Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 191

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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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191. Diamond
The madman masquerading as a photographer showed no signs of stopping his excessive praise.
“Perfect, perfect. This composition, this expression, this pose. Every single element comes together to form an absolutely flawless triangle, as if measured with a ruler.”
What was this triangle business?
No matter how I looked at it, the situation felt bizarre, yet none of us dared voice our doubts.
‘The results are just too good.’
As each freshly captured photograph of Seo Tae-hyun appeared on the monitor, every staff member present—myself included—couldn’t help but gasp in admiration. Black hair, natural waves, white shirt, blue jeans. Seo Tae-hyun was methodically delivering every possible shot that could be created from such a simple combination.
Dan Ha-ru, who had a hairpin clipped in the center of his hair for volume at his bangs, pointed to one of Tae-hyun’s photographs with his finger and marveled at it.
“Tae-hyun, you really seem to photograph incredibly well. How do you even pull off expressions like this?”
In one particular shot, he was kneeling with his knees gently hugged to his chest, his head tilted languidly against them—and even I could feel that it was a genuinely excellent photograph.
‘Did he seriously just find his own muse?’
Lingering with that question, Seo Tae-hyun’s profile shoot came to an end.
Wanting to observe a few more people, I remained stationed in front of the monitor rather than retreating to the waiting room. Seo Tae-hyun approached me with a hand fan in his grip, moving with a casual shuffle.
“Did I look good?”
“Didn’t you hear earlier? Fantastic, bravo, gracias—all of it.”
“…That’s just because the writer has a talent for lip service.”
If that were true, your mouth corners wouldn’t be curving up quite so much, Tae-hyun.
The praise-vulnerable ENFP king Seo Tae-hyun couldn’t hide his pleased demeanor as he turned his gaze toward the monitor.
I watched as he meticulously reviewed his own photographs with evident satisfaction, then asked him in a low voice.
“What do you think of the writer? He was practically bombarding you with compliments. Did anything feel off?”
“Off? No, not really. He usually does that level of thing when we’re working. It’s to keep the mood up.”
Damn, I’d asked the wrong person.
It was like asking the top student in the entire school if it seemed strange that the teacher kept praising them.
Well, aside from the excessive compliments, there didn’t seem to be anything particularly problematic, so I decided to monitor the situation and checked who was scheduled for the next shoot. Jeong Si-u, dressed identically in a white shirt and blue jeans but wearing silver-rimmed glasses, was positioned on a prepared wooden stool, striking a pose.
That’s when the photographer, peering through his camera, suddenly spoke with a grave expression, waving his hand dismissively.
“I cannot proceed with this shoot.”
What?
The abrupt declaration instantly froze the entire filming studio. Even Jeong Si-u’s delicate features, as he sat in his chair, visibly stiffened.
The photographer then pressed his hand to his forehead and spoke in an exaggerated, theatrical tone.
“Unless a new camera is invented in this world capable of capturing that face, this shoot is a lie. It’s a fake. As a director, I cannot accept it.”
…Is this guy actually insane?
* * *
Despite the photographer’s boycott, Jeong Si-u’s profile shoot proceeded without incident.
Of course, throughout the entire shoot, endless praise poured forth toward Jeong Si-u’s face, but even that was something he heard every single day, so he felt no particular sense of discord.
‘The sample group consists entirely of abnormal individuals, making normal thought difficult.’
I did ask Ji Su-ho once in the middle whether this was right, but he simply broke into a broad smile and cheerfully said that we seemed to have won over the writer’s heart. His genuine joy was so authentic that I couldn’t even muster the motivation to suspect anything.
“No matter how I look at it, something feels off….”
An abnormally large number of cameras, a suspicious photographer, a bizarre situation.
I even wondered if this might be some kind of hidden camera prank from a variety show, but the profile shoot was proceeding far too methodically for that. Usually by this point in a shoot, they’d reveal the truth and say ‘Actually, it was all a lie!’ but that hadn’t happened.
‘…Is this guy just some face-obsessed fanatic?’
Considering that the filming order so far had been Kairos’s visual line—the Confession Trio (Goguryeo-Baekje-Silla)—it was certainly a plausible theory. And I’m not saying this just because they’re my members, but visuals like theirs aren’t easy to find these days.
‘But Lee Do-ha and Dan Ha-ru got good reactions too.’
Dan Ha-ru, who’d been praised as vitamin-like with his consistently bright laughter, was one thing, but seeing Lee Do-ha—who’d been stiff as a wooden stick—receive identical praise made it seem like it wasn’t simply a matter of facial features.
I mean, honestly, it’s good to receive a lot of praise, right? It feels like we’re doing well.
But then why have I been feeling instinctively uneasy about this situation since earlier…?
‘What if I’m the only one who gets torn apart…?’
It was because of my pathetic lack of photogenic qualities. Damn it.
‘I don’t know! I have no idea! I have absolutely no clue how to be photographed!’
For me, a profile photo was nothing more than tucking in my chin, opening my eyes wide, dropping my shoulders, and facing the camera straight on while the photographer’s aunt worked her advanced Photoshop skills to touch it up!
Even back when I was a trainee, I just kept dancing and singing—I never researched how to take good photos!
What am I supposed to do if I get praised like that in a continuous stream and then get hit with ice water when it’s my turn?!
And the photographer’s mindless barrage of compliments was really working on the members!
“This one here has a very dangerous gaze, you know? I think it would be great to maximize this precarious tension even more. Like the pitiful eyes of a wounded werewolf beneath a cliff where moonlight descends….”
“…Pardon?”
“Right now, that’s good! That’s it!”
“….”
Lee Yu-gun short-circuited from the delusion-fueled empathy-inducing rambling that was painful even to listen to.
And the photographer took advantage of that malfunction to gradually loosen Lee Yu-gun’s rigid atmosphere.
Though Lee Yu-gun himself didn’t seem to notice.
The younger members who’d been photographed earlier had struck poses like untamed colts under the barrage of praise.
‘What. Is he actually skilled?’
No, he was supposed to be sensitive. Prickly.
I began to have reasonable doubts about whether Ji Su-ho had misunderstood something.
“Okay! That’s a wrap! That was a satisfying final cut.”
“Next member, please come in!”
And just like that, it was finally my turn.
I stepped into the photo zone with a thoroughly stiffened face. The lights and reflectors trained on me still made my eyes hurt.
“Let me get a few test shots first. Please sit and face the camera straight ahead.”
Yeah, damn it.
Still, I’m someone with S-tier expressiveness. Something should come out if I just take the shot, right?
With a whatever-happens-happens mindset, I sat in the chair and stared at the camera ahead. Honestly, I had no idea what expression to make, so I just broke into a smile.
The flash went off a couple of times, and the photographer, who’d been watching the monitor, tilted his head slightly before looking at me and speaking.
“Hmm. Let’s start shooting. Relax, relax.”
“Haha. Yes. Relax….”
For the first time, the compliment-bombing photographer’s mouth produced something other than “fantastic!”—it was “relax….”
Instinctively sensing disaster, I smiled so brightly my cheekbones ached.
* * *
“One more time. Let’s go once more. This, something…. I need to bring out the natural inside Ha-jin.”
Natural? What’s that? How do I do that?
Feeling a similar sense of helplessness as when Nam Da-down had said “just look handsome” at some athletic festival, I exhaled shortly through my nose.
As the shoot progressed, my mind felt like it was turning into a blank slate.
To describe the sensation: it was like discovering today that I needed to take my high school graduation photos without any concept or preparation, and being suddenly placed in front of a flower-decorated campus. For the record, this is based on personal experience.
‘I’m genuinely terrible at this melancholic, brooding photographer vibe.’
When performing on stage or acting, it’s actually easier because the atmosphere and character I need to express are clearly defined. But profile shots required me to express ‘myself’—not a specific character.
And I was the worst at revealing and expressing my own self. I’d improved considerably by now, but packaging myself as something ‘attractive’ still felt incredibly awkward.
“Hmm. Should we take a quick break?”
Unable to watch any longer, the Photographer finally called for a break. My legs went limp, and I practically collapsed onto the wooden stool placed in the Photo Zone. I didn’t even have the energy to check the photos that had been taken so far.
“Ha-jin. Let me excuse?”
“Ah. Yes.”
The Photographer approached me, his English pronunciation far from native-like. I instinctively tried to stand, but he gestured for me to stay seated and positioned himself beside me. Then he held out a tablet with the photos he’d just taken uploaded to it.
“These are the photos of Ha-jin we’ve taken so far.”
“….”
“How do they feel to you?”
I slowly examined my images on the tablet screen.
A stiff, rigid face. Arms and legs wandering aimlessly. Awkward eye contact and clumsy posing.
“…Trying hard?”
“No, no. Of course you’re trying and making an effort. That’s not my point.”
What? Why did he suddenly sound like a native speaker?
Before I could even register the smooth English pronunciation, the Photographer slowly flipped through the photos and gently explained his point in a soft voice.
“There’s no Ha-jin in these.”
“….”
“Great poses, natural expressions—they’re all important. But what matters more is Ha-jin himself.”
After scrolling through several photos, the Photographer selected one and displayed it.
It was a shot of me monitoring the members’ photos and seriously sharing feedback with the Staff Members.
When did he take this?
“This is where Ha-jin is.”
“….”
“This is the Ha-jin I want to see. You don’t need to pretend to be cool or show off your charm while freely playing with the photos. Why are you trying to be like the other members? Ha-jin is Ha-jin.”
I am myself.
Those words resonated with me in a strange way.
“Show me Ha-jin. That’s all that matters.”
After leaving that final piece of advice, the Photographer turned back. At the same time, the shoot resumed.
I stood before the Photo Zone again and looked at the camera.
‘Just myself.’
The pressure to look good didn’t instantly vanish at those words.
My arms and legs still fumbled uncertainly, wandering through empty space, and I still couldn’t tell how my features were moving or what expression I was making.
But….
“Okay! That’s good right now! Good emotion!”
…at least I could avoid creaking and spiraling into panic like before.
‘What? He really is skilled.’
With such admiration ringing in my ears, I successfully completed my individual profile shoot.
* * *
“Alright, group photos next! Everyone, please change into your outfits and come back out~”
My individual profile shoot wrapped up inside that warm cocoon of praise.
For the group photos that would follow, we headed back to the Changing Room, but when I saw the outfits laid out before us, I had to step back outside.
“Manager, is this outfit correct?”
“Huh? Yeah, that’s right. Just put it on and come out.”
At her decisive nod, I reluctantly returned to the Changing Room. That’s when Yoo Gun picked up the hanger assigned to him and asked me.
“This is right, yeah?”
“Yeah. That’s what she said.”
“…Didn’t she say this was an official profile?”
“Well…. Anyway, this is what we’re wearing.”
At my resigned answer, Yoo Gun pulled out a fluffy animal onesie from his hanger with an air of acceptance. Nearby, Seo Ju-dan, already changed into his outfit, was checking everyone’s fit.
“Hyung, I think I’m a rabbit!”
“Me…. Am I a cat? Hyung, do I look like a cat?”
“Who knows. Well, people usually call me a baby king cat, but…. Maybe a tiger?”
“What about Tae-hyun hyung?”
“I look like a fox, I think?”
The group outfit we’d been given was the pinnacle of moe that every K-idol had to wear at least once—animal onesies.
I pulled out the wolf onesie hanging on the hanger with my name tag on it.
“Um…. Is this really how you’re supposed to wear it?”
At the sound of Lee Do-ha’s voice from the corner, I turned my head to see him struggling in a bear-shaped animal onesie, calling out to us with difficulty.
“Is this…. supposed to be this tight around the shoulders?”
“Is it okay that the ankles come up this high?”
Ah. The not-cute Yellow Team PTSD strikes again.
Right next to me, Yoo Gun, having given up on everything, carelessly threw on a dinosaur onesie. On the other side, Jeong Si-u was putting on a puppy onesie with curious eyes. It seemed they’d given him the most neutral option since there wasn’t an appropriate animal moe design for him.
Watching seven rough-looking men averaging around 180 centimeters in height struggling and grunting in soft, fluffy animal onesies, I thought to myself.
“…Is this really happening?”
Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me it’s a hidden camera prank. Please.
The path of a fierce idol was still far from easy.

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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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