Gangster to Idol

Cain's gaze stayed cold and steady as Lexter disappeared into a corridor.

As Lexter slunk away, humiliated, Rhea breathed out shakily, still standing behind C.C. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe.

Rhea's gaze lingered on him, the bruised knuckles, the sharp intensity still simmering in his eyes. He was dangerous, unpredictable, a force of raw power that most people would shrink away from.

And yet, in this moment, all she could feel was a strange, inexplicable comfort.

It wasn't just that he had protected her, punching Lexter without hesitation—it was the way he carried himself, like nothing could shake him, like he would face down the world if it came for her.

She knew it was only her thinking. She was getting delusional.

Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. Why did she feel this way around him? This wasn't fear or admiration. It was something deeper, something she couldn't name, but it pulsed through her like electricity.

Cain simply wiped the blood from his knuckles, his face stoic and unreadable. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Rhea's voice trembled as she finally managed to speak, her mind catching up with everything that had just happened. "There's blood on your hand. You're hurt."

Cain glanced down at his hand briefly before shrugging. "It's not my blood. Don't worry about it." Without waiting for a response, he stepped inside the elevator, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss.

Rhea hesitated for a moment, her heart still racing, then followed him in. The silence in the small space was suffocating, almost as if the weight of everything that had just happened pressed down on Rhea. She could hear her own shallow breathing, trying to steady herself after the intensity of the confrontation.

The elevator hummed quietly as it began its descent, the tension between them thick. Rhea stared at her reflection in the metallic walls, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the [Charm Bracelet] around her wrist. She couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Uhm . . . thank you for saving me," she said softly, her voice breaking the stillness. She glanced up at him, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I know we don't really know each other that well, but I've lost count of how many times you've come to my rescue."

Cain didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the elevator doors as they descended. "Don't think too much about it. Anyone would've done the same," he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual coldness. He seemed distracted, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.

Rhea bit her lip, unsure of how to continue. The air between them felt fragile, like a thread ready to snap at any moment.

She wanted to say more, ask something meaningful—something personal. This was her chance, wasn't it? Maybe she could ask if he had a girlfriend . . . but the words wouldn't come out.

Instead, she found herself blurting out, "Do you mind if I keep the bracelet for a while longer?"

Cain glanced at her, his brow slightly raised in surprise, but he nodded. "Sure. I don't need it right now, so you can borrow it as long as you like."

Rhea smiled, though the awkwardness lingered in the air. "Thanks . . . I'll take good care of it."

Fifi, fluttering beside Cain's shoulder, teased mischievously. "Oh? Someone's being generous today."

Cain rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. "Shut up. I'll get that bracelet back eventually. It's not like I'm giving it to her."

Rhea felt her stomach flip as the silence settled over them once more. She wanted to ask something—anything—but her mind was a jumbled mess.

What was she supposed to say? Every time she tried to find the right words, they just slipped away.

Gathering her courage, she tried again. "So . . . what do you think we should sing for our performance next week?" she asked, her voice tentative. "We still have to figure out costumes and roles too.

There's a lot to plan."

Cain sighed, his tone firm yet distant. "It's fine not to think about that now. We need rest. Overthinking it right now will only stress us out more."

Rhea nodded, though her nerves made her fidget. "Y-yeah . . . you're right. If we start worrying about that while we're still exhausted from the competition, it'll only make us more anxious.

We should rest first . . . let ourselves calm down."

She glanced at C.C., but he remained silent, his eyes distant as if weighing something far beyond the performance ahead.

His demeanor had shifted—it was calm but intense, like he was carrying more weight than she realized. She couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were circling in his mind.

Was he thinking about Lexter? About what just happened? Or was there something deeper going on?

Despite the danger and tension of the situation, there was something reassuring about C.C.s quiet strength. Yet, there was also a barrier, an invisible wall that kept him guarded, no matter how close he seemed to be physically.

Rhea's heart ached, wishing she could see past that wall, even for a moment. She wasn't sure why it mattered to her so much. Maybe it was because he made her feel safe in a way no one had before.

"By the way," Cain began, his voice low but steady, "why does that guy keep harassing you?"

Rhea's expression faltered, her face tightening as the memory resurfaced. "You mean Lexter?" She sighed heavily, a mix of frustration and sadness in her tone. "We used to see each other a lot. Our buildings are near each other, and sometimes we practiced with the same choreographer, especially during training camp. He wanted me to be one of his girlfriends, promising he'd take care of me if I did."

"What do you think then? Do you like him?"

Rhea shook her head. "I don't like him and I don't want to be his girl. Everyone knew how Lexter is notorious around women. I don't want to be with a guy like that. Call me old school but I want to be with a man who only looks at me," she said looking at C.C. meaningfully.

Cain didn't notice Rhea's gaze. "I see . . . If he keeps bothering you, you should report him to the production team. Harassment is a serious offense."