CHAPTER 369: CHAPTER 369 TEMPLE OF BEAUTY AND HAIR RESTORATION

The club house was breathtaking, surrounded by a sea of flowers that painted the air with color and fragrance. Beds of tulips and lavender framed the stone pathway, while cherry trees stood in bloom, their petals drifting gently in the soft breeze like pink snow. Jay, despite his dread for what awaited him, couldn’t help but admire how serene the place looked—it felt like stepping into a peaceful dream.

His grandmother, full of purpose and enthusiasm, led him up the marble steps. The heavy wooden doors opened with a quiet creak, and the scent of sandalwood and incense immediately filled his senses. Inside, the decor was a perfect blend of tradition and artistry—mandala designs sprawled gracefully across the walls, maroon borders framing soft white paint.

Jay wrinkled his nose. "Smells... spiritual," he muttered under his breath, earning a light smack on the arm from Nonna.

"Show some respect," she scolded. "This is the sacred temple of beauty and hair restoration!"

"Hair restoration?" Jay repeated, suddenly less impressed.

Nonna ignored his comment and guided him through a corridor lined with potted bamboo and framed paintings of lotus flowers. At the end of the hall stood a dark brown door, polished to perfection. She pushed it open grandly, revealing a bright, airy room filled with neatly arranged chairs, trays of oils, and a long wooden counter.

Several women in elegant uniforms turned toward them, smiling warmly. The smell of strong herbs instantly filled Jay’s lungs, thick and unmistakable—mint, amla, and something he couldn’t even name but knew would haunt his pillow for days.

"Welcome, Mrs. Moretti!" one of the women said brightly, recognizing Nonna at once. "We’ve been waiting for you. Oh, and this must be your volunteer!"

Jay felt his stomach drop as two assistants stepped forward, each holding a tall bottle of what looked like liquid gold but smelled like concentrated forest.

"Volunteer?" he echoed weakly, forcing a smile as Nonna clapped her hands together proudly.

"Yes," she said, looking at him with glowing satisfaction. "This is my handsome grandson. Perfect test subject—young, healthy, lots of hair to work with!"

"Please sit, sir," one of the women said politely, gesturing toward a cushioned chair in the middle of the room.

Jay took a cautious step back. "I-I think you might have mistaken me for someone else. Maybe you need a—uh—bald volunteer to see results more clearly?" he said, trying to back toward the door.

Nonna shot him a glare that froze him in place. "Don’t embarrass me, boy," she hissed softly before smiling sweetly at the women. "He’s just shy. He loves herbal treatment."

Jay stared helplessly as the assistants approached, the bottles gleaming ominously under the light. The scent grew stronger, almost dizzying.

"Oh no," he whispered under his breath. "This is how I die. Smelling like curry leaves."

Nonna beamed. "He’s so excited, he can’t even speak!"

Jay sighed in defeat and sank into the chair, mumbling, "Bro and Bella Bell, if you love me even a little, come save me right now."

The first assistant approached with a graceful smile, rubbing her palms together to warm them before the treatment. The second assistant poured a generous drop of thick golden oil into her hand, and instantly the air grew dense with the smell of crushed herbs and earth—strong, ancient, and medicinal.

Jay froze the moment he caught the scent. His eyes widened, and he looked helplessly at Nonna, who was watching with the satisfied calm of a general overseeing victory.

"Nonna, it’s— it’s so strong," he gasped, his voice muffled as the first assistant began parting his hair with delicate fingers. The warm touch spread slowly, the oil seeping into his scalp with a gentle, rhythmic massage.

"Relax, young sir," one of them said soothingly. "This oil will make your hair shine like silk. It’s a special blend—rosemary, fenugreek, castor, a little amla, and some secret herbs."

"Secret?" Jay groaned under his breath. "Why does it sound like I’m getting cursed instead of pampered?"

The assistants giggled softly as they worked, the sound blending with the faint sound of instrumental music in the background. The warm oil spread evenly, gliding down from his roots to his temples, the cool sensation chasing away the initial sting of the scent. Despite his complaints, his shoulders began to loosen.

His scalp tingled pleasantly as they massaged in slow circles, fingers pressing lightly but firmly. Jay’s eyelids fluttered, torn between enjoying it and crying at the thought of how his hair was going to smell for days.

"See?" Nonna said proudly, arms crossed as she observed like a queen. "Even your face looks relaxed now. The body knows when it’s receiving love."

Jay groaned softly. "It’s not love, Nonna—it’s herbal warfare..."

The assistants stifled their laughter as they continued the massage, and though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, Jay had to admit... it did feel strangely good. The coolness soothed his scalp, and the rhythmic motion almost lulled him to sleep until the overpowering scent hit him again and he nearly sneezed.

Nonna smiled triumphantly. "Good. Let it soak, my dear. That’s the smell of tradition, strength, and beauty."

Jay muttered weakly, "It’s the smell of my social life dying."

Two hours later, Jay hair was slicked back with enough oil to start a small lamp, and the herbal scent around him was so strong it could probably knock out mosquitoes for miles. He sat slouched in the chair, his soul visibly leaving his body, while Nonna stood proudly beside him like she had just accomplished a divine mission.

"Well? Admit it, you love it, baby chick!" Nonna said with her hands on her hips, her voice full of triumph. "I thought about how stressed you might be lately, so I brought you here. But no—you’re complaining about smell?!" She scoffed, pointing at him. "Don’t you see how relaxed your body looks now?"

Jay blinked slowly, deadpan. "That’s not relaxation, Nonna. That’s paralysis."

Nonna ignored him entirely and lifted one of the small glass bottles, admiring the golden liquid as if it were treasure. "Do you know how many older women came to buy our club oil this month? Everyone loves it! We’re practically sold out!"