Click."

"Look at your left shoulder."

Kitahara Shin slightly raised his eyelids, but his gaze remained unfocused, maintaining that sense of detachment.

"Click, click, click."

The shutter sound became light and rhythmic.

Tanaka became more and more comfortable taking photos.

It felt so good. The model knew exactly where the camera was, where the light was, and even knew to control her breathing to keep her body steady the moment the shutter was pressed.

There's absolutely no need for him to teach you how to pose like a child.

The one hour allotted for the "third male lead" to film had only been completed in ten minutes.

"Great! Perfect!"

Tanaka put down his camera, a genuine smile appearing on his face for the first time that day. "These negatives are excellent; they can be developed and used right away."

Not far away, the producer, who was chatting with the coordinator, heard the commotion and looked over in surprise: "It's finished filming already?"

"Finished shooting, all usable shots, almost zero wasted footage." Tanaka pointed to the sample film ejected by Polaroid and praised generously, "This kid has a great sense of the camera, saving me a lot of film."

The producer took the sample footage, glanced at it, nodded thoughtfully, and circled Kitahara Shin's name.

In this efficiency-driven industrial system, "easy to use," "cost-effective," and "hassle-free" are often more appealing to investors.

Kitahara Shin stood up, deactivated his equipment, and reverted to his gentle and humble self.

"Thank you all for your hard work."

He bowed to the staff to express his gratitude, and then walked towards the changing area.

The stylist in charge of the costume was a woman in her thirties named Miwako. She had been watching the whole thing from the side, and when she saw Kitahara Shin approaching and preparing to take off the linen shirt, she suddenly reached out and stopped him.

"Hey, wait a minute."

Miwako looked Kitahara Shin up and down, her eyes filled with admiration. "This shirt was a sample purchased by the production team and wasn't originally in stock. I think it fits you better than... cough, better than a plastic mannequin."

She lowered her voice and blinked: "Just wear it as your personal clothes. It'll just end up in storage anyway, which is a shame."

This shirt is made of pure linen, which is not cheap in those days; it would cost at least 20,000 yen per piece.

Kitahara Shin paused for a moment, then smiled sincerely: "Really? Thank you so much, Miwako-nee. I just happen to need a new outfit for the changing season."

This natural "Miwako-nee" clearly pleased the other person.

Miwako was in a great mood and turned around to pick up an exquisite multi-tiered food box from the table next to her.

"And this too, take it."

"This is?"

"That was a premium yakiniku bento prepared for Matsumoto-kun from Jojoen, but he found it too greasy and didn't touch it in order to maintain his figure."

Miwako pouted and stuffed the still-warm bento into Kitahara Shin's arms. "It's a waste to throw it away. You're still growing and you're a newcomer, so eat more meat."

A premium bento box at Jojoen costs 3,000 yen, a luxury that Kitahara Shin, who is currently eating discounted rice balls, can only dream of.

The bento box in her arms exuded an enticing aroma of grilled meat, and the linen shirt she wore felt soft and comfortable to the touch.

Kitahara Shin walked out of the photography studio carrying a bento box.

The rain outside had stopped, and a few stars were peeking out in the Tokyo night sky, a rare sight indeed.

Although they were just two small things, a piece of clothing and a bento box.

But in this circle, there's no need to put on airs and slap people in the face. As long as you're good at your job, talk little, and make things easy for others, people will naturally be willing to show you some kindness.

"It's still more practical to have meat to eat."

Kitahara Shin walked briskly toward the tram stop.

This was the first decent dinner he had in this bubble era.