The Price of Perfection – Striving for that Ideal Image      

After what felt like an eternity, the trainee finally completed Cain's haircut. Meanwhile, he left the delicate task of transforming the cut hair into a wig to the professionals.

He didn't dare handle something as delicate as making a wig, especially with Cain's death stare burning into him the entire time.

The trainee sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The style had turned out surprisingly well, if he did say so himself.

He had been certain it would be a complete disaster!

Cain's hair was now a masterpiece of edgy sophistication. The sides were shaved close, tapering up into a neat undercut that accentuated his strong jawline and cheekbones.

The top was left longer, styled into a textured quiff that added height and volume, giving him a modern, rebellious look. The strands at the front were artfully tousled, adding a touch of controlled chaos that matched his rugged persona.

The rich grey hair, streaked with subtle highlights, caught the light with every movement, adding depth and dimension to the style.

The overall effect was a perfect blend of polished and raw, making Cain look every bit of a celebrity. 

The wig, crafted with the same meticulous attention to detail, mirrored the length and texture of his previous hair, ensuring that his previous look could be maintained seamlessly.

The trainee had outdone himself, transforming Cain's rough edges into a sharp, striking silhouette that spoke of power and intensity.

Good thing that the hair matched his face . . . the trainee thought. Wait . . .

The trainee paused, staring in disbelief at his own handiwork. He wasn't supposed to be able to cut this type of hair, let alone match it perfectly to his client's face.

As he snipped away, he had been leaving it all to fate, praying hard that everything would work out in the end.

Could this be . . . The trainee's eyes widened as a remarkable thought crossed his mind.

Could this be one of those rare individuals who, no matter the haircut, could wear it like a star?

The cut was edgy and sophisticated, perfectly complementing Cain's rugged features and piercing gaze. It was as if the style was made for him, exuding an aura of raw power and intensity.

The trainee marveled at how the hair seemed to fall into place naturally, enhancing Cain's already intimidating presence.

This was no ordinary client. Cain was one of those rare people who could turn any look into a statement, radiating confidence and charisma.

The trainee couldn't believe his luck; he had just given a haircut to someone who could effortlessly pull off a star-worthy style.

"What?!" Cain snarled when he noticed the trainee looking at him with a blushing face and gooey eyes. "I have the money here. I won't run away," he said, shoving the hundred bills into the trainee's hand as he grabbed his wig. He was in a surprisingly good mood; the wig had turned out better than he expected.

Cain then strode out of the salon, unaware that the others were gaping at him.

"Who's that guy?"

"I thought he looked scary at first, but he's so hot."

"Did you see his eyes? My god, they're like those famous smoldering eyes in dramas."

"His eyebrows are so thick too; I want to pluck them myself."

The girls giggled, and the older patrons sighed, regretting that they were no longer young.

Cain, on the other hand, was searching for Fifi. "Where did that devil go?" he muttered to himself.

He then spotted a group of girls taking pictures of him and snarled, "Fuck off!"

The girls immediately scattered, scared and embarrassed.

Then he saw Fifi across the street, her face plastered against an ice cream stall.

"That little . . ." Cain muttered, heading over to her. "You want that?" he asked, not waiting for her reply as he bought an ice cream cone.

"I don't remember saying that I like this childish, creamy, delicious-looking thing . . ." Fifi's words caught in her throat when she saw Cain's new haircut.

"Y-you . . . who are you?" she gaped, though her face remained as stoic as ever.

Cain knocked her on the head. "Stop playing games and let's go home. Just eat this later when we're alone."

Before Fifi could react, Cain turned around and started walking towards the bus. Fifi immediately chased after him, flying around and around, unable to believe her eyes.

"What is it?" Cain asked, annoyed.

"Whoa . . . I'm surprised. After all that hair removed from your face, your features really stand out. I didn't know you could be this handsome!"

"Right," Cain replied, not particularly interested.

"No, really . . . this is perfect!" Fifi's lips curled into a smile, though it only appeared creepy because of her tight poker face. "Now becoming an idol won't be too far off a dream! With your looks, we can already start marketing your face on social media and build your popularity and fan base!"

"Hmm . . ." Cain wasn't too enthusiastic about that. He had already received +10 IP with his new haircut, bringing his total IP to 13.

Too low for his taste, but he couldn't complain. Where would he complain? Was there an email to the universe for his complaints? Because he would start with this little devil.

At the side, Fifi couldn't take her eyes off Cain. There was still much to improve, but his natural handsomeness shone through now that it wasn't concealed with all that hair.

No, from the start, the universe only chose individuals with the highest potential to become idols, so she should have expected this level of striking appearance.

Though there was still a lot of work to do. Cain's skin was still dry, his face had uneven texture, and there were small pimples popping up around his jawline and some on his cheeks. His lips were chapped and a little black.

He really needs to drink and smoke in moderation until he fully stops, Fifi thought.

Cain, on the other hand, wore his wig, and people instantly stayed clear of him, not making eye contact, unlike before when they doubled over and snapped pictures.

"Ara~ Are you shy of the attention?" Fifi teased.

Cain grumbled. "It's annoying." 

"It's called marketing. The more people recognize your face and snap pictures of you and post them on their social pages, the more popular you'll become."

Cain pretended he didn't hear anything.

"No worries, you'll get used to it in the future. It's part of being an idol."

Cain's eyelid twitched. This was his fate now, whether he liked it or not. One thing was for sure: he didn't want to die young and wanted to live out his days as the gangster leader of CROSS. If he had to live a double life from here on out . . . then so be it.