"Trainee Riku!" A staff member approached, clipboard in hand.
"Y-yes?!" Riku jumped, his heart pounding.
"You're up first. Be ready in 30 minutes," the staff member said, barely glancing at him before moving on to the next trainee.
Riku looked like he'd just seen a ghost. "M-me? First?!"
"That's what I said," the staff member called over his shoulder as he walked away.
Riku turned to C.C., panic written all over his face. "W-what am I going to do?! There's a new judge today, and I'm going to be cannon fodder!"
Cain put a firm hand on Riku's shoulder, steadying him. "Relax. You've got the look, but your overall appeal isn't matching up. You're lacking that final touch to really sell it."
"Egh? What do you mean?" Riku asked, his anxiety peaking.
"Leave it to me," Cain said confidently, pulling out his [Celestial Comb]. "Nothing a god-tier hairstyle and a bit of eyeshadow won't fix."
Riku blinked, watching Cain as he set to work with the focus of a master craftsman.
With swift, practiced movements, Cain styled Riku's hair, giving it a tousled yet deliberate look that matched the street-rap aesthetic.
Next, Cain applied a hint of smoky eyeshadow, enough to make Riku's eyes pop without overwhelming his natural features.
"There. Now you look like someone who's here to compete," Cain said, stepping back to admire his work.
Riku stared at his reflection, wide-eyed. He hardly recognized himself. The clothes, the hair, the makeup — it all clicked together now. He looked confident, edgy, like someone who was ready to own the stage.
"C.C., this . . . this is incredible. I feel like a different person," Riku said, his voice filled with awe.
Cain nodded. "Good. Now go out there and show them what you've got. And remember, don't hold back. We're all here to win, but that doesn't mean we can't help each other out."
Was that even allowed?
He blinked in disbelief, trying to process what he was seeing. She wasn't just some celebrity — Felice Richardson was his benefactor. Wouldn't that make her biased toward him?
But then again, Cain barely knew the woman. Felice was as unpredictable as she was powerful, and if there was one thing Cain knew for sure, it was that she played by her own rules.
Seeing her sitting on the judges' panel was a shock, though. She wasn't supposed to be there — he was certain of that.
Felice had called the production team herself, saying she wanted to be a part of the show. And who could say no to Felice Richardson? No one. Not when she had hundreds of millions of followers hanging on her every word and move.
The production team had no choice but to accommodate her. She wasn't just a fashion icon; she was a force of nature, and with her appearance, everything about the competition shifted.
Cain wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or even more on edge. Felice was unpredictable, and in this game, that could either be his biggest advantage or his greatest downfall.
"Alright, time to bring out our first trainee!" the host announced, as the stage erupted into a dazzling display of lights and colors. The audience roared in anticipation.
"Riku's up first, right?" Mitchell asked, glancing down at the list.
Evelyn chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling. "I remember that kid. His face is so innocent, such a contrast to his hard-hitting rap skills."
"His rapping is vibrant, crisp, and definitely noteworthy," Mitcherll agreed, nodding in approval.
"Yeah, his rap might be good, but his dancing still needs serious improvement," Jaxton chimed in with a slight frown.
Kalista gave a quick nod in agreement, her eyes scanning the stage in anticipation.
Felice, however, remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Jaxton attempted to draw her into the conversation. After all, it wasn't every day that he got to socialize with someone of her stature — a high-society heiress with more influence than most could ever dream of.
"What do you think, Felice?" Jaxon asked, his voice smooth as he leaned toward her slightly.