Gangster to Idol

"N-nothing. B-by the way, what do you need Idol Points for?" Cain quickly changed the topic, hoping to avoid another flick to his forehead.

Fifi blinked, then chuckled. "Fufufu~. Do you want to know?"

"On second thought, NO."

"Then let me tell you," Fifi said, ignoring Cain's protest. "Us Idol Goddesses use Idol Points to increase our powers!"

"I see."

"Please pretend to be more interested."

"Wait . . . you said 'us'? There's more of you?"

Fifi nodded. "That's right. But don't dwell on that detail too much. Your mortal brain wouldn't be able to comprehend."

Cain frowned but chose not to comment further, mostly because he didn't want to know just how many little devils were out there. He had bigger issues to deal with. He needed to focus on his daily tasks and make a decision about what to do with his hair right now.

The journey to becoming an idol was turning out to be far more complicated and annoying than he had anticipated. He never imagined that something as simple as a haircut would carry so much time and decision. Every choice he made seemed to ripple out, affecting his reputation and the delicate balance he maintained between his old life and his new one.

Cain took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was just another battle, and he was determined to be the victor in the end.

"Anyway, I'm not going to buy it. That's too expensive," Cain said, turning away from the screen.

"Where are you going?" Fifi asked, floating beside him.

"To a barber shop."

"Are you sure that's wise? Fufufu~, you might end up regretting it."

"I'd regret it more if I cut myself with scissors and ended up with no hair or, worse, in debt to you." Cain muttered, not wanting to be indebted to a devil.

Cain slipped out of his room, moving slowly and stealthily down the stairs, careful not to wake the others. Each creak of the old wood under his feet made him wince, his senses on high alert.

"You're up early."

Cain flinched, caught off guard. When he looked over, it was just Joker, sipping a beer with a bleary-eyed gaze.

"What are you doing up this early?" Cain asked, though it was already past nine.

Joker tilted his head to the side, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "I could ask the same about you. This isn't your usual time to wake up."

"Shut up. I have something to do."

Joker raised an eyebrow and chugged the bottle. "Anyway, I'm trying to get rid of the hangover. I'm going back to bed."

Joker swayed past Cain, and the latter sighed in relief, thankful his friend was too drunk to pry or, worse, insist on tagging along. Joker could be clingy, and his mouth often ran wild.

Cain was about to resume his mission when he heard a thud followed by Joker collapsing to the floor.

"What the . . . ?" Cain was appalled to see Joker had hit the wall and instantly fallen asleep on the ground.

Fifi materialized and laughed wickedly. "Is he still alive?"

"Don't kill my friend just yet." Cain grumbled, helping Joker to his feet and dragging the dead weight over to the sofa. The effort left him slightly winded, but he managed to lay Joker down without incident.

"You really need a new set of friends. They're a bad influence on you," Fifi commented.

"Leave me and my friends alone. I'm already doing this stupid idol thing, so leave my personal life out of this."

As the two argued, Joker's eyes slowly half-opened, and the blurry image of Cain appeared in his view. He heard something about an idol and drifted back to sleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of Raneisha, the most popular idol right now.

Cain, are you starting to appreciate idols too? Joker thought and laughed creepily in his sleep.

=== ⭐ ===

"For getting a haircut, why do you have to take a train?" Fifi asked, eyeing Cain from the side. "And what's with the weird get-up?"

Cain was sporting a hoodie, cargo pants, a hat, sunglasses, and a mask.

"You look like you're up to no good."

"Shut up," Cain growled, lowering his voice when he attracted some attention.

"I don't want to cut my hair at the local barber in my district. I'm pretty well-known in District 4, and I'm not going to risk cutting my long hair there. People would surely ask about it, and I don't want to answer any questions as why I did it."

"Huh? I don't get you. If you're going to cut your hair and style it short, wouldn't the others still know about it?"

Cain smirked. "That's where you're wrong. True, I'm going to cut my hair, but I'll wear it as a wig. It's like nothing change." he chortled. It was a genius idea, if he did say so himself.

Fifi looked at Cain with pity in her eyes.

"What? Why are you staring at me like I'm an idiot?"

"Because you are. Why go through all that trouble if you could just come clean about it?"

"You don't know nothing, do you?" Cain said condescendingly.

Fifi didn't like his tone one bit. "Huh? Are you calling me ignorant? Just so you know, I'm much older than you."

"You know about idol stuff, but you don't know a thing about gangster life in my world," he said with a prideful grin. "Listen up, in the gangster world, the longer your hair, the more it signifies that you've never lost a fight!

"As a gangster leader, losing a fight is the ultimate shame. Cutting your hair is a punishment, a mark of defeat. In our world, the longer your hair, the stronger you are, and the more respect you command."

Fifi stared at Cain, incredulous, though her face remained impassive. "Who in their right mind came up with such a ridiculous rule?"

Cain laughed a little. "No one. It's a silent rule that everyone unknowingly agreed upon."

Fifi's lips puckered slightly. She was sure it was one of those instances where thugs wanted to justify their long hair and made up silly things that idiots followed until it turned into something like a rule.