"Hmm hmm hmm~"
Two minutes before the attack.
Nonar United Kingdom's third largest Administrative Star, military Space Port, a certain observation platform.
The slightly bald Observer, occasionally glancing up at the fixed screen that embodied his job, already used to 'no anomalies in the airspace,' continued smiling while looking at the hair growth ad in his hand.
The 'plastic' cup beside him emitted a wisp of smoke, and the Observer elegantly pinched the handle of the cup, taking a light sip before sighing softly.
The gap between technological advancements and ordinary people is always a chasm called money.
Who would have thought, in his father's generation, it was still 'free hair transplants with skincare' at men's grooming salons, but with the latest hair transplant technology upgrades, it has become unattainable again.
The Observer clicked his tongue lightly, a bit of sentiment in his eyes.
