Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 28

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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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28. Do You Want to Become Special? (6)
The world is profoundly unfair.
Unfair it certainly is. Even if performance arts transcend effort and enter the realm of innate talent, isn’t this taking it too far? This time, I stared at numbers that defied belief in an entirely different sense, and despair washed over me.
“Wow, Lee Do-ha’s composition at 34%? Thirty-four? Thirty… four…?”
Those insane compositions from earlier were only manifesting 34% of his actual talent? No wonder only the naturally gifted pursue art.
“This is such a luck-based nightmare game.”
[System Alert: Life is not kind to everyone.]
“The fact that even you’re saying that makes it so credible it pisses me off.”
The thought of competing against these monsters and placing in the top ten already gave me a headache. I pressed my throbbing temples firmly with my fingers.
I needed sugar at times like this, but the chocolate bar I’d had was devoured by Seo Tae-hyun and Dan Ha-ru during their late-night practice. I had no choice but to grab a box of tangerines that Ju Eun-chan had bought and return to the living room.
“Anyway, since we’re in the same group for this month’s evaluation, that works out.”
I kneaded a plump tangerine glowing with orange hues in one hand, peeled away its thin skin, and bit into the flesh inside—the sweet and tangy segments burst across my tongue in satisfying abundance.
Nodding at the sufficiently pleasant taste, I retrieved my charging phone and opened the messenger app. The group chat pinned at the top was still buzzing with conversation.
【Miro_Hyung_Gong Seok ‖ Still, I’m the hyung, so it feels a bit embarrassing.】
【Miro_Dongsaeng_Yun Tae-hee ‖ No way hyung haha】
【Miro_Dongsaeng_Yun Tae-hee ‖ Besides, hyung sings well anyway (thumbs up emoji)】
【Miro_Dongsaeng_Yun Tae-hee ‖ Please carry the main vocal part (praying emoji)】
【Miro_Dongsaeng_Kim Won-ho ‖ But do we really not need to prepare anything?】
【Miro_Dongsaeng_Kim Won-ho ‖ We just have to trust Ha-jin hyung, right?】
‘They sure are chatty.’
In the group chat we’d created to prepare for the month-end evaluation, the three of them—excluding Lee Do-ha and me—were chattering away endlessly. I could tell without reading each message one by one that their anxiety about the evaluation was driving it.
‘I should check their stats too.’
Since my skill proficiency wasn’t high enough yet, I could only learn their abilities by observing them directly. With the thought that I’d use my skill on the team members as soon as I arrived tomorrow, I left a short and concise notice in the still-buzzing group chat.
# Notice #
* Tomorrow’s evaluation meeting starts at 4 PM
* Everyone find stage references for what you like, what you’re good at, and what you want to do
* Everyone think about what position you want
※Anyone who reads this must reply confirming you’ve seen it (will call if you ignore)※
└ 【Miro_Dongsaeng_Yun Tae-hee ‖ Confirmed! (OK emoji)】
└ 【Miro_Dongsaeng_Yun Tae-hee ‖ Hyung, if we say what position we want, you’ll let us do it?】
└ 【Maze_Brother_Kim Won-ho ‖ ㅇㅋㅇㅋ】
└ 【Miro_Hyung_Gong Seok ‖ Got it, thanks Ha-jin】
Shortly after posting the notice, the “1” disappeared in an instant as my team members’ confirmations rolled in. I replied to Yun Tae-hee’s question about whether I’d let them have their desired position by saying I’d generally be open to it, then popped the remaining tangerine into my mouth.
└ 【Miro_Sameage_Lee Do-ha ‖ Confirmed.】
I liked how quickly everyone responded. After confirming that even Lee Do-ha, the last member, had replied, I immediately turned off the group chat notifications and tossed my phone aside. I’d search for stage references slowly anyway.
“Ha-jin hyung—, what are you doing?”
“Hyung, we’re back.”
As I lay there peeling tangerines, the front door opened—it seemed practice had ended—and the homeowner along with today’s guests appeared. Dan Ha-ru and Seo Tae-hyun, their faces flushed and warm from a fresh shower, entered the living room shaking out their damp hair with tired expressions before spotting me and stopping in their tracks.
“Hey, you’re eating alone!”
“Tangerines. Want some?”
“Of course.”
Watching Dan Ha-ru, who enjoyed eating just as much as I did, rush over and plop down beside me, I handed him a mandarin orange. Seo Tae-hyun, who had carefully set down the bag slung over one shoulder in the corner of the living room, observed the two of us before asking with an expression bordering on shock.
“…Hyung. Don’t tell me you ate all those peels yourself?”
“Yeah, why? Want one too?”
“…Did you happen to have a fight with the mandarin oranges?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The way you ate them, it’s like one of you shouldn’t exist in this world.”
…I, I didn’t eat that many.
“Why are you putting down someone who’s eating well?”
“Usually it’s not ‘someone’—it’s our kid, right?”
“Why are you putting down our kid who’s eating well?”
“Where is our kid?”
“Right in front of your eyes. Kang Ha-jin, twenty years old. At the age when you should eat well. Our mom’s son.”
“Dan Ha-ru, seventeen years old. Naturally at an age to eat well. Had one kimbap today.”
“…Yeah, okay. I’m sorry. Eat plenty.”
At Seo Tae-hyun’s dumbfounded expression, I brazenly pointed at myself with my thumb and thrust my chin up. They say you shouldn’t even drink cold water in front of kids, yet Dan Ha-ru, who had already quickly finished one mandarin orange, promptly drew a V-sign on his chin and echoed my words. Watching that ridiculous display, Seo Tae-hyun nodded with an expression of enlightenment.
And Ju Eun-chan, the owner of this place who had arrived last, observed me and Dan Ha-ru sprawled in an X-pose on the living room sofa surrounded by a heap of mandarin oranges.
“Please collect the mandarin peels carefully and dispose of them. Don’t let crumbs fall.”
“Yes.”
“Yep.”
…Well, since he’s the landlord. I’d better listen well.
* * *
I didn’t particularly dislike group projects.
I possessed the confidence that I could handle this assignment at least adequately on my own, while simultaneously excelling at finding the right roles for my teammates.
The reason I had turned my attention toward planning and production after quitting as an idol trainee in my first life was precisely because I understood this talent of mine. If there was a will to do something, I was quite skilled at grasping what a person could do and what they knew how to do, and putting it to use.
However.
When those teammates weren’t people I had chosen of my own volition, weren’t close to me, and especially when their work styles differed significantly, (not that I couldn’t do it) I tended to feel a little (very little) stressed.
Just like right now.
“So like, what if we throw in a double tumbling in the middle?”
“What about going with a ballad like this? I really love this song.”
“Nah, let’s just do ‘Love Affair,’ yeah? That was decent when we prepared it back then.”
“Oh. Or what about Sphere’s new release? ‘Hush’ or something?”
Every time a song that the group members had found appeared in the group chat overnight, I found myself rubbing my eyes wondering if these idiots were serious.
Still, these guys had been trainees longer than me, so I figured this was just a transitional phase of mindless song-hunting hell.
And when I actually saw those three clueless guys present those very songs at the monthly meeting, I thought to myself:
‘A ballad? Would Jeong Si-u and Dan Ha-ru get trampled?’
‘How are they planning to recycle something we used once in performance class?’
‘If you don’t have confidence you can do better than Sphere, shut up. Especially when you guys haven’t even graduated high school—how are you supposed to pull off that sexy suit concept?’
The words rose to the tip of my tongue, but I knew better. With guys like this, it was no good to crush their motivation from the start. After all, they’d spent the night grinding through ideas because they were determined to make this work, so it was better to humor them gently at first.
“Oh, you all really brought a lot of ideas. There are some decent ones too….”
“Hyung, I saw that video too. It uses masks and fire….”
“I went back and found that team’s performance from when they ranked first in the monthly evaluation.”
“Ah, I really want to do a ballad no matter what.”
Since I was playing along adequately, these three hopeless brothers showed no signs of stopping, spouting nonsense through the fourth and fifth verses. I needed to cut this off somehow.
Looking for a way to refresh the atmosphere and change the subject, Kang Ha-jin noticed Lee Do-ha, who had been silently observing us throughout the meeting, and spoke to him.
“Do-ha, what do you think? About what the guys brought?”
At Kang Ha-jin’s words, all eyes turned toward Lee Do-ha at once. Yeah, what about you, Do-ha? Your opinion matters too, the team members whispered.
And Lee Do-ha, who had been quietly listening the whole time, finally opened his mouth for the first time.
“I think.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re all mediocre.”
Ah, this guy’s not helpful at all.
“Uh, well―.”
“I think they’re all mediocre. The ideas you brought.”
‘What is this brakes-broken giant saying right now?’
Sensing the atmosphere turn awkward in an instant, Kang Ha-jin shot Lee Do-ha a desperate look to shut up, but Lee Do-ha—lacking in social awareness as much as Ju Eun-chan and reading situations as quickly as Seo Tae-hyun—didn’t stop.
“A ballad has a high chance of being compared to Jeong Si-u’s team. I saw hyung taking out the ballad song selection list yesterday.”
“….”
“High-difficulty acrobatics might look good, of course, but if you don’t synchronize properly in a short time frame, it’ll end up looking amateurish.”
“…Well, that’s….”
“We should exclude repertoires used in previous evaluations. I think it’s better to avoid Sphere’s comeback song too, since it’s a clear comparison point.”
‘This crazy bastard….’
We’re done for. This atmosphere is irreversible.
I quickly scanned the three hopeless brothers’ moods. Their motivation was visibly sinking in real-time, manifesting in various different ways.
First type. Pathetic rationalization.
“Still, finding this much in just one day isn’t bad, right? It doesn’t seem that mediocre.”
It was Kim Won-ho speaking, the third-year male idol who had brought a performance worthy of what you’d see at a year-end stage with a sharp blade of enthusiasm.
Second type. Pathetic self-destruction.
“…Yeah, everyone’s probably lacking in their database, you know…. Ah, I really was trying to search harder. Actually, the more I searched, the more confused I got. Like, these concepts and stuff….”
It was Gong Seok’s excuse, having searched through every high-scoring Miro monthly evaluation stage in history.
Third type. Pathetic rebellion.
“What have you been doing, hyung? You really think it’s mediocre to just say everything’s bad without any opinions?”
At Yun Tae-hee’s absurd rhyme—the ballad copycat—Lee Do-ha’s brow furrowed.
“You should share what you’ve prepared too so it’s fair.”
It was quite a crude tone and attitude, but it wasn’t wrong. In group projects, a free-rider is worse than nothing. Lee Do-ha seemed to agree, nodding his head. He quietly pulled out his phone.
“Well, I.”
“….”
“Wrote a song.”
…A cheat code from the start?
At his blunt statement, Yun Tae-hee showed a momentarily broken reaction. His lips trembled before he asked in a voice of disbelief.
“So you’re saying you wrote this song before, hyung?”
“No, I wrote it.”
“So you wrote it beforehand.”
“No, I wrote it fresh.”
“…Yesterday?”
“Yeah, at dawn.”
‘What the hell is this guy doing?’
When I’d burst into his Practice Room yesterday, it was already well past evening. He hadn’t mentioned any new composition while we were together, so it had to be written after that—meaning he’d actually produced a beat in a single night?
‘I wish all these talented bastards would just disappear.’
While everyone else gasped in astonishment, Lee Do-ha alone maintained his composure and played the new track from his phone.
It began with a slow, heavy electronic bass and drums, layered with sharp string instruments stacking harmonies one by one.
A melody-driven pop that made anyone see the intent to emphasize vocals. (The guide vocal was Lee Do-ha’s voice drenched in auto-tune) The synth sound that erupted at appropriate moments and the buildup timed perfectly—it was, in other words, precisely ‘adequate’.
‘The kind of difficulty level that lets guys who are mediocre at both dancing and singing pull it off with decent flair.’
So Lee Do-ha had given it some thought after all. About the skill level of these group members. Including his own dancing ability, presumably.
Sure enough, the expressions of the group members, which had been darkened, brightened like a sunrise breaking over a mountain peak.
“I think it’s great!”
“The song’s really well written. When you wrote this chorus, were you thinking of someone specific? You thought about the parts too, right?”
“What, hyung, if you were hiding such a secret weapon, you should’ve told us from the start!”
The moment I thought we could pull this off, they started talking more—and I’ve never seen anyone easier to read than these guys. If they’re like this after debut, what are we going to do?
‘Well, the song is definitely good.’
Since Lee Do-ha wrote it, there’s no way it could fail. With that song, we’d easily pass this month’s evaluation.
And this time too, the real problem was that I had absolutely no intention of letting it slide.
“Sorry, but.”
“…?”
“We’re not using this song for our monthly evaluation.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
I’m betting my whole life on this, guys. Don’t go looking for shortcuts.

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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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