Life is Easier If You're Handsome novel Chapter 315

[Always the same interviews. Always the same training clips.]

Always the same public saying “Could go either way.”

And fighters crafting fake drama just to raise the stakes.

After all, the most important thing in sports is attention. And doing everything to get it was only natural.

But—

“I just wanted to do it differently this time.”

Suddenly, Donghu found himself tired of the best practices.

It wasn’t his final fight. If he really planned to unify the entire heavyweight division—

How many more times would he have to repeat this same routine?

Over and over again, same old act. Then on fight day, give it his all, win or lose, and the crowd erupts—and that’s it.

Sure, the most important part was the performance in the ring. Everything else was just setup to support that moment.

“But the process always being the same—it bugs me.”

From an entertainment standpoint, it didn’t sit well with him. He wanted something more provocative. More fun. He wanted to consume even more attention.

So he came up with something.

“You’re saying... pretend to be partying hard?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Huh... well... okay.”

The plan was to spam SNS with fake party photos. He didn’t even need to actually party.

Leak some rumors about being spotted at a Hollywood casino. Make one public appearance placing a bet—and that’s it.

Rumors are a terrifying thing. He only went once, but suddenly he was labeled a gambling addict.

Then came supposed sightings at casinos he never visited. Some claimed they made billions copying his bets.

After a week, people whispered he was blacklisted from Macao. After two weeks, there were rumors he traveled nonstop just to gamble.

One single photo had created the perfect marketing storm.

“Boss, doesn’t all this gossip hurt your image?”

Jack, the head of Drake Gym, asked. Donghu just shrugged.

“You don’t have to worry too much about that.”

“Mind if I ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) ask why not?”

“Because they’re not just messing with me when they talk shit about me.”

“What?”

“Relax.”

There were two reasons for that confidence.

First, it was all just talk. None of it real. And recreational gambling at legal venues wasn’t that controversial—at least not before a match.

Second—his sponsors were in a whole different league.

We’re talking world-class corporations.

Could the media really take shots at him without brushing up against them? Could they walk that razor-thin line?

Not many journalists had that kind of finesse.

“What’s scary about these companies is that they don’t even need to yell.”

If their image was threatened, their legal teams would quietly send an email—

And that would be the end of it.

So yeah, people talked. But no one crossed the line.

“Big-name media has bigger stories to chase—they won’t risk it on me gambling.”

Smaller outlets didn’t have the power to challenge his sponsors. So in this strange in-between zone, Donghu did everything he wanted.

“Make sure there’s some expensive alcohol in the shot too. Whiskey, maybe.”

“Should I post a photo of you drinking it?”

“Sure. Just don’t go overboard.”

He pretended to drink. But no women, no sleaze. Just a stylish party vibe.

And he didn’t even need to do most of it himself. Because—

“Haha, I never imagined I’d get to experience something like this.”

“Thank you for helping out.”

“No, thank you. Getting to play Kim Donghu’s double outside of a movie? Unreal.”

“Still, it’s risky. People might get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t worry about it. That moment you played with my son dressed as Batman and started giving him life advice... Haha. Just thinking about it makes me emotional.”

Donghu had a body double. Didn’t even need to match the face.

All the uploaded photos had sunglasses and masks. All they needed to suggest was “Donghu in disguise, having fun.”

As the fight date approached, they increased the double’s usage.

And during that time, Donghu was—

“Boss! Wait! You’re gonna kill yourself! You don’t need to push this hard!”

“No—we have to keep going under extreme conditions. Lower the oxygen.”

“This is way too hypoxic. You might feel fine now, but your brain—”

“Just one more set, okay? Pass me the oxygen mask.”

“Ten sparring rounds in a row... with an oxygen mask... You’re insane.”

He sharpened his body to its limit.

***

Time passed fast.

And the longer it passed, the more people gave up on Kim Donghu.

This kind of performance had been done before, so people figured he’d come back eventually.

But then—

[Thought this was just WWE but WTF]

– Turns out it’s straight-up UFC

– He’s not even posting on Insta anymore

ㄴ Thought it was some wild prank

ㄴ But now there’s just nothing

ㄴ Weren’t you “Mr. Fan Service,” Donghu?

[Donghu... please stop, this hurts now]

– This isn’t like you

– You used to go live at least once a month

– I get that you’re not an idol, but still...

– Goddamn it...

ㄴ Feels like he’s training us like pets. Hurts so bad.

ㄴ I’m actually getting hot-headed over this

ㄴ ㄴ And what can you do, dumbass? What can you do?

– He will win! 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

“Right! Exactly!”

Bill nodded.

The pre-match press conference and face-off—usually held 2–3 weeks before the match—was unavoidable. Mandatory.

What kind of wreck would Donghu show up as? Even imagining that moment made Zain giddy.

He got right back to training. And finally—three weeks before the match—

“Before we begin the press conference, we’ll introduce the fighters.”

Press conference day had arrived.

***

Normally, there would be two press conferences: one three weeks out, one a week out.

But due to overlapping with a UFC event, they’d agreed to just one at the three-week mark.

So this was it—the first and final official press conference.

Cameras crowded in. Journalists racked their brains for the right questions.

Then—

“Zain Lance, entering now.”

Zain Lance stepped into the room. Camera flashes erupted.

“Thanks for the welcome. But hey—wasn’t some drunk pig supposed to show up today? When’s he coming?”

A sharp jab, right off the bat. His mic work earned chuckles from the reporters.

Because yeah—Kim Donghu had been partying, no doubt about that.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.

And then—

“Kim Donghu, entering now.”

Right on cue, Kim Donghu walked in, chugging from a bottle.

Unsteady steps. Glazed, cloudy eyes.

He looked like a total fool. Zain Lance and the reporters were ready to confirm the rumors—

Until—

“Huh? Something’s off.”

One journalist spotted something strange. Sure, his face screamed “burned-out gambling addict”—

“...Right?”

But the way he was hiding his body?

Way too suspicious.

Was he covering up belly fat?

Then, for a moment, the heat of the conference lights made his clothes cling to his body—

And in that instant, the reporters saw it.

“Wait. His body... What the hell? Did you see that?”

A flash of a peak-form physique—unveiled for the first time.

And somewhere in the room—

“...”

Someone’s smile faded.

“...Fuck.”

A quiet curse slipped out.