A Blank Slate Regression for the Idol That Lost His Original Mindset - Chapter 6

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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A Regression Guide for Idols Who Lost Their Initial Intentions Episode 6

“In the end, Daydream got the most votes for the fandom name. Tsk, what a shame. Nyx would have been pretty to say too. So what should we use as our fandom nickname? Day? Or Dream from the ending? Or since it’s daydream, how about Ilmong?”

“Terrible! That’s so terrible!”

At my irritated outburst, Ryu Jaehee’s eyes widened as he whipped around to look at me.

“What, are you saying my ideas are terrible right now? Then you come up with something, hyung. If it’s a nickname that’s cooler, cuter, easier to say, and rolls off the tongue better than Day, Dream, or Ilmong, I’ll acknowledge it.”

“What kind of bull… I mean, nonsense. I’m saying the equipment and facilities are terrible. And your way of speaking seems pretty terrible too?”

What? “You come up with something”? “I’ll acknowledge it”? When I looked away from the personal feed and glared at him with fierce eyes, Jaehee quickly tucked his tail between his legs.

I was already annoyed enough that I couldn’t find a studio I liked no matter how hard I looked.

Before my regression, I had my own proper studio, but now I had absolutely nothing, so renting was the only option.

Creating a separate studio like before my regression would cost too much money and was impossible with my current financial situation.

But studios with composition equipment were expensive to rent, buried underground which was bad for health, and most importantly, the equipment was terrible.

Of course, they say a craftsman doesn’t blame his tools, but I did blame them. If it wasn’t the latest equipment, I just didn’t feel right about it…

While drinking the herbal medicine my mom had frantically sent me a whole bundle of after hearing I’d coughed up blood, I scrolled through my list of contacts from the hip-hop underground scene and spotted a familiar name.

[Yongcheol Hyung- Finally finished moving all the equipment]

[Yongcheol Hyung- Wanna come check out my new studio?]

[Yeah, should I buy a congratulatory flower arrangement?]

[Yongcheol Hyung- What opening? Did I start a business or something?]

I scrolled through the recent chat content that didn’t exist in my memories spanning seven years, then tapped the mattress with my finger.

‘Should I contact him or not?’

I ran my hands through my hair irritably and tried to hypnotize myself.

‘It should be fine. Right now our relationship hasn’t gone sour yet…’

Still, contacting someone whose relationship had soured before my regression and ended in the worst possible way required quite a bit of resolve and mental preparation.

But considering my agency’s situation of having to rent external recording studios even when recording debut album tracks, and my paper-thin wallet, this was the best option.

From my memory, the next album release was four months after the debut album activity release date. Considering concept meetings, recording, and music video filming, I had less than a month left.

To complete the song sampling by then, I had to start working as soon as possible. That way I could bring that song to the internal meeting in three weeks.

This was still a time when boy groups could compete sufficiently with mainstream appeal like girl groups.

If the song turned out well and captured the public’s eyes and ears, I could expect effects beyond even a reverse-trending fancam.

But the problem was that the next album was just as terrible as the debut album.

Reve before my regression took two consecutive chart failures like that and went down the path of a flop idol group. But now, unlike the past, there was the condition of having to create over 30 million fans.

To end this damn regression, I absolutely had to make the next album successful and take the route to becoming a top-tier group.

Click, my thumb pressed the call button like I was crushing it. After a few ring tones, the other person answered.

-Hey, Yoon Eden! Congratulations on your debut! But you didn’t write those rap lyrics, right? They were fucking terrible.

A playful voice came through the receiver. I tried not to show any awkwardness and got straight to the point.

“Hyung, could I possibly borrow your studio?”

-Yeah, of course that’s fine. I’m at the studio right now, want to come over now? I’ll text you the address.

He readily agreed without even asking what it was about.

I put on my hat and headed for the front door, when Kim Dobin, who was sitting on the sofa, looked up from his cell phone screen and called out to me.

“Eden hyung, where are you going?”

“To find a way to survive.”

At my answer, the youngest’s eyes trembled slightly, but I just brushed it off wondering why he was acting like that.

* * *

I sent a text saying I’d arrived and knocked on the door. The door swung open and a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties greeted me.

His face looked much younger than in my last memory of him.

“Hey, ED!”

Seeing Yongcheol hyung’s face greeting me so naturally, I suddenly felt choked up.

The past before my regression overlapped, when we’d become worse than strangers in an instant due to misunderstandings caused by someone driving a wedge between us.

Right, we used to be this close. If hyung had apologized first, I would have gladly accepted it.

“Yongcheol hyuuung!”

Overwhelmed by rising sorrow and joy at seeing someone after so long, I spread my arms wide and ran toward him, but Yongcheol hyung’s expression turned serious as he covered my face with his palm and pushed me away.

“Hey, what grown man runs up asking for a hug like that? It’s disgusting. And I told you not to call me Yongcheol.”

Well, if I can’t call Yongcheol “Yongcheol,” then what should I call him?

Yongcheol hyung let me into the studio, glanced at my profile, then shook his head.

“How is it that even after becoming an idol, your looks haven’t changed at all?”

“Come on, I haven’t had any work done, so how would my appearance change? Honestly, do I have a face that needed plastic surgery to debut?”

“Well, you were always good-looking enough. That’s why you didn’t rot in the underground and debuted as an idol.”

Yongcheol hyung giggled while waving his hand in front of his face.

Real name Lee Yongcheol. Stage name D.I.

Dragon (Yong) Iron (Cheol), shortened to D.I.

He was a hyung I’d become close with a few years ago when I briefly dipped my toes into the hip-hop underground scene under the stage name ED.

He’d approached me first, making the unfunny joke about how since he was D.I and I was ED, how about we form a double duo called ED.I.

When I gave up on the underground and chose the idol path, our paths diverged, but we still kept in touch until my third year after debut.

After that incident with someone driving a wedge between us, our relationship soured and we became worse than strangers.

With bitter feelings, I looked away from Yongcheol hyung and casually looked around the small studio.

All the equipment was definitely new, but since I still vividly remembered my studio seven years later that was decked out with the latest equipment, this somehow felt outdated.

Right, having gone back seven years, it would be greedy to expect the same level as before.

Yongcheol hyung draped his arm over my shoulder as I was pressing keys on the synthesizer keyboard in front of the monitor with the DAW (composition program) installed.

“Since you’re here anyway, treat me to celebrate your debut.”

“Of course. Is there a good restaurant you’ve spotted nearby?”

Since I’d gotten quite a few free meals from this hyung before my regression, I readily agreed. Yongcheol hyung waved his cell phone and patted my shoulder.

“Why bother going out to eat? Let’s just order Chinese delivery. How about the number 2 set?”

“That’s enough?”

“I know that scene inside and out, what money am I gonna extort from someone who flopped at debut?”

“Right, so disappointing. If you’d hit it big, we could’ve gone for steak.”

When I responded in a listless voice, Yongcheol hyung ruffled my hair saying I’d have to treat him to a success meal later when I made it big.

The delivery arrived in less than 30 minutes after ordering. The number 2 set consisting of jjamppong + jjajangmyeon + sweet and sour pork + fried dumplings + 1.25L cola was spread across the studio table.

I grumbled while unwrapping the plastic wrap wound around the jjamppong bowl.

“Those guys must all be laughing at me. Asking if this is why I ran away from the underground.”

“Actually, talking shit about you has become the underground’s favorite drinking topic these days.”

“Geez, all nobodies in the same situation putting on a damn… show.”

“Puhaha! Are you running some kind of proper speech campaign since you debuted?”

I could only scratch the back of my head without a proper comeback to his burst of laughter.

Explaining that swearing would reduce my initial intentions level and cause regression seemed crazy even to me.

We chatted about this and that, recalling past memories, and had just finished the jjamppong and sweet and sour pork bowls cleanly and were about to eat the second fried dumpling.

[High-calorie food consumption detected.]

[Initial Intentions -1]

With a sharp pain, the fried dumpling dropped back into the bowl.

Are you telling me to control my weight right now? They say even dogs don’t bother you when you’re eating, but you’re deducting points for everything. Let me eat in peace, okay?

“Not eating it?”

“Yeah, hyung, you eat more.”

This damn system is telling me not to eat. Geez, the system is killing me. First it made me cough up blood, now I can’t even eat comfortably.

[Not all food, only ‘unbalanced high-calorie food’ specifically.]

Whatever. Don’t you know the universal truth that the higher the calories, the more delicious the food?

I waved my hand dismissively at the Status Window that appeared like an excuse, swatting it away like shooing flies.

“The password is 9125, so come work here anytime. I won’t be coming up for a while. Let me know later when you need the studio too.”

“What about the rental fee?”

Instead of answering my question, Yongcheol hyung tapped his jjajangmyeon bowl with his wooden chopsticks.

“What? You said it was a debut treat.”

“I’m calling it even while we’re at it. If you really want to pay, succeed and pay me back later, you brat. It’s unpleasant seeing a young guy looking like death just because one album flopped.”

Finding some small comfort in what was, in his own style, a form of consolation, I offered some advice that might help his future.

“Thanks, hyung. If you ever go on a hip-hop survival audition, make sure to cut your hair short. Unless you want to see that mop-like hairstyle called the ‘Yongcheol cut.'”

“What are you talking about.”

Yongcheol hyung scratched his shaggy hair and muttered as he finished cleaning up, gathering the empty bowls and leaving the studio.

As soon as the door closed, I immediately turned on the computer and sat in front of the synthesizer, tapping the keyboard with my fingertips.

Creating a completely new song would be too risky.

I needed to make my move as quickly as possible while I could still get investment from our agency’s capital without raising suspicion, and while the possibility of being a debut rookie still existed.

To do that, I had to maximize the success rate of this gamble somehow.

A song with proven mass appeal and a somewhat guaranteed success rate.

A song that would pair well with an addictive hook and easy-to-follow choreography.

And a song that perfectly fit a concept that wouldn’t require too much capital.

“Was this the hook chord?”

As I pressed the keyboard, a melody formed under my fingertips. I hummed the lyrics along with the melody, lost in memories.

This song was one I had composed in the past.

Fed up with our agency’s attitude of always finding fault with whatever songs I composed and brought to them, I had impulsively sold this song to a rookie boy group from a mid-small entertainment company.

Thanks to the song that charted at a pretty high rank, that boy group caught the public’s attention, and afterward, they achieved moderate success with much more sensible promotion from that agency compared to ours.

It was also the song that first introduced me to the sweet taste of copyright royalty income.

Using another composer’s hit song would be outright theft, but since this is ‘my song,’ I’m certainly qualified to use it.

I offered a brief apology to the group that would end up losing their future debut song.

Sorry, I’ll make you a decent song later instead. That works, right?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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