Gangster to Idol

"At least they're calling the trainees up one by one," Fifi commented, perched on Cain's shoulder. "Gives them a chance for individual feedback — actually useful critiques."

Cain nodded, though doubt lingered in his mind. One training session wasn't going to transform anyone's voice overnight, no matter how good the advice.

Improvement took time, patience, and practice — something most of them didn't have in abundance.

"Still," Cain muttered, "it's better than being thrown into the deep end without any guidance."

Fifi shrugged. "True, but don't expect miracles. It'll take more than one critique to find your voice."

Cain knew that.

When Riku stepped up to perform, there was a subtle shift in the room. He had been nervous, but the moment he opened his mouth to sing, his voice was steady and smooth, surprising even some of his fellow trainees.

He had a natural ease in his tone, and it flowed effortlessly with the melody of Electric Heartbeat. When he finished, Evelyn nodded with a smile.

"You've got good vocal control, Riku," she said, her voice approving. "Your pitch is solid, and you're able to keep up with the rhythm without straining. That's not something everyone can do."

"I remember you can rap pretty well too," Evelyn remarked, a glint of approval in her eyes.

Riku shifted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Y-yeah, I do."

Evelyn smiled. "Your voice has versatility. You've got the potential to shine in any genre, honestly."

Riku's cheeks flushed, and for a moment, his usual shyness melted away under the weight of the unexpected praise.

But Evelyn wasn't done. "However," she added, "your stage presence is lacking. When you perform, it's not just about hitting the right notes — it's about owning the stage. Right now, you're too focused on singing perfectly, but we need to see you come alive. Pop is as much about the energy and connection you bring as it is about the voice. Work on that, and you'll have something really special."

It was the most praise she had given any trainee so far, and Riku seemed to soak it in, nodding enthusiastically as he returned to his spot.

Off to the side, Damien clicked his tongue, clenching his fist. The subtle tension was apparent as some of the other trainees threw sideways glances at Riku.

His natural talent wasn't sitting well with everyone — after all, this was a competition, and in the eyes of the others, Riku was no longer just another trainee. He was a rival, a direct threat to their spotlight.

The quiet animosity simmered beneath the surface, as each one of them knew that in this race, only the strongest voices would rise to the top.

Cain, or C.C., was next. He stepped forward with a confident stride, but there was a hint of unease beneath the surface.

As he sang, it was clear that he had been practicing — his voice followed the melody, and he hit the notes well. But something was off. His performance lacked the soul and individuality that made a song truly his own. It felt like a polished copy of Evelyn's rendition, without any personal flair.

When he finished, Evelyn didn't sugarcoat her critique.

"You have a good voice, Cain," she started, "but right now, it sounds like you're just copying what I did. There's no distinction, no unique sound that makes it yours. If you want to stand out, you need to find that voice inside you, something that's authentically yours."

Cain's face remained ice. He had expected that much. He hesitated before asking, "How do I improve that? How do I find my voice?"

Evelyn chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling. "Just sing more and more," she said. "The more you sing, the more you'll start to hear the voice that's really yours. It takes time, but you'll get there. Don't overthink it — just let it happen naturally."

Cain's frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he kept his expression unreadable. Evelyn's answer hadn't given him the clarity he was hoping for.

As he rejoined the group, his mind churned over her vague advice. Riku shot him a sympathetic glance, but Cain barely noticed — he was too busy analyzing every note, every phrase he'd sung. He couldn't afford to be just another voice in the crowd.

Everyone was learning that becoming a star wasn't just about talent — it was about growth, discovery, and a whole lot of work.

The entire day had been consumed by practicing Electric Heartbeat, but Cain's mind was still racing late into the evening. If he didn't figure out how to find his own voice before next week, he was sure his score would suffer.

"Something on your mind, C.C.?" Riku asked from the top bunk, peering down at him.

It was only eight in the evening, and no one was asleep yet. Damien was off somewhere, probably scheming with his old crew, while Leo was busy livestreaming to his millions of fans, giving them a grand tour of the place. Phones weren't restricted outside of practice halls and show tapings, as long as they weren't leaking any drama, practice, and shows that hadn't aired yet.

It was an ironclad part of their contracts, and anyone caught breaking it would be immediately kicked out. No one dared to risk it. Read now on m_vl_em_p_yr

But touring around the place and interviewing the trainees to post on their social media was acceptable. It was free marketing after all.

"What did she mean when she said I had to sing more?" Cain asked, his frustration evident. "How do you even find your voice?"

Riku scratched his nose, grinning sheepishly. "Ah, well . . . I've been singing since I was a kid with my old man. So I really don't understand too."

"Your father?"

Riku shook his head. "No, not my dad. My grandfather. Well, not by blood, but the man who adopted me. I'm an orphan, you see. He's all I've got left."

Cain glanced over at Riku, curiosity piqued. "Is that why you want to be an idol?"

Riku beamed. "Yeah. Gramps wanted to be an idol when he was young, but life had other plans. He raised me on music — singing, playing instruments . . .

except dancing. Gramps never knew how to dance either." He laughed, but there was an unmistakable edge of loneliness beneath it.