Fin stepped out of the Guild with Juna, the afternoon sun hitting his face. He stopped dead when he saw it—a sleek, shiny pink car parked right outside. It looked like sothing out of a dream, all curves and polish, way too fancy for a slum kid like him.
"Is that... yours?" he asked, eyes wide.
Juna smirked, twirling a key around her finger. "Yep. Pretty, right? Co on, hop in."
He hesitated. "I don't wanna ss it up. This thing's worth more than my life."
She laughed, opening the passenger door. "You won't. Just don't bleed on the seats, okay?"
He climbed in, sinking into the soft leather. It slled clean, like flowers and money. His hands hovered, afraid to touch anything. Juna slid into the driver's seat, hit the ignition, and the car purred to life. They peeled away from the Guild, the ride smooth as glass.
He stared out the window, watching buildings blur by—shops, people, streets he'd never bothered with before. "Never been in a car this nice," he said, half to himself.
"Stick with , sweetie," she said, eyes on the road. "You'll see plenty of nice things."
The bank wasn't far. She parked in front of a tall building with big glass doors. Inside, it was quiet—only a couple people waiting. She led him to a desk where a guy in a suit barely looked up.
"New account," she said, nudging Fin forward.
"Uh, yeah," Fin said, fumbling with his Hunter license. "Got so credits to stash."
The guy typed fast, asked a few questions—na, ID, amount. Fin muttered "A hundred forty thousand," and the guy's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything. Ten minutes later, Fin had a card and a number scribbled on a paper.
Done.
They walked back to the car, his head still spinning. Juna leaned against the hood, arms crossed. "Need anything else?"
He scratched his neck, thinking. "Uh, yeah. Houses. Can I get one with what I've got? Nothing crazy, just... sothing."
She nodded, tapping her chin. "Yep. Not a mansion or anything, but you can snag a decent little place. Cozy, solid. Want to show you so?"
"Yeah," he said, a grin creeping up. "That'd be good."
She smiled back, sharp and warm. "Alright, Hunter. Let's find you a ho."
The car humd along as Juna drove, weaving through the streets. She glanced at Fin. "So, why'd you even want to be a Hunter? Doesn't seem like the slum-rat dream job."
He leaned back, staring out the window. "Made a promise," he said, voice low. "Soone back ho—g. Told her I'd make it, get us out of that dump. Not breaking that."
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. "Sweet. Loyalty's rare around here."
"Yeah, well, she's worth it," he said, shrugging. "Only family I've got left."
They fell into easy small talk after that—her asking about the slums, him asking about her car. She laughed when he called it "too pretty to touch," and he grinned, relaxing a bit.
Soon, they pulled up to a house—a two-story thing with clean white walls and a small yard. A sign out front read "100,000 credits." Fin's jaw dropped. It was huge, way bigger than the shacks he'd grown up in. Could fit seven people, easy.
He turned to Juna, confused. "This is small? You said nothing fancy, but this... it's massive."
She smirked, stepping out of the car. "Small for so. For you, it's a castle, huh?"
A salesman jogged up—short guy, slick suit, big smile. "Juna! Right on ti. This the buyer?" He stuck out a hand. "Na's Tor. Let's get you inside."
Fin shook his hand, still dazed, and followed. The tour blew his mind. Big couch, soft as a cloud. A TV—actual working one. Three bedrooms with real beds. Two bathrooms, shiny and clean, with showers and toilets that didn't stink. The kitchen was huge—stove, fridge, counters he could cook on without dodging rats.
"This is insane," he muttered, running a hand along the smooth wall. "People live like this?"
Tor grinned. "All yours if you want it."
Juna leaned against the doorway, watching him. "Wanna see more houses?"
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "This one's perfect." He turned to Tor. "Reserve it for . I'll pay by the end of the day."
Tor nodded, scribbling on a clipboard. "Done. Swing by later, and we'll seal it."
They stepped outside, and Juna gave him a long look—his ssy hair sticking up, scars rough on his skin, clothes still beat-up despite the bath. She smiled, soft but sly. "Co on. Ti for shopping and so fun. You need a glow-up."
He blinked, following her to the car. "Shopping? For what?"
"Clothes, soap, stuff to make you look less like a walking fight," she said, starting the engine. "Can't have my new favorite Hunter looking like that."
He climbed in, frowning a little. "Why're you being so nice to ?"
She just winked and hit the gas, leaving his question hanging as they sped off.
The car rolled to a stop outside a hair salon, its big windows glowing with warm light. Juna hopped out, tossing her keys in her hand. "First stop," she said, nodding at the door. "Your hair's a disaster. Let's fix it."
Fin ran a hand through his tangled ss, frowning. "It's fine, isn't it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Sure, if 'fine' ans 'looks like a bird nested in it.' Co on."
Inside, the air slled like shampoo and sothing sweet. A stylist—a tall guy with a buzzcut and a grin—waved them over. "Juna! Who's this?"
"My project," she said, pushing Fin into a chair. "Make him look human."
The guy laughed, spinning Fin to face the mirror. "Rough edges, huh? I've got you."
Scissors snipped, and Fin watched clumps of his wild hair hit the floor. Juna sat nearby, getting her blue streaks touched up, chatting with her own stylist. "So, Fin," she called over, "ever had a real haircut before?"
"Nah," he said, eyeing the mirror. "Just hacked it with a knife when it got too long."
She smirked. "Figures. You're gonna love this."
They talked while the stylists worked—her asking about dumb slum stuff like rat traps, him asking how she kept her hair so beautiful. The buzzcut guy finished, spinning Fin around. His hair was short now, neat but still a little ssy, framing his sharp jaw. He barely recognized himself.
"Not bad," he said, tilting his head.
She grinned. "Told you. After I am done, we will go to the next stop."
---
They pulled up to a spa next, a quiet place with soft music and candles everywhere. Fin followed her in, feeling out of place in his patched-up vest. "Massages first," she said, pointing to two tables. "You're all knots."
A lady in white led him to a table, and he lay down, tense. Then her hands dug into his shoulders, and he groaned. "Ow—wait, no, that's... good."
Juna laughed from her table. "Told you. Relax, slum boy."
The massage lted the ache from his dungeon fight, leaving him loose and dazed. After, they moved to face and skin care—so lady slathered cream on his scars, muttering about "hydration." His face felt weird, smooth. Then nail care—another person trimd and cleaned his ragged nails, and he stared at his hands like they belonged to soone else.
"You're spoiling ," he said to Juna, half-joking.
She winked. "You're worth it. Trust ."
---
Last stop was a clothing store, all glass and sleek racks. She marched in like she owned it, pulling suits off hangers. "Try these," she said, shoving a pile at him.
He stepped out of the dressing room in a dark blue suit, tailored sharp. The mirror showed a stranger—tall, clean, soone who didn't look like he'd crawled out of an alley. Juna added glasses, a silver watch, sleek shoes. Each piece stacked up, and by the end, he felt like a new man.
"Damn," he muttered, turning. "This is ?"
"Yep," she said, hands on her hips. "No more slum rat. You're a man now."
She paid—way too much, he thought—and they walked out, bags swinging. He caught his reflection in a window, still stunned. But as they headed back to the car, he glanced at her, frowning. "Why're you doing all this? Really?"
Her smile softened, but she didn't answer, just opened the car door. "Get in, sweetie. Day's not over yet."
He slid in, the question nagging at him. 'Why does she care so much?' No one did stuff like this for free—not in his world.
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