Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 154

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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154. Someone’s Period (4)
When Gong Seok learned he had been nominated as a candidate for tenth place, he felt surprisingly calm.
‘Perhaps it’s because I made peace with it all last night…?’
Last night, he had organized every possession in the Dormitory and packed his suitcase.
It wasn’t merely an act of removing his belongings—it was a process of erasing his lingering attachments.
If he survived today and returned to the Dormitory to unpack that suitcase, that would be its own joy.
But if he was eliminated today and went home, Seok felt he could now close that Dormitory door without hesitation and step into the world beyond.
‘…Still, I made it this far.’
Seok found that fact surprisingly moving.
Just months ago, he was merely a General Class trainee on the verge of being cut, someone who couldn’t even dream of debut. Now he stood at a rank where he could compete with the Finals ticket within reach.
“….”
“…Ugh.”
A pained sound from beside him drew Seok’s attention. Jae-young, standing next to him, trembled with his hands clasped together as if in prayer. Tears had already streaked his face—he must have broken down earlier.
Seok hesitated for a moment.
Though they had been in the same General Class, they weren’t particularly close or intimate….
But he wanted to be someone Jae-young could lean on in a moment like this.
“Jae-young.”
“Ugh, …yes?”
“Want to hold hands? I’m trembling too.”
“….”
When Seok quietly extended his hand, Jae-young hesitated as if taken aback, then slowly unclenched his tightly clasped hands and carefully grasped Seok’s.
“Hyung. Even if you pass and I’m eliminated, I really, truly mean it—I can congratulate you with all my heart. I’ll celebrate you with everything I have.”
“Yeah. I’ll do the same for you.”
“Honestly, just getting into Miro Maze was already unbelievable. So I’m really, truly okay with this. Even if I’m eliminated here, I can genuinely be fine with it.”
“Same here. Whichever of us makes it, let’s cheer each other on.”
“Yes…. Ugh, if I’m eliminated this time, what do I tell Yun Tae-hee? He kept saying I should survive long and debut. Well, I guess not having to diet sounds kind of nice too.”
Jae-young seemed to be the type who talked more when anxious.
While the cameras repositioned for the shoot and Seo Tae-il reviewed his lines, Jae-young chattered away. Seok was slightly surprised to hear the name Tae-hee again after so long, and he smiled warmly at the mention.
“Really? How’s Tae-hee doing?”
“I’m not sure. Since this started, I haven’t had time to contact him…. Oh, but he came to watch our guerrilla concert recently. Right, he said to tell you he really enjoyed watching your stage performance.”
“Tae-hee came back then?”
“Yes. Oh, hyung. I’m really so nervous, what do I do?”
Jae-young trembled as if he might burst into tears again at any moment from the tension.
Seok squeezed Jae-young’s hand firmly once more, grasping it tightly, and smiled at him with warmth.
“…It’s okay. We worked hard, didn’t we?”
So whatever the result, Seok felt he would be fine now.
“Yes! We’ll restart filming! Beginning recording!”
At the PD’s announcement that filming was resuming, tension returned to the hands the two held together.
The lights that had stopped came back on. Seok gazed silently and for a long time at one of the overhead lights.
For a very long time.
So that the dazzling, brilliant lights that threatened to blind me would remain etched in my memory for years to come.
* * *
The moment of parting was far simpler than I had steeled myself for.
“The second round of eliminations to determine who will seize the final ticket. In tenth place is….”
“….”
“Park Jae-young, a trainee who has shown remarkable growth and taken on new challenges with each round.”
The moment my name was called, I collapsed to the floor. Yet even then, I didn’t let go of Seok’s hand—he held firm, dropping to his knees beside me and pulling me into an embrace.
“Congratulations, Jae-young. You worked so hard.”
I clung to Seok, repeating apologies and thanks endlessly. When Seo Tae-il asked me to share my feelings about passing, I couldn’t let go of Seok, weeping until he gently guided me toward the stage. It fell to him to compose myself enough to speak.
“I really think this is an honor I don’t deserve… *sniff*, I never thought I’d make it this far… *sob*, I don’t even know what to say….”
Like before, my acceptance remarks were a mess of tears. Seok listened with a calm heart to every word. With Jayden’s help, I had climbed to tenth place.
And now, it was my turn to say goodbye.
The three eliminated trainees took the stage. As Kyung-ho and Yuki shared their final thoughts, I too wrestled with what I should say.
When the microphone finally came to me, I opened my mouth with a strange sense of relief.
“I think I’ve always lived believing I was a supporting character.”
A supporting character.
Could any word describe my life more precisely?
“Every time I felt my own inadequacy during Miro Maze, this place felt too heavy, too frightening, and sometimes I wanted to run away.”
I looked at the ten boys standing before me.
They shone brilliantly, beautifully—destined to become the stars of the world I once so desperately admired.
But so what?
“Thank you for making someone like me shine, Destiny.”
I remembered the voice calling my name at the guerrilla concert, cheering me on.
I remembered those who waved signs bearing my name, saying my songs had comforted them.
In their memories, I would forever remain someone who shone.
“Though my journey through Miro Maze has ended, I will carry the brilliant moments I spent here and live forward with courage.”
I once thought life was like waves—that when everything was swept away, it was the end.
But I learned that some lives are like butterflies, and as they simply rest and fly, other flowers can bloom in their wake.
I wanted to remember today not as a day of failure and despair, but as the day I finally found the courage to open another door.
“Thank you for listening to my songs all this time.”
With those final words, I held back the tears that had risen to my throat.
When I finished and closed my mouth, the set fell silent—no applause, no exclamations, only the sound of quiet sobbing.
“…Those who reach for the sun, soar ever higher. The final journey to find Miro’s Icarus. Which seven trainees will claim ultimate victory in the final live broadcast? We ask that you stay with us to witness their challenge to the very end.”
Seo Tae-il, his eyes equally red, managed to deliver the closing remarks in a strained voice.
The signal came that recording had ended, but the production team gave no further instructions, as if allowing the cast to fully share in the sorrow of elimination and the pain of parting.
In that moment, it was Seo Tae-il who approached the eliminated trainees first.
“Seok.”
“Ah, senior… Thank you for everything.”
“…Yes. You worked hard. You really did.”
Seo Tae-il embraced each of the eliminated trainees—Yuki, Kyung-ho, and Seok—offering comfort and praise for their efforts.
Once, I could never have imagined meeting the idol industry’s top star face-to-face, let alone receiving comfort from them. Seok found himself thinking rather flatly that the world he inhabited was indeed a different realm altogether.
After Seo Tae-il passed, the ten successful trainees standing on the platform came rushing down.
As the saying goes, even enmity becomes affection, and Kyung-ho, who had always started fights, was now nestled in Si-woo’s arms sobbing uncontrollably. Yuki was exchanging greetings with Eun-chan, Ha-ru, and Jae-young, who were called the youngest line, when someone entirely unexpected approached him.
“Hyung.”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, Do-ha. Congratulations on second place. You really are amazing.”
“….”
Do-ha, who had participated in the end-of-month evaluation together with Seok, stood before him and hesitated for a moment. Seok, regarding him with confusion, soon watched as Do-ha awkwardly spread his arms, and I let out a foolish sound. To Do-ha’s request for an embrace, I too awkwardly shuffled forward and held him.
“…Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
“Hyung, sometimes you sing well with your chest voice, but then suddenly you belt with your raw voice. You could definitely go higher when raising your pitch, but it seems like you do that because of anxiety—’What if I can’t do it?’ You’re capable of singing higher, so you should have more confidence.”
“Huh…?”
The sudden flood of coaching shattered my emotions like a glass window.
Seok, who had momentarily lost the thread of the moment, quickly regained his composure and fumbled out a response.
“Oh, yeah. Right, yeah. Thank you.”
“Just improving that alone would make you sing so much better than you do now.”
“…?”
“…So, I hope you keep singing no matter what.”
I like your singing, hyung.
At those simple, understated words, Gong Seok’s tears finally burst forth uncontrollably.
“If my words upset you at all….”
“No, no. No, it’s not like that. Thank you, Do-ha. For saying that.”
“….”
“I really mean it. Thank you.”
Seok hurriedly wiped away his tears and conveyed his genuine gratitude to Do-ha.
Do-ha bowed respectfully to Seok and turned to greet the others.
And in the space where Do-ha had stood, Seok found himself facing someone whose eyes were already glistening with tears.
“…Hey now. If you cry, Ha-jin, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one who should be crying.”
Seok spoke playfully with a forced smile, but Ha-jin only approached him with long strides, tears streaming down his face. I held Ha-jin, who was considerably taller and broader than me, with some effort.
“Ha-jin, you absolutely have to debut. And after you debut, you have to shine for a long, long time. You understand?”
“You’re saying something pathetic… Who told you that? Who said such nonsense? Bring me everyone who says stuff like that.”
“Still, I’ve learned so much from you, Ha-jin. You can’t pretend you don’t know I got eliminated.”
“You better keep in touch with me. You still take ten minutes to respond to my messages, what’s with that.”
His tone was fierce, but the whimpering mumble of his voice and his choked-up words made him sound anything but scary. I chuckled softly and patted the back of Ha-jin, who was holding me tightly. Though it seemed the roles of comforter and comforted had somehow reversed, I felt reasonably at peace.
I watched Ha-jin as he slowly pulled away from me, offering him a bright smile.
“Ha-jin, you know….”
I recalled what Ha-jin had said before.
That everything is just a process until you put a period on it.
“Could it be the same for me?”
“….”
“Could this just be a process for me too?”
At Seok’s question, Ha-jin’s face contorted once more in anguish. He bowed his head deeply, fighting back tears, then managed to compose himself enough to lift his gaze and speak.
“Of course, hyung.”
“…Really?”
“I’ve lived a bit, and I think that saying is true—that life has no right answers. So what if there’s no answer? No one’s grading us anyway.”
Ha-jin took both of Seok’s hands, offering that familiar, refreshing smile.
“Your tomorrow will shine even brighter.”
The words Ha-jin spoke with that smile sounded almost like an incantation.
In that moment, Seok felt it—the time had truly come to open this door and step through.
“Yeah. Thanks, Ha-jin.”
I’ve come this far because of you.
The words that rose to my lips, I swallowed them back down.
Today, I thought, was enough to reflect on this path I’ve carved out myself—not because of someone, not thanks to someone, but through my own hands.
“I’ll keep cheering you all on. Fighting.”
I was grateful I could say these words with genuine sincerity,
and with that thought, Seok broke into a radiant smile.
It was a brighter smile than ever before.

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