Gangster to Idol

Cain's low score brought his total to 47, tying him with Leo.

Cain had failed the special mission miserably, missing his chance to earn enough points to clear his debt. The weight of defeat settled on his shoulders, and the sting of knowing he'd come up short burned.

The only silver lining? There was no punishment for failing the mission — this time.

Fortunately, the show had a built-in break after this round, giving all the trainees a full week to rest and recover. It was just enough time for Cain to heal, reflect, and hopefully regain his footing.

The second round was wrapping up, and as expected, Dylan, Lexter, and EJ dominated the leaderboards. Dylan claimed the top spot with 77 points, Lexter followed with 74, and EJ came in strong with 72. Even Damien, who was mediocre at first, ended with an impressive 70 points. Riku, too, managed to secure 65 points, despite his earlier nerves.

But Cain — he was the most disappointed in himself. His score had tied with Leo, 47 points, far below what he needed. The weight of failure pressed down on him harder than ever, and the fire to bounce back burned even fiercer.

"Let this be a lesson," Fifi said, flying down to land on his shoulder. She tapped his head lightly with her tiny hand. "Don't overexert yourself next time. You're not invincible."

Cain remained silent, his jaw clenched as he replayed the performance over and over in his mind, dissecting every mistake.

The host's voice cut through the room. "Trainees, that concludes this episode!" The excitement in his voice could be felt as he teased what was to come. "Now, before you all go on your one-week break, I'll reveal the rules for the next show! And trust me, you'll want to prepare for this!"

The trainees straightened up, murmuring amongst themselves.

"The next round will focus on . . . style, charisma, and stage presence!"

A wave of reactions rippled through the room.

"Oh no," someone whispered.

"Isn't that unfair?" another trainee muttered. "The good-looking people are gonna rack up points easily."

"You get to use makeup and wigs," a voice countered.

"Still, how are we supposed to compete with someone like Dylan?"

"Even the girls have more charisma than us."

"Idiot," Leo scoffed, flipping his hair with a smirk. "It's all about confidence. Anyone can own the stage with the right attitude."

As the buzz of excitement and nervousness filled the room, the host raised his hand for silence. "Let's talk about the budget for the next episode," he said with a grin. "You'll be given a budget based on your current score to craft your own look for the show — outfits, makeup, accessories, the whole package. Screen, please!"

The screen flickered to life, displaying the budget allocations:

|| BUDGET ||

80+ points – Unlimited!

75+ points – $5000

70+ points – $2500

65+ points – $1000

60+ points – $600

50+ points – $500

40+ points – $200

|| E N D ||

The room erupted again, this time with complaints.

"Wait, why is there such a huge drop after 65 points?"

"It's like they don't want us to win," one trainee groaned.

"They're basically handing the top players even more advantages!" another said, glaring at the screen. "How are we supposed to catch up if they're already miles ahead?"

"The top-ranked trainees belong to big companies. They don't even need a budget. They have their own stylists and makeup teams," one of the underdog trainees grumbled, folding his arms.

Cain silently accepted his budget — $200. Maybe it could buy a good foundation that could cover his tattoos.

It was far from enough to compete with those sitting comfortably at the top. He was already calculating how he could stretch every dollar, how he might piece together something that would allow him to catch up. But deep down, he knew it was going to be an uphill battle.

Looks like I need to go back to the Salon. Cain thought.

Just then, the host's voice broke his concentration. "Oh, and one more thing," he said with a smirk. "Next episode, we will have a special guest — a popular fashionista just to judge your personal look. So expect someone incredible."

A murmur of excitement spread through the room.

"A special guest?" someone echoed.

"They bring in special guests sometimes," another trainee explained. "It might not be hopeless after all."

"Maybe if there's another judge, the total possible score will increase too, right?"

The host smiled, letting the trainees speculate. "Alright, everyone. The production officially ends here. Enjoy your one-week break and use it wisely. Think carefully about the song, the style, and the image you want to portray in the next episode. Remember, this is your chance to shine.

And a word of advice — rest, recharge, and come back ready to dominate the stage." His final words hung in the air. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

The room buzzed with a mix of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation. As the trainees filed out, some laughing nervously, others in deep thought, Cain lingered behind, staring at the budget list. The pressure was mounting, but if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to clear his debts and prove himself, this next performance had to be flawless. No more mistakes.

The clock was ticking.
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=== 🎶 ===

Cain returned to their hideout in District 4, feeling exhausted and drained. The familiar scent of the HQ hit him as soon as he entered, but even that couldn't lift his spirits.

"Cain! You're back!" Joker, Bones, and the rest scrambled to their feet, rushing over to greet their leader who hadn't been seen in over two weeks.

"Boss, are you alright?" Bones asked, his worry evident as he took in Cain's worn-out appearance.

Joker frowned, crossing his arms. "You've lost weight, man. What kind of job wears you out this bad?"

Cain raised a hand, stopping them before they could pester him further. His voice was heavy with exhaustion. "Not right now, guys. I'm beat. I just need some rest."

Joker and Bones exchanged a glance, watching their leader sluggishly make his way to his room. There was an unspoken tension between them, an unease at seeing their boss so drained.

"The boss looks down," someone muttered.

"He looks worn out," another agreed, his tone low.

"What kind of job did he get himself into?"

"You think he's gonna be alright?"