Gangster to Idol

"What happened?" Cain mumbled as he opened his eyes, finding himself in a sterile white room.

"You're in the infirmary," Fifi's voice chimed in, her tone a mix of concern and amusement. "This is the first time I've seen you faint." She snickered, clearly enjoying the situation.

She was truly a little devil.

"I passed out?"

"Yep. With your mouth foaming like you were poisoned or something. Impressive, really — seems like you can't handle a woman's touch at all," Fifi remarked, her voice laced with teasing.

Cain groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth. "I let my guard down. It wouldn't have happened if I'd been more careful."

Fifi shrugged, hovering near him with a playful smile. "It's fine. You survived the whole ordeal, so that's enough. And hey, at least you didn't puke this time."

Cain glanced at the clock and noticed it was already past five in the afternoon. "The salon's about to close," he muttered, quickly standing up and straightening his clothes and hair before heading out.

As he entered the salon, Victor looked up and greeted him. "Oh, C.C., you're awake! What happened back there? You alright?"

Cain nodded curtly. "Yeah, just tired."

Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't blame you. Styling Felice's hair is no small feat. Anyone would pass out after dealing with her and coming out unscathed."

Cain let Victor think whatever he liked. He had more pressing matters to deal with. "Where's Jackson?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

Cain hadn't forgotten what that jackass had done. If Jackson didn't return the Celestial Comb, he'd definitely be getting a beating.

"Jackson? He's in the locker room," Victor replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Why?"

Cain didn't bother answering. His jaw clenched as he stormed toward the locker room, each step heavy. Fifi floated beside him, her expression shifting from playful to serious.

"Cain, remember to keep it civil," she reminded him, her voice soft but firm.

Cain said nothing, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter. He wasn't going to let Jackson off easily. No one steals from him and get away with it.

"Of course, I'll be civil," Cain said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "As long as he gives me back the comb, everything will be just fine."

With that, Cain marched into the locker room, where Jackson was gathering his things, ready to head home. But before he could leave, Cain blocked his path.

"While I'm still asking nicely, hand over my comb," Cain demanded, his voice calm but with a dangerous edge.

Jackson feigned ignorance, shrugging nonchalantly. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," Cain's voice dropped an octave, his patience wearing thin. "I know you took it, so give it back before I stop being polite."

Jackson smirked, but the moment he glanced into C.C.s eyes, the smirk faded. The intensity in C.C.s silver eyes was unnerving, and the air around him seemed to grow heavier, more menacing. The playful atmosphere vanished, replaced by a suffocating tension.

Still, Jackson wasn't about to admit to anything. Handing back the comb would be as good as confessing to the theft. "I said I don't know what you're talking about."

BaAamM!

Jackson flinched as Cain's fist slammed into the door beside him, the impact reverberating through the room. He could feel the heat radiating off Cain's body, the unspoken threat hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

"W-what?! Are you seriously going to beat me up over some baseless accusations? I'll warn you now, fighting is prohibited here, and I'll make sure our boss hears about this. You're accusing me of a crime I didn't commit, and now you're threatening me?"

Cain didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, his expression unreadable. The silence was unnerving, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, his face melted into a chilling smile.

"Is that so?" Cain's voice was unsettlingly soft. "Sorry to waste your time then."

He stepped aside, allowing Jackson to pass. Jackson didn't need any further encouragement; he hurriedly scurried past C.C., trying to shake off the fear that had suddenly gripped him. Despite his bravado, something about C.C.s presence had unnerved him deeply.

As Jackson left, Fifi appeared beside Cain, relief evident in her voice. "Whew, I thought you were going to lose it and beat him up. I was ready to flick you on the forehead again if I had to."

When Cain didn't respond, Fifi glanced at him and froze. His face was twisted into an evil smile, his eyes darkened with something far more sinister than she was used to seeing.

"W-what?" Fifi stammered, her usual playful demeanor faltering in the face of Cain's unsettling expression.

Cain's grin widened slightly. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how much fun it's going to be when Jackson realizes what's coming for him."

"That guy definitely has my comb," Cain muttered to himself, his voice low. "I would've let it slide if he'd just handed it over, but since he wants to play it this way . . . I'm going to teach him a lesson he won't forget. Nobody steals from me."

Fifi hovered nearby, watching Cain's expression darken. She took a deep breath, shaking her head. "Just make sure no one finds out it was you. And Cain . . .

don't kill him," she added, her voice taking on a resigned tone.

Despite her words, Fifi wasn't entirely against the idea. Jackson had been grating on her nerves for a while now, with his smug attitude and slippery ways. The thought of him getting a taste of his own medicine was oddly satisfying.

She was a goddess sure, but she was an Idol-Idol Goddess. Not the nice-nice goddess.

Fifi could almost see what Cain was planning, and truth be told, she didn't mind it one bit. Jackson was the kind of guy who'd never admit to his faults, and now he was trying to turn the tables by threatening to report Cain to the owner for false accusations? The nerve of that guy. He needed to be put in his place.

Cain's silver eyes gleamed with a cold intensity, his mind already working out the details. "Don't worry," he said, his voice dripping with quiet menace. "No one will know it was me."

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