12 Male Tenor Vocal Coaching Challenge (5)

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths—deep breath, deep breath, deep breath, deep breath, deep breath—until you barely managed to compose your shattered spirit. Only then did you pull out your phone and glance at the countdown timer.

【02:15:59】

Just two hours and fifteen minutes left.

You originally thought that a hurried shower would take no more than twenty minutes, leaving you about an hour and fifty minutes. Even if you rested for half a minute every minute, you could still complete the required one-hour lesson.

But now, you weren’t so sure.

Moreover, you had a premonition that no matter how much you shouted today, no one would come to open the door for you.

Still, you decided to try harder.

You mimicked Ke Yun’s frantic search for her child, pounding heavily on the door from the inside and shouting loudly: “Someone! Someone! Someone…”

“Someone! Someone!” You shouted with increasing fluency, “Someone! Someone! If you’re so good at stealing men, have the guts to open the door!”

Huh, why did you feel like you were shouting in a loop?

As you tried to recall which classic character said that line, something seemed to stir outside the door…

Movement?

Your frantic knocking suddenly stopped.

You tilted your head and pressed your ear against the door, holding your breath to listen carefully.

“Teacher Su, may I ask what you need?” A low male voice came from the other side of the door.

You awkwardly lowered your hand and silently turned away.

Too embarrassing…

You held your breath, trying to fool the system into thinking your heart had stopped again, hoping it would take you away from this unbearably awkward world.

Your face turned red and your neck stiffened, but the familiar dizziness never came.

You couldn’t help but think: This game really isn’t easy to trick.

You listlessly tidied the damp strands of hair on either side of your face and turned back to face the door.

More precisely, the unknown man behind it.

Clearing your throat, you asked, “May I ask who you are?”

“You may call me Butler Li.”

There was no peephole on the door, so you couldn’t see him, but the man’s voice sounded mature—definitely not your mission target.

You complied and called him “Butler Li,” then deliberately asked, “This door seems broken. Why can’t I open it from inside?”

“Teacher Su, the door isn’t broken. I locked it from the outside under the young master’s orders.” The voice paused before continuing, “When the time is up, I will open the door for you promptly.”

Butler Li’s frank shamelessness left you speechless.

Without waiting for your reply, the voice outside spoke again after a while, this time with a soothing tone:

“Please don’t worry. I will stay outside the door the whole time. If you need anything—food, drink, entertainment—just let me know, and I will take care of it all. You can think of it as enjoying a spa at a hotel.”

You: “???” Nice words, but really, he’s just watching you, afraid you’ll escape.

“Fine, so Mr. Fu just doesn’t want to attend class. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t.” You pretended not to care whether the young master attended or not. “Will I still get the make-up lesson fee as agreed?”

“Teacher Su, rest assured, not a cent will be missing. The young master just instructed that once the session ends, he will also compensate you for travel expenses, laundry fees, and mental distress.”

You: “…”

Mental distress compensation? That’s a bit too considerate…

Honestly, if this happened in real life, you’d probably stay inside obediently, wait until the time was up, take the unexpected money happily, and leave.

You wouldn’t be like now, obsessing over escaping to give make-up lessons.

But in this game, even if they gave you a million game coins, you couldn’t take them out.

You and the other person engaged in a polite, peaceful exchange through the door.

You: “Can you call Mr. Fu for me?”

Butler Li: “The young master is currently trying on his evening banquet suit for tomorrow night. He will leave for the event in an hour. His schedule is tight and he cannot spare time to see you.”

You glanced at your phone. The countdown read 【02:11:01】, meaning your target would leave the villa when the timer reached one hour and ten minutes.

You clung to a sliver of hope: “So... the door will be opened in an hour?”

Butler Li: “More precisely, in one hour and ten minutes.”

You: “??? Is that to prevent me from rushing out just in time, chasing after the young master’s car, crying and begging to tutor him?”

Butler Li: “If you understand, that’s all I can hope for.”

You rolled your eyes silently behind the door and asked again, “What kind of appointment?”

Butler Li: “The young master has a lunch appointment with his family.”

You insincerely remarked, “That sounds really important.”

Butler Li replied solemnly, “Indeed.”

Every answer felt more reasonable than the game system’s responses, and you comforted yourself.

You had asked all your questions; now you needed to act quickly.

You let out an exaggerated sigh at the door and pretended to accept your fate, then said to the man outside, “I want Korean fried chicken, half spicy-sweet and half cheese flavor, plus a can of cold cola. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll order it now, and the kitchen will send it to you as soon as it’s ready.” Butler Li shifted his tone. “But it will take some time to prepare. You can take a shower first so you don’t catch a cold.”

You stopped arguing: “Okay.”

You deliberately made loud footsteps as you undressed and headed to the shower. You turned on the showerhead, and warm water sprinkled down like a gentle rain.

You examined the bathroom carefully. All the toiletries were imported products you had never seen before.

The only downside was that they were all men’s products.

You squeezed two pumps of body wash into your palm and lathered it up. The warm steam was instantly filled with a pleasant scent.

You sniffed your palm—fresh, subtle cedarwood.

Different from Mr. Fu’s scent, which was more like fresh citrus after a cold rain, full of vitality.

You searched carefully but found nothing similar, so you guessed this bathroom was prepared for guests.

You took a five-minute combat shower, then put on the clothes the game had prepared for you and stepped out of the shower.

The shower kept running “whoosh-whoosh,” while you, like a cat ready to pounce, crept back to the door.

In your right hand, you gripped a cylindrical shampoo bottle you’d taken from the shower, crouching on the left side of the door.

A gray towel draped around your neck, its ends covering the damp spot on your chest.

You strained to listen to sounds in the hallway, mentally rehearsing the coming scene:

Soon someone would bring the fried chicken. When the door opened from the outside, you would dart out quickly.

To prevent your escape, they would probably place the tray inside the door and close it swiftly.

Since every 800-meter fitness test nearly cost you your life, and the system hadn’t given you any stamina or agility boosts, you reasonably guessed your reflexes wouldn’t allow a swift, nimble escape.

But if stamina lacked, intellect would make up.

You decided that if it came to this, you’d wedge the shampoo bottle in the door gap to buy yourself time.

You pressed your ear to the door, fully focused, considering every possibility.

You even wondered if there was a hidden food delivery hatch in the door.

Like those small doors you see in foreign prison shows where guards pass meals to prisoners.

This was a wealthy household; nothing was impossible.

So you stood and thoroughly checked the door from the highest point your arm could reach to the lowest.

You confirmed it was just an ordinary door, no secret delivery hatch.

You crouched again, relieved, listening for any sign outside.

Minutes passed, but the footsteps you hoped for never came.

You regretted ordering a combo flavor of fried chicken. Maybe if you’d just picked one flavor, they’d be faster?

Perhaps you should have ordered a quick bowl of plain noodles instead?

Suddenly, a noise came from behind you.

You had confirmed no one else was in the bathroom when you came in. Stiffening your neck, you slowly turned around.

You gripped the shampoo bottle tightly and stepped cautiously toward the noise, as carefully as a female detective with a gun investigating a crime scene.

As you neared the bathtub by the window, you sensed something was wrong.

You stopped by the tub and glanced down at the rose petals scattered all over it. They were unnervingly silent, the sounds didn’t seem to come from underwater.

The faint noise continued.

You looked up and saw a black shadow behind the white sheer curtain.

You raised your hand and yanked the curtain open with a “whoosh.”

Caught off guard, your eyes met those of a hovering drone outside the window.

At that moment, your silence was like a bursting dam, flooding the whole land…

Poverty had limited your imagination. You never expected that if the door didn’t open, fried chicken could still be “flown” in through the window.

Your careful vigilance by the door just now had turned into a joke.

You pushed the window open; the drone’s buzzing noise came straight into your ears.

You sighed helplessly at the window’s excellent soundproofing, expressionless as you took the exquisite three-tiered food box from the drone and decisively closed the window.

You looked down through the spotless floor-to-ceiling window—three stories below clearly visible.

Jumping from here would probably cost your legs.

This was just a game. You were here to teach, not a superhero or savior of the world.

You easily gave up on the “desperate” choice.

Sliding down next to the window, you placed the three-tiered food box by your side.

You felt life was meaningless and opened the box.

The first layer held cheese-flavored fried chicken and a dish of cheese powder;

The second layer contained sweet and spicy fried chicken coated in glossy red sauce;

The third layer had a 330ml can of cola, an empty whiskey glass, a small ice bucket, and six fresh lemon slices.

Suddenly, you felt you could live a little longer.

You picked up the tongs and filled a half glass with ice, poured the cola into the whiskey glass with a fizz, and topped it with the largest, roundest lemon slice.

You took a big gulp; the cold, sweet bubbles hit the roof of your mouth, and you actually felt alive again.

You stopped thinking about the damn mission, picked the crispiest, most beautifully fried chicken leg, rolled it fiercely in the cheese powder, and shoved it into your mouth.

It was delicious!

The crunch of the crispy skin sent a shudder through your soul. Inside, the meat was tender and juicy, hot and fragrant—you’d never tasted fried chicken this good!

So good your eyes sparkled brightly.

You ate a bite of chicken, then a sip of cola, alternating, until you felt refreshed and invigorated.

Patting your round belly, you checked the time:

【01:31:36】

Your target would leave the villa when the timer reached one hour and ten minutes, meaning you had at most twenty minutes left.

Having almost given up, you now felt you could try again.

If you could get out within twenty minutes, maybe you’d have a chance to catch the target’s car and escape.

Then, you’d pin him down in the car and give him a full hour of lessons!

You sprang up and started searching like a pirate.

Your objective was the toolbox.

You remembered that at home you always kept a small repair kit. If you found something similar here, maybe you could try to pick the lock?

You rummaged through every cabinet in the bathroom and adjoining room but found nothing but various towels and toiletries.

Finally, you even considered the toothbrush.

You recalled how protagonists in Western prison shows used sharpened toothbrushes to kill or pick locks.

Drawing on vague memories, you tried rubbing the toothbrush against the corner of the wall.

Two minutes later, your hands were red, but the toothbrush was still just a toothbrush.

You wisely abandoned the idea.

You then eyed the neatly stacked white and gray towels and bath towels in the cabinet, thinking maybe you could tie them together into a rope and rappel down the window like a fire escape.

But when you opened the window again and looked down, fear rejected this brave plan for you.

You also thought of unscrewing the showerhead to use as a hammer.

You returned to the shower stall only to find the showerhead was integrated and couldn’t be removed…

One idea after another popped into your mind and was crushed by reality.

Watching the countdown on your phone tick from 01:11:00 to 01:10:59, you finally gave up the futile struggle.

Even if you went out now, your target would already be gone.

You guessed that in ten minutes, because the available tutoring time would be less than an hour, you’d be deemed a failure, and the game would restart once again.

You sat back down by the bathtub and ate the remaining chicken leg, waiting to be sent to the next round.

“Cold chicken leg, flat soda, and you, soaked like a drowned rat~”

You hummed an off-key tune, gnawing on chicken that must have lost at least half its flavor, playing with the rose petals floating in the tub.

Eating, playing, singing—perhaps freed from the pressure of time—you suddenly understood the strange feeling that arose when you first saw the bathtub filled with rose petals.

Filling such a large tub with water wasn’t something that could be done in the time it took to walk from the first to the third floor.

And those rose petals, so out of place among the all-men’s toiletries…

Was it a distraction?

A sweet bribe to soothe you?

Or perhaps… a blatant provocation?

One thing was certain: all this had been prepared from the very beginning.

Forgetting the water basin on the door because you were “cute,” the thoughtful handkerchief to wipe your wet hair, the exchanges with the housekeeper…

It was a perfect chain of cause and effect, every link fitting seamlessly.

Your target’s acting skills were truly superb!

Ten minutes later, when the golden “Game Over” flashed into existence over the sea of rose petals in the bathtub, you bit your lip to keep from fainting immediately.

Staring at the blood-red rose petals, you gritted your teeth like the wolf swearing to return:

“Mr. Fu, next round, we’ll take a bath together!”