Jason glanced down. The shadow bunny now lay flat on the floor like a lazy cat. Its ears occasionally twitched as Marty's comb tugged through another section.
『Reminder: This process is necessary to rebrand you from "Dumpster Gremlin" to "Brooding Heartthrob With Villainous Potential."』
Jason gave the screen the middle finger in his imagination.
Marty, unfazed, started finishing the final row.
His fingers worked like a damn loom — threading, braiding, pulling clean lines with hypnotic speed.
"There we go," he said at last, snapping the final braid into place with a black band. "Cornrows done. Edges about to be immaculate."
He grabbed a straight razor and leaned in, giving Jason the sharpest line-up of his life. The blade moved like it had GPS, guided with surgical care.
A swipe here. A tiny curve there. He even added a little etched design on the side, just for flair.
Jason peeked at himself in the mirror and —
"Holy hell."
His jaw actually dropped a little.
He looked like someone who just dropped a platinum diss track on their ex and bought a spaceship to flex.
The cornrows framed his face perfectly.
His cheekbones looked higher. His eyes looked more dangerous. His hairline looked like it was drawn with god-tier Photoshop.
Another screen popped up:
『Congratulations. You now look 62% more like a man who wins the girl and steals her boyfriend's car.』
Jason nodded slowly. "…Alright. That's a W."
Marty wiped his hands and stepped back. "Told you, man. Your scalp had potential."
Jason stood up and admired himself in the full-length mirror by the door.
Even the bunny tilted its head approvingly.
"Appreciate you, Marty."
"No doubt. You paying with chip or cred-scan?"
『I'll handle it』
Jason tapped the bracelet.
『Payment Confirmed. Tip: 15%. Status: Respectable.』
Marty checked his phone and saw the money had come in, he nodded, thinking this was one of those rich men who chose to dress poor.
He walked out of BladeSpinz with a subtle new strut.
His walk had gained 30% confidence and 40% swag just from existing.
People on the sidewalk glanced at him differently. Not "Ew, who's that?" but "Wait… is he famous?"
The bunny hopped after him like a bodyguard.
『Next Step: Wardrobe Purge. Your clothes are committing fashion war crimes.』
Jason rolled his eyes.
"One thing at a time, man. Let me enjoy the hair glow-up before you start roasting my socks."
The name of the next store shimmered above the entrance in golden cursive like some kind of divine declaration:
"Haute.exe."
Jason squinted at it.
"…Why does this sound like a fashion virus that only infects the rich?"
The inside practically punched him in the face.
SLAP! A mental hit from the gold-plated floors.
WHAM! Another from the floating crystal chandeliers shaped like roses.
BOOM! One final blow from the ambient orchestral music, which was somehow playing from invisible speakers hidden in the walls… or maybe in his soul.
"…Sweet mother of markup," he whispered.
Everything inside screamed "You cannot afford me."
Even the mannequins looked like they paid taxes in gold bars and worked part-time as K-pop idols.
『Welcome to Haute.exe: Luxury Level – Bankrupt Your Ancestors.』
Jason took one shaky step forward.
Then another.
Then —
He turned and almost left.
"I should not be here," he whispered. "This place looks like it scans your credit score when you breathe."
『Keep walking. Confidence is key.』
He blinked. "Confidence won't pay for a shirt that costs more than my rent."
He turned again to leave.
The bracelet glowed softly.
Suddenly — FWIP!
His legs were dragged against his will, one hand in front, the bracelet was dragging him along.
'I swear to god — yo — stop dragging me like a broke NPC cutscene — !'
His body moved to the receptionist's counter like it had just been possessed by the ghost of someone with real money.
The receptionist looked up from her holographic screen.
And her eyes went nuclear with judgment.
Jason could feel her gaze crawling over him like ants with designer opinions. Her nose crinkled.
Her lips twitched. Her jaw locked into "this is why we don't open stores near the lower district" mode.
He smiled through it.
"Hi. I, uh… need some clothes."
She stared at him, unimpressed, then tapped her earpiece.
A moment later, a butler — yes, a full-on butler — glided into view.
Tall, suited, immaculate. He had one of those faces that looked like it had never known disappointment or beans in a can.
The receptionist didn't even speak.
She just nodded at the butler and motioned at Jason like she was handling bio-hazardous material.
Jason sighed. "This is gonna be a long hour."
The butler didn't speak, just gave a small bow and gestured toward the upper level with a white-gloved hand.
Jason followed as the system screen floated in front of him again:
『Status: Shopping for Salvation. Drip Level: Critically Low.』
The upper level opened into several fashion zones — Techwear, Business Chic, Street Royalty, NeoGothic Assassin, and Gangster Casual.
Jason pointed at the last one.
"That one. That's my whole vibe right there."
The butler nodded approvingly and began to move — grabbing coats, gloves, sleek black pants with reinforced fibers, high collars, designer boots that probably came with a villain monologue built in.
Jason stood there as the man built an entire villain aesthetic on a nearby hanger rack like he was crafting a Final Boss.
He reached out and touched a jacket.
The material felt like the dreams of billionaires. Smooth, cold, and emotionally unavailable.
He looked at the price tag.
There was no price tag.
Jason blinked. "Wait. No prices?"
The butler looked at him. "Sir… if you have to ask, then — "
Jason held up a hand. "Yeah yeah, I know. I'm in the wrong anime."
The system dinged.
『Bracelet Credit Loaded. Limit: [INFINITE].』
Jason's eyes widened. 'Wait, I got an unlimited card now?! I thought we were using the reward money."
『You are the Anomaly's successor. Act like it.』
"…Right."
He grinned and stepped into the fitting room, clutching a black turtleneck, trench-coat combo with a long slit, dark cyber boots, and a few rings that looked cursed.
Behind the curtains, as he changed, another message flashed.
『WARNING: Your Swag Quotient is reaching dangerous levels.』
Jason looked in the mirror.
He looked…
Insane.