“I say, Master Tony, are you really not interested in the finale of this auction?”
Nicholas asked as he looked at the gentle-faced stylist named Tony.
“It would be a lie to say I’m not interested, but compared to that, the hair in front of me is more worthy of my attention. That is my professional ethics as a hairstylist.”
Tony didn’t even look at Nicholas. As he spoke, he pulled a bottle of hairspray from his waist, spun it a few times in the air, gave it a few quick sprays, and then swiftly tucked it back into his belt to set the other person's hair.
“Pansy, has your hair gotten harder?”
Feeling that the hairspray couldn’t quite hold the style, Tony frowned after running his hands through Pansy’s hair twice.
The woman he addressed, Pansy, was startled.
No, she literally jumped up from her chair. She even ripped off the white cloth draped over her and pulled out a mirror to check herself frantically.
“Are you serious?! You’re not lying to me, are you?”
It was no joke—hair was a woman’s second face.
For a professional like Master Tony to lead with 'it’s getting hard,' how could she not panic?
“You can question my character, but you cannot question my professional ethics.”
The gentleness on Master Tony’s face vanished, replaced by an expression of absolute gravity.
“Ugh... it really does feel a bit harder.”
After trying to run her fingers through her long hair herself, Pansy complained with a sour face.
“Why is this happening?”
“It’s likely due to evolution. After all, the physical changes each race undergoes after evolving are different.”
Master Tony provided his answer from a professional perspective.
This explanation was immediately accepted by Pansy.
There was no helping it; no one knew better than she did what a mess her body and race had become.
“I’ve only been evolved for two or three months and my hair is already like this. In the future, I probably won't even be able to enjoy the simple happiness of getting my hair done.”
Pansy sighed with regret.
However, her words triggered a hairstylist's instinct.
“Impossible! There is no hair that I, Tony Doni, cannot handle!”
Feeling challenged, Master Tony pressed Pansy back into her chair with one hand and began his work.
His hands were a blur, making Pansy’s long hair fly up and down.
In about a second, he had given Pansy’s long hair a completely new look.
He then took out the mirror and thoughtfully held it in front of her.
“A ponytail—the simplest yet most direct and effective hairstyle. Most importantly, it perfectly suits your capable temperament as a Banshee. Well, is the guest satisfied with this hairstyle?”
“Whoa! I have to say, this actually works.”
Pansy shook her head slightly and looked at her clean, high ponytail, exclaiming dramatically.
“I’ve never tried a high ponytail before. I didn’t expect it to suit me so well.”
“I am very glad you are satisfied with the new style. Knowing which hairstyle suits which guest at a single glance is a basic skill for a stylist.”
Tony wore a humble smile.
It wasn't a business-like smile, but one of genuine, heartfelt satisfaction.
“How about I have my clanspeople visit your salon later?”
“Of course. All Banshees get a ten percent discount.”
“Hahaha, then I’ll be counting on you, Master Tony.”
“There’s no need for such politeness. Now, let me help you with some nail polish. Personally, I recommend black—what do you think?”
“Sure.”
...
“Sigh... it seems no one is interested in this so-called finale...”
Watching the two amuse themselves, the muscular Nicholas couldn't help but sigh, spreading his hands in a complaint.
“Then again, how could members of big organizations like yours understand the heartache of a small organization leader like me? I probably won’t be able to afford the finale anyway.”
It was the truth.
Tony Doni, a member of The Masquerade, ran a large hair salon. He had been sent to the auction to buy a few things, but his main target was ancient blood.
That stuff was a hot commodity; everyone wanted it.
After all, it was a key item for crafting evolution items.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was that Master Tony hadn't even blinked when bidding. No matter who called a price, he would bid one gold coin higher, putting his massive wealth on full display.
Although some people had tried to drive up the price on him midway, he ultimately walked away with about a third of all the ancient blood in this auction.
He was a dominant force.
As for the other person, who looked like a bit of a madwoman, her name was Pansy King, a member of the Dangerous Party.
No... that description was a bit off.
At the thought, Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose in pain.
He shouldn't say Pansy King looked like a madwoman.
He should say that anyone who could join the Dangerous Party was a high-concentration 'dangerous element.'
Consequently, she had spent most of the auction buying weapons—all sorts of weapons—along with hidden blades, poisons, and antidotes. No one knew what those guys were planning to do next.
Logically, no one should want to stay in a room with such dangerous people.
So why were there four people from different organizations in this one room?
In reality, because there were so many private booths, unless Diana deliberately arranged otherwise, these various organization cadres who were on speaking terms would simply form their own groups and gather together.
Of course, 'on speaking terms' didn't necessarily mean they were close.
For example, Master Tony and Pansy King.
While it might have been a bit awkward at first, it was still better than sitting with members of a rival organization for hours.
In that scenario, a fight would likely break out—the kind that only ended in death.
One had to realize that since the transmigrations began, the world had shifted from 'individuals' to 'organizations' and then to 'towns.' Individuals no longer had their initial independence.
Aside from a small number of top-tier players, everyone else had to band together just to survive.
This inevitably led to resource competition between teams and organizations.
Kalim was huge.
This was evident from the fact that it could pull over ten billion people into it at once.
But no matter how large a region was, it was never as large as ambition and desire.
Thus, these struggles were often fatal; a few deaths here and there weren't even news. The norm was for groups to constantly think about how to wipe out or annex their rivals.
If someone could take out a cadre from an enemy organization during an auction like this, it would be a devastating blow to that group.
Therefore, everyone felt much safer sitting with acquaintances who had no conflict of interest.
Rate on N.U.
