Gangster to Idol

Cain blinked, taken aback. He had been so focused on getting the steps right that he hadn't even thought about his expression. The idea of emoting through dance was foreign to him — he was used to focusing on the technical aspects, not the performance as a whole.

Besides, he couldn't see Kalista's facial expression, so he couldn't copy it.

Cain bit back the urge to say it out loud: You're wearing a mask, and you're not showing any facial expression at all!

But then again, she was a dance choreographer, not an idol. Maybe facial expressions weren't a requirement for her role . . . or were they?

Still, Cain couldn't shake the irony. She was criticizing him for something she didn't even have to worry about, hiding behind that mask while demanding everything from them.

Kalista didn't wait for a response. She moved on, her words lingering in the air as Cain stood there, processing what she had said.

After finishing with each trainee, Kalista spun on her heel with effortless grace, her eyes sweeping across the room like a storm about to break. With a casual flick of her wrist, she tossed out her next words without a hint of concern.

"Oh, by the way," she said, her voice as cool as ice, "I know this might not matter to some of you, but anyone who doesn't hit 40 points by next week? You're out. Eliminated."

The room fell dead silent, her words landing like a bombshell. There was no warmth, no sympathy — just cold, hard truth. The kind that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

As Kalista's words sank in, the room erupted into a mixture of emotions. Some of the trainees were visibly worried, exchanging uneasy glances, while others, who had been struggling, seemed to shrink under the weight of the announcement.
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But there were those who couldn't hide their smirks — the prospect of eliminations meant fewer competitors standing in their way, fewer obstacles between them and the coveted top ten spots needed to debut.

Riku, on the other hand, looked pale, his brow furrowed in deep concern. His dance performance had been shaky, and now, with eliminations looming, the pressure weighed heavily on him. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, until Cain's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Stop panicking, Riku," Cain snapped, his tone firm but not unkind. "You've got 30 points already. If you perform well next week, you're practically there. You can easily pick up another 20 from your singing alone."

Riku glanced up at Cain, still unsure. "But my dancing—"

Cain waved a hand dismissively. "Your dancing needs work, yeah, but you're not out yet. You're not just a dancer — you've got your voice. Focus on what you're good at and stop overthinking. You'll make it."

Riku bit his lip, clearly still anxious, but C.C.s confidence seemed to ease some of his tension.

Cain, who appeared unfazed by the announcement, leaned back, arms crossed, as if the looming eliminations were just another obstacle for him to easily overcome.

"Yeah, but the next challenges will be even tougher if they keep eliminating us for not hitting certain points," Riku muttered, worry still evident in his voice.

Cain paused, considering the situation. It was true — his vocals weren't his strongest suit, and if things kept progressing like this, it was only a matter of time before his points took a hit and he'd face elimination himself.

"Then there's no time to sit around doubting ourselves," Cain said firmly. "We need to practice."

"Practice?" Riku echoed, blinking at him.

Cain nodded. "Yeah. There are empty rooms in the building, right? We'll use them to practice."

Riku's face lit up. "That's a great idea! By that we can improve more. You can teach me how to dance too, C.C.!"

"And in return, you can show me some of that freestyling you keep talking about."

Riku grinned, his earlier worry momentarily forgotten. He nodded eagerly, the spark of joy reigniting in his eyes.

"What's this?" a voice interrupted, dripping with sarcasm. "Licking each other's wounds now?"

It was Damien, standing at the back of the room, arms crossed, eyes filled with barely concealed contempt.

"What do you want?" Cain snapped back.

Damien's sneer grew wider as he took a step closer to C.C. and Riku, his eyes glinting with a mix of arrogance and irritation.

"So, you two are going to team up and practice your way to the top?" Damien's voice dripped with condescension. "How cute. But let's face it — no matter how much you practice, you'll never be a match for those of us who've been in the game longer. This isn't just about dancing and singing; it's about experience, talent, and the edge that only comes from being the best."

He crossed his arms, letting his words hang in the air like a challenge. "You can practice all you want, but at the end of the day, you'll always be chasing after us, never quite catching up."

Cain's eyes narrowed, a storm of anger brewing behind his gaze. He stepped forward, his posture radiating raw intensity.

"You can't beat him. Fighting is prohibited here," Fifi reminded Cain.

"You think experience makes you unbeatable?" Cain's voice was low, almost a growl. "That's the kind of thinking that'll get you stuck in the same spot forever. I may not have your so-called 'experience,' but I've got determination, and I'm not afraid to put in the work.

So keep your head up high and your attitude even higher — because I'm coming for you, and I'll prove that talent can beat experience."

Damien's smirk faltered, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Before he could respond, C.C.s hand shot out, delivering a sharp, controlled slap to Damien's cheek.

The sound echoed in the room, and for a moment, all eyes were on them.

"That's for underestimating us," Cain said, his voice cold and steady. "Keep thinking we're just background noise. We'll see who's still here when the final notes are sung and the last dance step is taken."

Damien's face turned red, both from the sting and the embarrassment. He opened his mouth to retort, but the weight of C.C.s words and the slap left him momentarily speechless.

Cain turned back to Riku. "Let's go, Riku."

As he walked away, Damien's gaze followed him with clenched teeth.

The challenge had been issued, and the battle lines were drawn.