Gangster to Idol

Tank, a low-ranking member of CROSS, had no choice but to accept the commands of their vice leader, Joker. He often found himself stuck with menial errands and cleaning duties, alongside the other newbies.

He had joined the gang, enduring the grueling initiation, only to become an errand boy? Tank initially thought CROSS was formidable, their undefeated record in fights was legendary. But now, it seemed they only triumphed over weaker gangs.

When it came to real power, like the Silver Serpents with their wealthy backing, CROSS appeared like boys against armed men. The Silver Serpents likely saw them as insignificant, a nuisance they could crush at any moment if they bothered to notice at all.

Tank sighed, questioning his decision. Should he have aimed higher, joined the Silver Serpents instead? But would he even qualify for their initiation? They probably only recruited trained soldiers or ex-military, given their large-scale illegal operations.

Tank resigned to his fate. It wasn't like he was serious about this stuff anyway. If he got bored, he'd leave and maybe find another gang or something. He didn't have any attachment to this place. He didn't have any friends here, and he was treated like an errand boy more than anything else.

Tank released a breath and knocked on Cain's door, but he stopped midway when he heard some noise and a bit of drama inside. Maybe a movie was playing.

He was already two months in the gang, but this would be the first time he had any direct interaction with Cain. They said he was scary and would break your nose if he didn't like what you said.

Tank suddenly had cold feet. He pictured Cain's scary face in his head and wanted to retreat and cry away.

"A-anyway . . . I'll just say I checked up on him. I can lie to Joker that I did checked up on him without disturbing him, right?" Tank mused to himself.

He was about to turn back when he noticed that the door wasn't locked. There was a tiny gap between the door and its frame, and curiosity got the better of him. Before he could think of the consequences of his actions, his body moved towards the small gap to catch a glimpse of their leader.

Tank peered through the narrow gap, expecting to see the imposing figure of Cain absorbed in a movie. Instead, he was greeted with a scene far more . . . different.

There was Cain, poised with a presence that was captivating it took his breath away. His eyes, sharp and focused, conveyed a depth of emotion that Tank had never witnessed in any person.

The room was dimly lit, the shadows dancing across Cain's face, amplifying the magnetism of his words. He wasn't merely speaking; he was embodying the essence of each line, his voice rising and falling with a rhythmic grace that demanded attention. Each word was laced with a quiet power, resonating in the air with a profound impact.

"I know the weight you carry, the doubts that gnaw at your spirit. But hear me now — no one in this brotherhood stands alone. I've walked through fire, endured pain you can't imagine, all to ensure that none of you have to bear that burden alone.

"My strength is yours, my fight is yours, and I will not rest until each of you knows what it feels like to rise above the ashes. We may be bruised, we may be scarred, but together, we are unstoppable. You are my family, and I will lay down everything to see you rise, to see you find your place in this world."

Tank, who had once dismissed Cain as just another gang leader, now stood spellbound. It felt as though Cain was speaking directly to him, radiating a brilliance that lit up the room like fireworks. He seemed like a messiah, sent to guide and uplift him.

Tank's knees buckled, his breath caught in his throat, captivated by the sheer aura of Cain's presence. This was a leader he had never truly seen before — a man overflowing with charisma and unwavering dedication.

This was a man Tank would follow to the ends of the earth, a leader who commanded loyalty with his very presence!

Cain was lost in his own world, and continued his recitation, oblivious to Tank's presence. The movie dialogue flowed seamlessly from his lips, his delivery flawless. It was as if the room was a theater, and Cain was the star, commanding the attention of an invisible audience.

"My lord!" Tank suddenly shouted tears streaming down his face. "Your light has revealed the path I never knew I needed. I swear, with every ounce of my strength, I will follow you to the world's end. Tank will be your shield, your unwavering protector. I pledge my life to see your dreams become reality, to stand by your side and watch your ambitions soar! I promise you!"

"What the–!" Cain exclaimed, jolted from his focus by the unexpected intrusion. He was so absorbed in his acting that he hadn't noticed someone in his room. Thinking he had locked the door, he realized the bolt must not have clicked into place. Thankfully, he still didn't remove his wig.

"You—what are you doing here? Get out!" Cain demanded, shoving Tank toward the door. Yet Tank was surprisingly strong, and resisted, still babbling words of reverence.

"My lord! I will fight for you! I will die for you!"

"FUCK OFF!" Cain barked, his patience wearing thin. He shoved Tank out with a final burst of force, then slammed the door on his face and locked it tight.

Outside, Tank's muffled sobs and desperate promises drifted through the door — he swore he would follow Cain to the ends of the earth, even to hell and back that Cain was now his sole reason for living.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Cain muttered, shaking his head. He double-locked the door just in case, then turned back to his training, trying to refocus on his goals.

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