Gangster to Idol

As Cain stormed out of the room, still clutching his bruised pride and groin, Raneisha casually crossed her legs and smirked, watching him limp away.

She glanced at the cameras and flashed a bright, unapologetic smile.

"Don't you dare edit out that part where I kicked him," she said, her tone laced with amusement and warning.

The production crew exchanged nervous glances, biting their lips.

It was gold — prime drama.

However, there was a catch. Damaging Raneisha's reputation was out of the question. She used physical means with C.C. and that was always a controversial topic.

The Queen had a legion of loyal fans, hundred millions strong, and upsetting them could tank the show's ratings and their company's shares might drop in the stock market overnight.

No one was about to test the storm that came with it.

If she said no, then it was a no. Period.

Raneisha leaned back in her chair, her eyes falling on the file where C.C.s pictures was on.

"Charles Corn," she muttered with a soft chuckle. The name made her think of corn snacks for some reason. "No wonder he went with a stage name."

She wasn't one to talk since she was also using a stage name.

When C.C. first walked in, he carried an undeniable charisma that filled the room, demanding attention.

That kind of intensity was vital for an idol, but also dangerous — it could overshadow the rest of the group. Being an idol wasn't just about individual greatness; it was about fitting into a team.

But there was something about C.C. that intrigued her. His gaze was sharp, straight, and sincere— no hidden agendas, no pretense.

It had been a long time since she'd seen that in someone.

And when he sang that awkward ABC song, Raneisha had thought he was messing with her, trying to get her attention which worked in the end.

Only later did she realize he was dead serious.

He had said he couldn't find his voice, and that wasn't uncommon. Many people who weren't exposed to music or singing early struggled with that kind of problem.

Sure, regular practice, karaoke, and listening to more music could help over time. Months, maybe.

But there was a faster way.

She didn't like doing it, but with C.C., it seemed necessary. When people were angry, their true voice often shows itself — raw, intense, and unfiltered.

Anger stripped away the masks, and for a fleeting moment, it revealed their vocal limits and potential.

Raneisha's fingers gently brushed over C.C.'s profile on the file, a smile playing on her lips.

"I'm surprised . . . you've got such a deep, rough voice," she mused, her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

A voice like that was a rare gem, the kind that idol agencies would fight tooth and nail for.

It wasn't just unique — it had the potential to set him apart in a world where standing out meant everything.

=== 🎶 ===

"That bitch," Cain gasped, clutching his aching groin as the memory of the blow sent a fresh wave of pain through him. "If something happened to my junior, I swear, I'm wringing her neck."

Fifi's expression shifted, her eyes wide as she stared at him seriously. "Cain you . . . you touched her." Her words hung in the air for a moment. "And your aversion didn't trigger!"

"Huh?" Cain blinked in confusion.

"Nothing," Fifi quickly waved it off, smirking as she changed the subject. "The good thing is . . . you found your voice. She helped you find it, didn't she?

Do you remember it?"

The anger that had been fueling Cain faded as a new realization dawned on him. His lips curved into a grin, the pain and frustration melting away. "I think I do."

He glanced down at the papers in his hand, and a spark ignited in his chest. With his [Sharp Mind], Cain replayed his voice when she kicked him, her words echoing in his head as clearly as if she had just spoken them. He opened his mouth and began to sing.

This time, the sound that escaped his lips was different. His voice poured out effortlessly, his throat loosening as he sang the notes with ease. His breath felt steady, strong, and for the first time, it didn't hurt to reach for the high notes. He wasn't straining, wasn't forcing it to sound perfect. He was just . .

. letting go. And it felt liberating.

For the first time in his life, Cain enjoyed singing.

His voice flowed like a river — deep, rich, and raw, with an intensity that matched his newfound sense of freedom.

It wasn't just about hitting the right pitch anymore; it was about feeling every word, every note. The music wasn't something he had to control; it was a part of him, surging forward without restraint.

Fifi stood back, eyes wide, watching in awe as the rough, guarded Cain transformed into something she had never seen before: an Idol.

And in that moment, Cain realized — he had finally found his voice.

[SPECIAL MISSION! Find your own voice COMPLETED!]

[REWARDS!

1000 Idol Points!

CHA +10

DEX +10

CONS +10]

[SINGING Skill increased to LV.20!]

"Finally! Some good news!" Cain grinned, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders.

After what felt like an eternity, he had finally paid off his debt to Fifi and found his voice no less.

No more endless chores or grueling tasks just to stay afloat. Now, with some Idol Points to spare, he could hit the [Idol Shop] and actually buy something worthwhile.

Maybe a new outfit to boost his image? Or a skill enhancer to edge out the competition? The possibilities buzzed in his mind as he imagined his next step toward stardom.

"You should save it for emergencies," Fifi remarked, her voice unusually stern as she eyed the cigarette in Cain's hand. "You never know when you'll really need it. Could come in handy." Your next journey awaits at m v|l-e'm,p| y- r

Cain raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. He held the cigarette between his fingers, pausing just before lighting it. "You actually talk sense for once."

Fifi shot him a look, her arms crossed. "I always talk sense."

Cain smirked, clearly not convinced, and turned his attention back to the cigarette. The lighter flicked open in his hand, and he was just about to take a drag when the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs broke the calm of the rooftop.

BaAnNG!

The door slammed open, and someone barged in, breathless and crying.