Three hours had passed since Toshi and Roxxy had split off from Sera at the gym.
It was now past 7 PM. Everyone had gone their separate ways to enjoy some private time. Sera was no different…
She wasn't in her room right now. Instead, she was standing in front of the elevator, dressed in her usual black outfit.
"....."
Ding.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside and pressed the pad for the floor with all the domes.
She wanted to explore what was really on that level.
Ding.
The elevator arrived swiftly. Sera walked out along with a few other agents who had taken the lift with her.
She passed a carved stone pillar bearing the organization's emblem and continued down a path that resembled a royal garden.
Each dome seemed to serve as a different activity station.
"... Oh? Chess?"
Sera found herself in front of one dome that piqued her interest.
Her chess skills were fairly decent.
An agent, likely on a break, walked past her and headed to the dome's entrance.
Sera observed carefully and noticed the man didn't just walk in—he had to press his finger on a pad to verify his identity.
Beep beep beep...
The screen flashed green, and the door slid open to let him in.
That told Sera all she needed to know.
"...Damn."
To access any dome, she needed identity verification.
"Excuse me," Sera tapped a nearby staff member.
"To get inside that dome, do you need to scan your fingerprint?"
He gave her a slightly confused look, prompting her to quickly explain that she wasn't an official agent—just a volunteer.
He got the idea and nodded in understanding.
"Yes, that's right. If you're not registered, you can't enter. Another option is to be escorted by an agent responsible for you."
"Ah... I see."
Sera walked away with a sigh.
There were so many fascinating activities—gaming domes, media, entertainment, even literature.
She really wanted to explore. But there was no one to escort her. Roxxy? No... better let her rest for now. She could ask her tomorrow.
So she continued wandering, dome after dome, enjoying the garden scenery and admiring the elegant sculptures scattered throughout the area…
Until she passed one glass dome—with a sign clearly stating: "Barbershop."
"... There's a salon here?"
She pressed her face to the glass and peeked inside.
It was far too fancy to be called a barbershop. Dozens of agents sat in neatly lined chairs surrounded by tools that looked like something straight off a Miss Universe backstage.
It was mesmerizing.
And then... her eyes locked onto a familiar face waiting inside—Mickey Mannix, her natural-born nemesis.
"!!!"
She slammed her face against the glass, glaring so fiercely that the agent sitting in line jumped in surprise.
Mickey, inside, was casually looking around at other people. Eventually, it was his turn.
He stood up, about to approach the stylist he'd booked. But then, the gorgeous female stylist addressed him.
"Mickey. Do you know that girl over there?"
"…Who?"
He looked toward where she was pointing—and found Sera on the other side of the glass, tapping at it and staring wide-eyed like a cat chasing a laser pointer.
"…No idea. Who's that?"
He turned away, just about to sit down in the chair.
"Are you sure?"
"…?"
When he turned back, he saw Sera mouthing something at him while pounding the glass—alternating between pointing at her own ear.
Even without hearing her voice, Mickey could hear the echo in his mind:
<<< I know you can hear me! >>>
Weird... Why did his ear suddenly feel hot?
"....."
Sera now had puppy-dog eyes like she was pleading for something. Disgustingly fake.
"..."
"So what's the deal, Mickey? Do you know her or not?"
"…Let's go with not."
"If you say so…"
Mickey climbed into the chair, facing the mirror. But then—his phone buzzed.
"…One sec."
He pulled out his phone, only to see the incoming call: Seraphina Gilmour.
"..."
He spun his chair to face the glass and answered.
"…What?"
[ Don't ignore me, idiot. ]
"What do you want? I'm getting my hair done."
[ You're not even started yet. ]
"... Because someone is bothering me."
[ Hmm, wonder who that could be. ]
"…You called just to say this?"
Mickey was about to hang up.
[ Wait! ]
"...What's with the second voice? So fake."
[ Think whatever you want. How long's your cut gonna take? ]
"Why?"
[ Just answer. ]
"Probably till around 9."
[ Ugh, too long. ]
"You wanna cut it yourself?"
[ Hell yeah. ]
"…What?"
Mickey pulled the phone away from his ear, baffled.
"…Nope."
[ Just let me in, and I'll give you the haircut of your life. ]
"Not trying to get scalped, thanks."
[ C'mon! I know more than 95% of those tools in there. ]
"It's the other 5% that'll kill me. Hard pass."
[ I'm just guessing from outside! Can't see everything from here! ]
"Stop stealing jobs from the professionals. Go away. You're not helping anyone."
[ If you don't let me in, I'll shatter this glass. If it doesn't break, I'll start screaming. Everyone in here already knows you do know me. ]
"Oh wow, a threat."
[ Wanna test me? ]
"...."
Unbelievable. Just... unbelievable.
Whirr.
The door slid open. Mickey walked out to retrieve her.
"Come in."
He guided her to the back of the line and pointed.
"Sit here."
Then he turned to go back to the stylist—he'd wasted too much time already.
But... Sera toddled along behind him. Ignoring his directions completely.
"What now?"
"What did I say when I came in?"
"I don't wanna go bald, remember?"
"C'mon, trust me!"
"Wha—? Hey, what?!"
Sera yanked him down into the chair.
"Sera… this isn't a joke. Can you even cut hair?"
"I've done it for modeling agencies before."
"…Seriously?"
She raised her eyebrows confidently and turned to ask the stylist.
"What style was this jerk going for?"
"…Uhh…"
The stylist was too stunned to answer as Sera straight-up stole her scissors and cape.
"I didn't even say what I wanted! You butted in!"
"Forty minutes… no, thirty. Sit still and prepare to be amazed."
Snip snip snip.
The silver scissors clicked together.
Sera tossed the cape around Mickey's neck and got to work.
She reached for a bottle of product on the shelf and inspected it.
"Oho?"
She turned to the stylist.
"This brand's from my dad's line."
Stylist: "…Huh? Your dad?"
"Idris Gilmour."
Stylist: "…Idris— gasp THE Idris Gilmour?! Then you must be—"
"Sera Gilmour."
The stylist's eyes sparkled like she'd met a celebrity, but Mickey just squinted.
"…You're really that famous?"
"Pfft. Gilmour is on par with Gucci, darling. More diverse, too. Including this."
She admired the in-house product with pride and glanced around at the other beauty brands... only to find, unsurprisingly, that almost everything was from her family's company.
"Hehehe~ If the world found out even this organization uses Gilmour... Gucci and La Mer? Please. Their stocks would plummet."
Her devilish grin reminded Mickey of Sid Barrett plotting some shady scheme.
"…You trying to manipulate the stock market?"
"Tehehe~"
"Just get it over with already."
"Ugh, yeah yeah—I know."