Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 225

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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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225. AN UNEXPECTED OUTING (1)
—You’re going to pay for the chicken, right? I spent a lot of money.
Leaving me frozen in place, Seo Tae-il demanded his rights with the confidence of a creditor hounding a debtor. I covered my mouth with my hand and asked carefully, worried someone might overhear.
“Was that not a gift but a debt? Senior, I’m sorry, but I think I need to look into illegal debt collection and fraud charges as well. Could you recommend a law firm soon?”
—You’re trying to find me a law firm to sue you with?
“My mom always said you should ask someone who knows about these things well.”
At that, Seo Tae-il’s laughter grew even louder.
He disturbs my peace and then laughs? He finds this funny?
I was exasperated, but as always, I kept it to myself and politely asked for clarification.
“If it’s a concert guest… you’re talking about the encore concert you’re doing this time, right?”
—Yeah. You already knew? We always invite guests whenever we have a concert and—
(Wait!? Little Tae-il!? Our little red-hooded fairy boy!? Are you talking to Ha-jin right now? Are you going to tell him? What? Let me talk to him too. Give me the phone. I want to—!)
Click.
“Oh my.”
My social survival instincts, scarred by Nam Da-down PTSD, had won out.
The moment I heard Nam Da-down’s voice, I instinctively hung up. Realizing what I’d done, I hurriedly called back, and before long, Seo Tae-il’s voice came through again.
—Hello?
“Um, I was… at the hospital, so the call got cut off for a moment….”
—Ah, it’s fine, it’s fine. Da-down just grabbed the phone from me.
“Ah, yes.”
At his reassuring tone, as if he already understood everything, I let out a sigh of relief without meaning to.
I could faintly hear banging on a door and Nam Da-down’s voice shouting through the phone, but I decided to ignore it.
—Anyway, we always invite a guest to perform when we transition from part one to part two of the concert. About 10 minutes?
“…The guest performs for 10 minutes?”
—Well, considering our concert’s runtime, it’s not that long, is it?
True. Yupia concerts were famous for their long runtimes and numerous encores.
It seemed that aside from Nam Da-down, the members didn’t really pursue other entertainment activities, focusing solely on performances and album releases, which made concerts one of their main content pillars.
‘A concert… that kind of experience would definitely be helpful if I went through with it.’
I hesitated for a moment.
It wasn’t unheard of for junior idols to perform as guests at senior idol concerts, but often the drawbacks outweighed the benefits.
It felt similar to when I won first place on a music broadcast instead of Yupia.
While it might be entertaining for my group’s fans to watch them dote on a junior, there would definitely be quite a few fans who couldn’t accept having a 10-minute junior idol showcase inserted into a concert they paid for to see the main act.
Seo Tae-il, as if to put my concerns to rest, added cheerfully.
—By the way, the Endway kids performed as guests right after their debut, and I’ve already discussed it roughly with the company, so you just need to give the okay.
‘You should have mentioned first that this was an auto-accept quest with only a YES option. I wasted time worrying about it.’
That’s what I wanted to say back, but the last shred of my social survival instinct grabbed me by the collar, insisting that I not get cheeky with such a towering senior.
This guy can’t even grab Dan Ha-ru by the collar when told to, but he only shows up and causes a fuss at times like these.
“Yes, then I’ll prepare hard for it.”
—Really? You’re actually going to do it?
“…Can I refuse?”
“Of course not~ Then I’ll let Su-ho know you’re handling it. Thanks!”
“Yes, go ahead.”
True to form for a distant relative, Seo Tae-il hung up with an energetic voice as crisp as Seo Tae-hyun’s. I found myself bowing respectfully to Seo Tae-il, who wasn’t even in front of me, before realizing I was still on the call. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat awkwardly and straightened my posture.
I wondered when the habits carved into my soul from my days as the youngest assistant director would finally fade away.
“….”
As I spoke casually, fragments of my twenty-nine-year-old self—now barely a whisper of memory—suddenly shattered across my vision like broken glass.
If I told that Kang Ha-jin from back then that I would later debut and perform as a guest on a Upia concert stage, what would he have said?
Lost in that thought, my chin resting in my palm, I noticed someone walking toward me from far down the hallway. Wondering if it might be Ji Su-ho, I turned my head to see their face, but suddenly vivid blue windows obscured my vision with startling force.
[A connection from the Fixed Returner’s past timeline has been detected.]
[This individual has been classified as a risk factor that could trigger the Fixed Returner’s ‘trauma (burnout)’.]
[Mental Care System is activating.]
[Processing….]
[Processing….]
[【Memory Suppression】 is activating for mental care.]
“…?”
What was I just doing?
Thinking a massive alarm had gone off, I opened the system notification window, but it only showed the Quest update list I’d checked earlier.
In the meantime, Ji Su-ho, who had finished his checkup, prescriptions, and payment, came striding toward me from beyond the hallway.
“Ha-jin, all done. Let’s go.”
“He’s perfectly healthy, right?”
“…Yeah. So healthy the doctor was surprised. He said it’s been a while since he’s seen a patient this healthy in the past three years.”
“See? I told you so.”
I laughed and stood up, and Ji Su-ho closed his mouth with a look like he had plenty to say, then let out a sigh. Still, seeming relieved that there was nothing wrong with my body, some color had returned to Ji Su-ho’s face, which had been looking pale.
And so, I left the hospital with Ji Su-ho.
The strange sense of déjà vu and odd feeling I’d experienced a few minutes ago had been completely forgotten.
* * *
“Want me to drop you at the Dormitory? Do-ha and Tae-hyun said they went to the Company.”
“Lee Do-ha is working on the next comeback song draft… and Tae-hyun probably went for vocal training? It’s such a precious day off, but those two are really something.”
“What about you, Ha-jin? With tomorrow’s schedule, it’ll be tough to go home, so the Dormitory for now?”
At Ji Su-ho’s question about my destination, I paused to think.
The quiet weekday streets and a rare day off I’d just received.
Thanks to Seo Tae-hyun’s fussing about people recognizing me, I was fully armed with a hat, glasses, a mask, and a scarf.
The ‘thing’ I’d been thinking about throughout the music broadcast activities seemed like today was the perfect opportunity to finally do it.
“Executive Director, how do I look right now?”
“Like an idol who’s suited up perfectly because they’re worried about being recognized.”
“Right? A scarf in October, of all things….”
I unwound the scarf that had been uncomfortably wrapped around me and left it on the passenger seat, gathered my things, and closed the car door again. Then, as if asking what I was doing, I lowered the passenger window and told Ji Su-ho where I was headed.
“I’ll go out and have some fun for a bit since I’m already out. Do some shopping, get some fresh air.”
“Where are you going? Well, since it’s you, I’m not too worried, but still….”
“I’m not doing anything weird. I’ll just stop by somewhere real quick and head to the Company soon. I’ll take a taxi when I go to the Company.”
Ji Su-ho stared at me for a moment, then nodded as if he’d confirmed there was no hidden agenda behind my expression.
‘The company atmosphere really is free, so it’s comfortable.’
‘If someone gets anxious when given freedom, they shouldn’t debut in the first place’—that was the only business philosophy Han Se-won, the representative of Miro, truly held. Perhaps because of this, Miro’s training and self-management were far more relaxed compared to other idol companies.
In exchange, one had to bear the responsibility that came with it.
‘Still, the fact that guys like Shin Kyung-ho managed to survive is impressive in many ways.’
In that brief moment, while I was contemplating the pitfalls of laissez-faire management and the freedom and responsibility a democratic citizen should possess, Ji Su-ho descended from the driver’s seat and approached me.
“…? Why, why are you doing this?”
“….”
Standing before me, Ji Su-ho silently pressed a card into my hand—his own credit card bearing his name in three characters.
“You haven’t even settled accounts yet, so what money were you planning to shop with? Use this to get some fresh air, take taxis. Since it’s a personal card, you don’t need to worry about receipts, so use it freely. Just let me know right away when you head to the company or the dormitory.”
“Can I start calling you hyung from today? Su-ho hyung, I’ll use this card well. Steel yourself.”
“Ugh, anyway.”
Ji Su-ho laughed like a male lead from a 2000s drama, tapped my shoulder twice, and returned to the driver’s seat. I leaned slightly out the still-open passenger window and waved the card.
“Can I really use this? Eat delicious food, buy beef to feed the members?”
“Yeah~”
“Wow, that’s insane. So you have to be this generous to become an Executive Director? That’s so cool.”
“Pull your head back before I close the window. If I catch you doing anything weird, you’re getting scolded, got it?”
“Don’t worry, let’s get going, hyung.”
Score—I got the card.
I pulled my body back from the window and waved, and Ji Su-ho’s car smoothly exited the parking lot.
Noticing that lunchtime was approaching, I set off toward today’s destination with a light heart.
* * *
A few hours later, evening somewhere.
Kim Ma-kki, filling each day with provocation and chaos as always.
She bit her nails, bored by the recent lull in entertainment industry news.
‘This is so fucking boring.’
Searching for something new to make this dull day enjoyable, she refreshed communities and SNS repeatedly, and her gaze settled on an open messenger chatroom.
An open chat she’d stumbled upon by chance recently—an anonymous chatroom mainly used by idol stalkers and gossip-mongers like herself to share information.
I’m unable to provide a reliable translation for this text. It appears to contain corrupted characters, encoding errors, or non-standard formatting that makes it impossible to accurately interpret the Korean content.
K2ㄹㅅ ㄲㅊㅇ refers to Kairos Kang Ha-jin, the group name is a code word to prepare for possible accusations, and ㄲㅊㅇ means gangchung, and was a direct application of the derogatory term he first used to call Kang Ha-jin ‘Gao-chung’.
Kim Ma-kki felt a subtle thrill seeing people use the term she’d created, and she read through the anonymous chatroom conversation that had been posted hours earlier.
【Zz2049 ‖ This bastard, I followed him to the hospital this morning but then he disappeared】
【Leon ‖ Hospital? Is Ddochi sick? His activity’s been off lolololol】
【Zz2049 ‖ While I was hiding in the dorm, I saw a car moving so I followed it? It was a hospital somewhere. It felt like I was getting a test done far away, but I couldn’t really hear the dust. The company’s employees have a good sense of humor, so they notice everything when they get close.】
The story that began with the rumor “Kang Ha-jin came to the hospital because he’s sick” soon led to speculation about his next destination.

I have a lot of female friends, haha.
I’m so stressed out—what really pisses me off is when people make those faces. Not like those stuck-up types, but those hyper, bouncy kids are the worst.
Derogatory terms for Jeong Si-u and Seo Tae-hyun, along with malicious remarks without basis or evidence, filled the chat.
Yet in Kim Ma-kki’s heart as she read the messages, there wasn’t even a shred of remorse or guilt.
To him, idols were nothing more than “entertainment”—fleeting digital phantoms he’d never encounter in real life.
They were shameless creatures who, blessed with nothing but a pretty face in their youth, earned money most people would never touch in a lifetime.
The anonymous world beyond the screen was merely “text” to fill the void of a single day—nothing more, nothing less.
Scrolling further, he spotted someone who’d uploaded Kang Ha-jin’s current whereabouts.
【Miko ‖ (Photo of Ha-jin watching street busking)】
【Miko ‖ LMAOOO that bouncy bastard is in Hongdae rn】

【Zz2049 ‖ Hongdae? Oh sh*t should I call a taxi?? Will he still be there????】
A rookie idol had appeared in Hongdae alone on a golden day off, without a manager in sight.
Sensing this could become juicy gossip, Kim Ma-kki quickly scrolled down to the most recent messages.
Those who’d missed his location were now hurling insults and abuse at Ha-jin.
Then, a single photograph uploaded by someone else ignited a new spark.
【Leon ‖ (Photo)】
【Leon ‖ (Video)】
【Leon ‖ Isn’t that the bouncy bastard?】
【Leon ‖ It’s blurry but that red hair and facial features are dead-on, right?】
【Leon ‖ Is this f***ing crazy?】
The location was some dark club.
The video appeared to be a screenshot from chaotic footage, the image quality degraded and features blurred beyond clear recognition. Yet it was unmistakably a figure with red hair resembling Ha-jin, clutching a bottle of alcohol in one hand, surrounded by people and dancing.
Noticing the black turtleneck matched the one from the Hongdae sighting, Kim Ma-kki hastily saved the photo.
“…Insane. F***ing insane.”
She couldn’t keep this delicious story to herself.
Kim Ma-kki’s fingers flew across the screen faster than ever.

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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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