Gangster to Idol

Cain watched the scene unfold, quickly pegging Alexander as a playboy.

"What a man . . ." Fifi muttered beside him, still in awe.

"Huh? You mean a playboy, right?" Cain commented, half-amused.

Fifi snickered. "According to what I found out about Alexander Locke, he owns a multi-billion dollar business, and this salon? Just a hobby. Classic 'Daddy' behavior. He probably has a string of women, and they're all willing to share just to be with him and spend his money."

"What are you talking about?"

"You should strive for that too, Cain. With a face like yours, the only missing is the 'deep pockets,' and you could have all the women lining up, willing to tolerate each other just to stay by your side."

Cain frowned. "Why would I want a headache like that?"

Fifi nodded to herself, ignoring Cain's confusion. "They say any man can be a father, but it takes a hot, middle-aged guy with power to be a 'Daddy.'"

Cain deadpanned. "You're not making any sense."

Victor, one of the head hairstylists, called out. "Hey, newbie."

Cain pointed at himself. "Are you talking to me?"

Victor nodded, beckoning him over with a slight curl of his fingers.

Cain grumbled under his breath and approached. "What is it?" He didn't like the way he was calling him.

Victor was known for his precision in cutting hair, and gestured towards a middle-aged man seated in the chair. The client exuded refinement with short, salt-and-pepper hair, a serpent-shaped silver ring, and the most eye-catching watch on his wrist.

Cain nearly drooled over the watch. It was none other than the Patek Philippe Celestial Orionium Limited Edition, a masterpiece among masterpieces.

The platinum case, adorned with blue and black sapphires, shimmered like a night sky. The dial was an intricate star map of the Orion constellation, hand-painted with enamel and micro-set diamonds.

The transparent sapphire case back revealed the exquisitely crafted movement, complete with a tourbillon and perpetual calendar. The deep midnight blue alligator leather strap finished the celestial theme, making it the ultimate symbol of luxury.

Fifi lightly tapped Cain's cheek. "Hey, you're drooling," she whispered.

Mr. Richardson, the client, eyed Cain sharply. "Is everything alright, young man?" His voice was smooth but carried an edge.

Victor quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Mr. Richardson."

Mr. Richardson raised his hand, silencing him. "I'm not talking to you, Victor. You've been my stylist from the beginning, and if you think this newbie can style my hair better than you, I won't object. However, be aware — there will be consequences if I'm not satisfied."

Victor remained stone-faced, bowing slightly, while Cain sensed something more beneath the surface.

Mr. Richardson radiated power, his gaze was intense and his aura was overwhelming, but why was Victor handing off such a high-profile client to him? Was he setting him up for failure?

Cain glanced at Victor, who met his eyes with a challenging look, daring him to back down. But Cain wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. If anything, he thrived on them.

"Very well . . ." Cain flicked his [Celestial Comb] out. "If you don't mind, I prefer to use my own tools. I'm most comfortable with this."

Victor didn't bat an eye. "Go ahead. Just make sure it's sanitized first."

Cain followed the proper procedures before positioning himself behind Mr. Richardson. The man's hair was cut shorter than Cain would've liked, leaving little room for creative styling.

Mr. Richardson had sharp jawline and perpetually frowning face, making him appear stern and unapproachable.

Cain's mind raced. What style could possibly suit this man? Could the [Celestial Comb] even handle this?

Cain cursed himself for not testing it on others beforehand.

There was only one way to find out. He gently combed through Mr. Richardson's hair, and the moment the comb touched it, Cain felt a strange sensation. It was as if the comb was guiding his hand, showing him the perfect style for this powerful man.

A smile tugged at Cain's lips. His hand moved, guided by the [Celestial Comb] as it seemed to channel the perfect style into his mind. He began by gently lifting Mr. Richardson's hair, shaping the short strands into a sleek and modern look.

Cain focused on creating a low-fade that blended seamlessly into the natural salt-and-pepper color, giving the sides a clean, sharp edge that accentuated the client's strong jawline.

Cain then worked on the top, leaving just enough length to add texture and volume. Using the comb, he crafted a subtle quiff that added height without being too flashy, striking the perfect balance between sophistication and boldness. The quiff flowed smoothly towards the back, creating a refined silhouette that matched Mr. Richardson's dignified presence.

To finish, Cain applied a matte pomade, ensuring a natural, understated shine that kept the style looking polished without appearing overly styled. The overall effect was timeless yet contemporary — a look that exuded authority and class, befitting a man of Mr. Richardson's stature.

As Cain put down the comb, he could see the subtle change in Mr. Richardson's expression as he examined himself in the mirror. The man's usual sternness softened slightly, replaced by a look of deep satisfaction. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the texture and appreciating the skill behind the transformation.

"What's your name young man?" Mr. Richardson asked.

"C.C."

"Do you know how to cut a hair?"

"No."

"From now on . . . ," Mr. Richardson said, his voice low but carrying a note of approval. "Victor you will cut my hair while C.C will style it."

Cain grinned, pleased with the result. He turned to Victor, expecting at least a nod of acknowledgment, but Victor simply pretended not to notice, keeping his expression neutral as if nothing had happened.

Cain chuckled to himself, feeling like he had just passed a significant test. Even if Victor didn't show it, Cain could tell that he had made an impression — on both the client and the stoic man.

"Father," a soft voice of a woman suddenly called out. "Is your appointment over yet?"