Gangster to Idol

Cain was startled when the door to the rooftop slammed open, and someone stumbled inside, crying uncontrollably. His usual haven — an empty, quiet spot away from the cameras — was suddenly disrupted by the chaos.

Everyone else was in the empty studio practicing. Since fewer than half of the contestants remained, finding space wasn't a challenge anymore.

Cain had retreated to this secluded area in the roof deck, a blind spot away from the cameras, a place he thought of as his personal sanctuary.

But that sanctuary was now being invaded.

A woman ran into him, sobbing. She didn't notice him at all, blinded by her tears.

Cain flinched. She was going to collide with him, her bronze skin glistening under the dim light, her long, curly black hair a cascade of chaos. She had a delicate face, her phoenix eyes rimmed with red from crying, and crimson lips trembling with emotion.

A damsel in distress, her beauty almost too perfect, as if torn from the pages of a romance novel. Any other guy might jump at the chance to comfort her, to play the hero in her story.

But Cain wasn't just any guy.

His aversion to women kicked in full throttle, and instinctively, he sidestepped, causing her to bump into a nearby palm tree and stumble to the ground. He sighed inwardly, he had just averted a disaster.

"S-sorry," she muttered, still crying, barely realizing what had happened.

Cain shifted uncomfortably, keeping a safe distance between them. He scanned the rooftop. No one else was around, except for a few cameras at awkward angles that wouldn't catch the scene clearly.

"You okay?" he asked, careful not to touch her. Not only because his aversion might make him puke, but also because he didn't want to stir up unnecessary drama. The last thing he needed was another controversy.

There was already enough of that with Felice's winking at him.

Fifi spoke up in his mind, "I wonder what happened to her?"

"Who cares?" Cain mumbled under his breath. He only asked because the cameras were rolling, and leaving her without checking would make him seem like a cold, indifferent jerk — though, to be fair, he was all of the above.

He didn't know when it had happened, but ever since he joined the idol competition, he'd started to care a little more about how he came across to others. Meeting serious competitors like Riku had somehow changed his perspective.

The girl, still sniffling, finally wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "Oh, it's you . . . C.C.?"

"Yeah," Cain responded, his voice calm. "I've been practicing up here."

"Sorry," she said, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her skirt. "I didn't mean to disturb your practice."

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"It's fine," he replied quickly. "I was about to head back to my room anyway." Cain hesitated for a moment, knowing he had to ask. "What happened?"

He didn't really want to know. In fact, Cain hoped she'd brush it off and say it was nothing, allowing him to escape this awkward moment.

But contrary to his expectations, the girl sniffled again, her face filled with a hopeful kind of desperation.

"Sorry, but . . . will you listen to what happened? It would really help me get it off my chest."

Cain's eye twitched in frustration.

Fifi giggled softly in his head. "Fufufu~ Looks like you can't say no to her now. Serves you right!"

"S-sure," Cain forced a smile, though internally, he groaned. He glanced around, finding a nearby bench. The two sat down, leaving a meter of space between them.

Rhea — he now recognized her as a contestant from another group, Radiance — was still wiping her tears with a crumpled handkerchief, while Cain waited, unsure of what to say.

Minutes passed in silence. One minute, two minutes, five. Cain sighed quietly, mentally counting down. When it seemed like she wasn't going to speak, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uhm . .

."

Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling. "You see . . . out of the members of Radiance, I didn't even get past a hundred points in the last round."

Cain blinked. "Oh. Well, I didn't get past a hundred either. You're lucky you got 95 points. I barely made it to 87."

"But it's not like that for me," Rhea interrupted, her voice cracking. "I . . . I got discarded. Spectrum — they're my management group — told me they won't be renewing my contract.

I'm out. Done. They cut me off."

Cain's stomach churned at the sight of her heartache. He wasn't good at this. At comforting people. He glanced at Fifi for help, but she just grinned mischievously.

"Tell her it's fine," Fifi suggested. "There are tons of opportunities in the entertainment industry. If she wins, she'll get her debut."

Cain echoed her words carefully. "It's fine. There are other entertainment companies out there. If you win, you'll get your debut, and things will work out."

But instead of calming her down, Rhea burst into tears again, her sobs louder than before.

Cain's heart raced in panic. He shot another desperate glance at Fifi who just ignored him.

"It's not that simple!" Rhea wailed. "They've abandoned me. Even my groupmates, Miya and Lila, they won't talk to me anymore. They ignore me now. Without Spectrum's backing — without their makeup artists, stylists, and support — how could I even think of winning? I'm nothing without them."

Her cries intensified, and Cain clenched his fists, feeling more and more out of his depth.

Could I leave now? he thought.

"No way," Fifi warned. "If you leave now, this girl might spiral and hurt herself. Idols can be prone to depression under this kind of pressure. You don't want that on your conscience, trust me."

Cain cursed under his breath. "Damn it, I should've left when I had the chance."

Rhea continued to sob, her handkerchief now drenched in her tears. "I'm not beautiful enough. Without the company's help, how can I appear on camera? They pulled all their resources from me. I don't even know how to style my hair, how to dress myself properly. My skin's too dark, my hair's a mess .

. . how will I survive in this industry now?"