Gangster to Idol

[Unedited. Don't Buy!]

Cain let the playback end naturally, then nodded, casually. "Alright, we've got some strengths here, and maybe some things to work on," he said diplomatically.

"Han, your energy's on point. But what if we find a way to work with your natural tone—something that lets you use that drive without forcing your voice?"

Han didn't respond immediately, but his guarded expression softened a little, signifying that Cain might be able to push him out of his rapping fiasco and get him to sing in his normal voice.

The two girls, Rhea and Lina, who had been competing fiercely for the chorus line, fell silent as they listened to the playback.

Each seemed deep in thought, weighing their strengths and weaknesses in a new light.

Looked like Cain had hit three birds with one stone.

[HIDDEN MISSION! Collaborate with Your Team successfully completed! REWARD: Leadership skill unlocked!]

Cain watched the faint change in Han's expression—a subtle softening that most people would miss, but Cain had become more attuned to these details. He'd been studying his group, trying to figure out how to get through to each member. And now, he could sense the first crack in Han's wall of indifference.

He decided to push a little further, keeping his tone light and nonchalant. "You know, Han, I think we've been forcing ourselves into roles we're not meant for. This whole time, we've been trying to fit into what we think an idol group should look like, instead of figuring out who we are first." Cain glanced at the others, making sure they were listening too. "It's time to work with what we've got. No more pretending to be something we're not."

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with an unspoken understanding. Rhea and Lina exchanged a glance, the lingering tension between them easing, if only slightly.

Cain had managed to steer them toward a moment of self-reflection without directly pointing out their flaws. The playback exercise had done its job—it had exposed their weaknesses in a way that felt constructive, not critical.

"I've been thinking about something," Rhea spoke up, her voice softer than usual. Her typical bravado was missing, replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability. "Maybe I've been too focused on trying to be the best at everything. It's like... I keep trying to outshine everyone, but I end up losing sight of what we're actually supposed to be doing."

Lina gave a short, bitter laugh. "Same here. I guess I've been treating this like a competition instead of a group effort. It's hard to switch off that mentality when it's all you've ever known."

Cain was surprised to see them acknowledging their flaws so openly. He wasn't used to this level of honesty from either of them, especially not with each other. It was a sign that they were finally starting to see what he'd been trying to show them: that they needed to work together, not against each other.

Dylan, who had been quietly observing from the side, stepped forward. "You're right," he said simply. "We've all been stuck in our own heads, trying to prove something. But this isn't a solo performance. We need to figure out how to blend our strengths and cover each other's weaknesses."

Cain felt a surge of relief. He'd been worried that Dylan would remain aloof, focused only on his own agenda, but it seemed like even he was willing to give this a shot.

"Alright then," Cain said, clapping his hands together to get their attention. "Let's try something new. Forget everything we've been doing up until now. No rapping if it doesn't feel natural, no fighting over who gets the most lines. Let's just... sing. Together."

He stepped back, motioning for Han to start. "Han, just go with whatever feels comfortable for you. Don't force it."

Han hesitated, his eyes darting to the others as if expecting ridicule. But when no one made a move to laugh or comment, he took a deep breath and began to hum a melody. It wasn't a rap; it was a low, soothing tune, something that seemed to resonate from deep within him. His voice, unstrained and natural, filled the room with a surprising warmth.

Rhea joined in next, her voice blending with Han's in a harmony that was unexpectedly beautiful. She softened her usual powerful delivery, matching Han's tone instead of overpowering it. Lina followed, her voice weaving in effortlessly, complementing theirs rather than competing.

Dylan nodded along, tapping his foot to the rhythm. He didn't join in vocally, but his body language showed that he was engaged, absorbed in the music they were creating together.

Cain felt a swell of pride as he watched them. This was what he'd been aiming for—a moment of unity where their individual talents combined into something greater than the sum of its parts. He could see it in their faces too; a realization was dawning on them that they were capable of so much more when they worked as a team.

Fifi, who had been watching silently from her perch on Cain's shoulder, whispered into his ear, "You did it. This is what true leadership looks like. You didn't just give orders; you brought out the best in them."

Cain gave a small smile, his eyes never leaving his team. "Yeah," he murmured. "But this is just the beginning. We've still got a long way to go."

The group continued to sing, their voices rising and falling in harmony. It was far from perfect—there were moments when they fell out of sync, or when one voice would dominate too much—but it was a start. They were learning to listen to each other, to adjust and adapt in real-time.

After a while, the song tapered off naturally, and they stood there, a little breathless, staring at each other with a mix of surprise and exhilaration.

"That... felt different," Han admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He seemed almost shy, as if revealing this side of himself was something he wasn't used to.

"Yeah," Rhea agreed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "It felt... real."

Lina nodded, her usual sharpness replaced with a rare softness. "We actually sounded like a group."

Cain took a deep breath, letting the moment sink in. He felt a sense of accomplishment that was deeper than any victory he'd ever achieved on his own. This was what it meant to be part of something bigger than himself.