Gangster to Idol

It wasn't just the teenagers and idol fans glued to RRR — even Daddy's Salon had the show playing on its massive screens.

Celebrities, actors, and other high-profile clients were fixated on the broadcast, scouting for future stars or simply enjoying the fierce competition.

Most idols, though, were only interested in scoping out their future competition.

Jackson was in the middle of styling one of his regulars, Gerald, a mid-tier actor who liked to act like he was an A-lister. Despite his usual arrogance, even Gerald's eyes were glued to the screen, watching intently as C.C., competed.

"Hey, isn't that guy one of your employees?" Gerald asked, pointing at the screen.

Jackson's frown deepened as he grunted in response. "Yeah."

He couldn't deny the bitter taste in his mouth every time someone mentioned C.C. — the rising star who worked at the same salon.

The fame was getting to him, not just because he was overshadowed, but because people now came to Daddy's Salon just to meet C.C.

They didn't want Jackson to style their hair anymore; they wanted him.

The security had to be doubled recently to handle the influx of obsessed fans.

And yet, Big Daddy, the salon's owner, seemed thrilled about the whole thing. The boost in popularity meant more business, and as long as that was happening, C.C. wasn't going anywhere.

Meanwhile, across the salon, Victor and the rest of the team gathered around the screen to cheer on C.C. Even if it was just through a TV screen.

Daddy's Salon was on the map, but for all the wrong reasons in Jackson's eyes.

Jackson ran his fingers through Gerald's hair, trying to push the thought out of his head.

"C.C.'s just a fad," Gerald muttered under his breath.

Jackson blinked, unsure if he'd heard Gerald right. "What was that?"

"That guy, C.C.? He's just a fad," Gerald sneered, laughing smugly. "He'll be out of the spotlight soon enough. Just watch."

Jackson didn't agree. C.C. was gaining momentum by the day, and with every victory, Jackson's own jealousy simmered. Yet, something inside him stirred — an odd sense of loyalty. Insulting C.C. was one thing, but hearing an outsider trash him?

That felt personal. Like Gerald was insulting the whole salon, like he was insulting Jackson himself.

"I think C.C. will make it as an idol," Jackson said, forcing a smile.

Gerald smirked, his eyes gleaming with condescension. "Trust me, I've seen my fair share of trainees in this industry. Becoming an idol? That's a long shot. Most spend at least five years just trying to debut. And when they finally make it, their fame lasts, what?

Two years? Before a newer, fresher group takes the spotlight."

He chuckled, crossing his arms. "By the time they get famous, they're already old news — if they even get the chance to debut at all."

Jackson gritted his teeth, running the comb forcefully through Gerald's hair. "I think C.C. has a real shot."

Gerald glared. "What, you calling me a liar?"

Jackson snapped out of his thoughts and beamed, though his smile was tight. "Of course not. But C.C.'s already got a ton of fans. He's handsome and has over a million followers."

Gerald rolled his eyes. "Looks can only take you so far. And millions of followers don't mean squat if none of them truly support you. Besides, the kid can dance, but his voice is mediocre at best — and in the idol world, that's what really matters."

Jackson could only nod. "You're right." But he couldn't help but chip off a small section of Gerald's hair in silence.

After Gerald left, Victor approached Jackson, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. "I'm surprised. I thought you hated C.C. Why defend him now?"

Jackson frowned and shrugged off Victor's hand. "I just don't like outsiders talking trash about one of our own." It was fine he was the one doing the insulting though.

He headed toward the locker room, leaving Victor chuckling behind him. Victor watched as Jackson walked away with a small smile on his face. He's embarrassed, huh? Must've hit a nerve.

The salon door swung open, and in walked C.C. Everyone stopped, even the clients, their eyes following him.

"W-What's going on?" Cain asked, sensing the strange energy in the room.

"C.C.! You're here!"

"Congrats, man! You killed it on the first episode of RRR!"

"Yeah, you looked ice-cool out there!"

The salon staff gathered around Cain, offering their congratulations. Even Victor sauntered up, draping an arm around Cain's shoulder with a grin. "Great performance, C.C. Have you watched yourself on-screen yet?"

Cain glanced at the big-ass-screen TV in the salon, where his first episode was playing. A chill ran down his spine, and goosebumps prickled his skin. Watching himself felt . . . weird.

Even though he looked fine, the cringe was real.

Victor smirked. "By the way, why are you here, C.C.? Thought you were on a break?"

Cain scratched his head. "I need to work to make some money," he explained, detailing the next challenge on RRR.

Victor thought for a moment. "That's rough, man. Working with just a $400 budget? You can cut costs by reusing your old wardrobe, but the other trainees with big production backing will definitely outshine you."

"I messed up on the second episode," Cain muttered. "I need to make up for it by the third."

Victor nodded. "$400's tight. You can't even buy decent foundation or makeup with that."

Another staff member chimed in, "You can borrow some makeup here to cut costs."

But Cain shook his head firmly. "No. I don't want to take advantage of the salon's supplies. That's the salon's property, and I think it's time I invest in my own stuff."

Victor grinned. "Good call. Then we'll help you out."

"Huh?"

"I've got some clients coming in later. I'll convince them to let you style their hair," Victor said.

Other staff members raised their hands in support.

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"I'll convince some of mine too!"

"Mine as well!"

Cain blinked, stunned by the overwhelming support. He couldn't believe how quickly everyone rallied around him.

"Isn't that nice?" Fifi grinned, floating beside him. "Everyone's cheering you on. You're a lucky guy, Cain."

A warm feeling bubbled up inside him. Cain couldn't let them down now — not after putting their faith in him. He had to admit, he felt a little better now. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks, everyone."

The entire salon seemed to light up at C.C.'s rare smile, and even the staff felt their hearts race.

What a dangerous man, they all thought.

Suddenly, the door to Big Daddy's office swung open, and the owner himself burst out. "Ah! C.C., perfect timing! I've got a party to attend later, so I need you to style my hair!"

"Huh? Me?" Cain pointed at himself, confused. "But Victor's usually the one who styles your hair."

Victor waved him off with a grin. "It's fine, C.C. Go ahead."

Scratching his head, Cain stepped forward, beginning to style Alexander's hair. As he worked, he noticed flashes of light coming from outside the window. He frowned and glanced up.

"What the . . . ?" Cain muttered.

"Surprised?" Alexander grinned as Cain's fans snapped pictures of him from outside. "Ever since you entered that contest, our salon's been buzzing with attention."

Cain winced, feeling a pang of guilt. "Sorry for causing trouble." He had to at least say that much. He still have manners after all.

Big Daddy let out a hearty laugh, his voice booming through the salon. "Trouble? This place has been alive since you showed up. You've boosted our popularity tenfold."

"I'll tell them not to bother the salon," Cain offered, already feeling the weight of responsibility.

"Nah, let them be. You should cherish your fans more," Alexander chuckled, brushing it off.

Once Cain finished styling his hair, Alexander admired himself in the mirror, clearly impressed. With a satisfied nod, he handed Cain a thick wad of cash — $10,000.

"This is too much," Cain protested, though his hands didn't make any attempt to return the money.

Fifi, floating nearby, snickered. "What's wrong? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?"

"Keep it," Alexander said, his voice firm but kind. "You've exceeded my expectations, and I'm more than satisfied with how I look."

Cain gave a sly grin and pocketed the cash. "Then I won't argue. Thanks."

Alexander's posh, handsome face softened as he patted Cain on the shoulder. "Good luck on the third episode, kid. We're all rooting for you."

"Boss . . ."

"Call me Big Daddy," he winked.

Cain pressed his lips together, swallowing hard. He'd rather die than call him that.

Big Daddy laughed, his hearty chuckle filling the room as he headed back to his office. Cain couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine as the door closed behind him.

"He's quite the character," Fifi said, her voice dripping with amusement. "His charisma just pours out of him, without even trying. You should work hard to be like him, Cain."

Cain didn't respond right away, his eyes still lingering on the door. There was something about Alexander Locke, something that clicked in Cain's mind. It wasn't just the strange name or his over-the-top demeanor. It was his presence — a magnetic pull that drew people in effortlessly.

Most idols focused on looking young and cute . . . but maybe he should aim for something different. Something powerful.

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