Gangster to Idol

In the end, Cain accepted his fate and agreed to style Felice's hair. He was betting everything on his gloves and the advice Fifi had given him to overcome his deepest aversion — women.

|| SPECIAL MISSION ||

Style Felice Richardson's hair in a way that makes her look favorably upon you. [REWARD: 500 IP]

|| E N D ||

Cain froze as a notification suddenly appeared in front of him, visible only to him. The words hovered in the air, daring him to take on the challenge.

"500 IP for just this mission?" Cain muttered to himself, surprised. The generous reward was enough to light a fire of motivation in him, even though he was still hesitant about the whole ordeal. The compensation, however, made it more bearable.

Fifi was flying on the side and was equally stunned. A special mission with a reward of 500 IP was rare and unusually generous for something that seemed so simple.

But Fifi knew better. She knew that the reward reflected the true difficulty of the mission. Cain's condition was a serious obstacle, and overcoming it, even in something as seemingly small as touching a woman's hair, was the first step toward breaking free from his fears.

Felice flashed a sweet smile as she gracefully settled into the chair, watching C.C. approached with his constipated face.

"Just keep the style simple," Victor whispered to Cain as he passed by. "This is a woman you really don't want to aggravate," he warned, leaving C.C. to his task.

Jackson, however, wasn't as composed. He shot Cain a cold glare before turning to leave. As he passed by, Jackson intentionally bumped into Cain.

Cain was too preoccupied with his own thoughts, and didn't notice when Jackson's nimble fingers slipped into his pocket, snatching the Celestial Comb with the practiced ease of a master thief.

Jackson had grown up as a pickpocket, honing his craft on the streets before discovering his talent for styling hair. Though he'd left that life behind, old habits had a way of resurfacing whenever he wanted something he couldn't easily obtain. And today, that something was the white comb that C.C. always used.

Pickpocketing from a distracted target was second nature to Jackson, especially when the target was as disoriented as C.C. seemed to be.

"Watch it, newbie," Jackson sneered as he pocketed the Celestial Comb. "You don't know who you're messing with."

Jackson walked off with a smug grin, leaving Cain oblivious to the theft as he approached Felice.

Up close, Cain noticed that Felice's hair was a mesmerizing blend of pink and purple, shifting in hue depending on the light and her outfit. Today, she was dressed in a shimmering bodycon dress that complemented her hair perfectly.

"What's the matter?" Felice asked when she noticed C.C. staring at her hair. "Still thinking of what style to go with?"

Cain didn't answer. He felt like he had walked into a trap, one he wouldn't be in if it weren't for her. With trembling hands, he reached out for her hair, testing the waters.

Cain took a steady, deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He mentally pictured a man with long hair, just as Fifi had instructed him.

This is not a woman. This is not a woman. Cain repeated in his mind like a mantra. It's just a man with a woman's face.

As his gloved fingers touched Felice's hair, Cain braced for the familiar wave of revulsion. But against all odds, the gloves and his mental trick were working. The recoil he feared didn't come.

Both Fifi and Cain sighed in relief, though Cain's heart was still pounding hard in his chest. The fact that his ailment wasn't triggering brought him a small measure of comfort.

"See? Everything's turning out fine," Fifi whispered encouragingly in his head. "Maybe you don't even need the gloves."

"I'm not taking any chances," Cain muttered, keeping a careful distance from Felice's skin. Handling her hair was one thing, but the thought of his fingers accidentally brushing against her skin sent a jolt of unease through him. He wasn't ready to test his limits — not yet.

"Hmm? What was that?" Felice asked, glancing up from her phone.

"Nothing," Cain muttered, refocusing on the task at hand.

Felice pursed her lips but returned her attention to her phone. Occasionally, her eyes drifted back to C.C.'s face. There was something magnetic about him — an allure that drew her in the more she looked at him. Even though his skin was dry, his lips were chapped, and some of his pores were visible, he had a rugged charm that was hard to ignore.

Cain, on the other hand, wasn't aware of her thoughts, and was ready to begin styling Felice's hair. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his comb, only to find it missing.

"What the—?!" Cain patted his pockets, searching frantically, but the comb was nowhere to be found.

"What's wrong?" Both Fifi and Felice asked simultaneously, their eyes on him with curiosity.

"N-nothing," Cain quickly answered Felice while his thoughts raced.

'The comb is gone!' he mentally informed Fifi.

'What do you mean the comb is gone?!' Fifi nearly shouted in his mind. 'Did you misplace it?'

'Of course not! I never misplace something that expensive. I always keep it in my pocket!' Cain shot back with growing frustration.

Wait . . . Cain paused, his mind replaying the events. His head slowly turned toward Jackson. He distinctly remembered having the comb when he was talking to Victor.

It had only gone missing after that guy bumped into him a while ago.

Cain wasn't new to the concept of stealing. As a gang leader, he was well aware that some of his members had developed pickpocketing skills, often using them to fund their vices.

"That guy . . ." Cain's eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth. Jackson had stolen the comb; Cain was sure of it.

'Don't worry,' Fifi interjected, trying to calm him down. 'The comb can't be used by anyone else but you. In another's hands, it's just a regular comb.'

'Even so, I need that comb!' Cain insisted, his frustration boiling over.

'Hold it! What are you planning to do?' Fifi demanded.

'Just going to confront him, man to man.'

'Right now? In the middle of styling Felice's hair?'

Cain froze.

'Get it back later. If you make a scene right now, it'll only draw unwanted attention,' Fifi advised, her tone serious.

Cain clenched his fists, his anger simmering just below the surface. Every instinct screamed at him to confront Jackson right then and there, but he knew Fifi was right. Causing a scene without proof could backfire, especially since he was still new to the workplace.

Cain forced himself to stay composed, swallowing his frustration for now. There would be a time and place for payback — just not here, not yet.

For now, he had to play it cool. He'd get the comb back later — one way or another.