Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 287

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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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287. Miro is Miro (3)
‘That moment’ arrived just as Kairos’s “Over the Night (Mad Luv Ver.)” stage was smoothly racing toward its conclusion.
With a far more dramatic arrangement than the original that added narrative weight, it came right after Lee Do-ha—bearing wound makeup on one eye—and Lee Yu-gun—who had deliberately smudged his lipstick by rubbing it with his hand—exchanged raps as if about to clash with each other.
Meeting the bitterly blue morning
A dreamlike memory, letting me breathe
After the bridge section for the third verse, a brief resting part passed through with Eun-chan and Tae-hyun’s vocal tones, and now came the high-note harmony part between Ha-jin and Si-woo that had also generated significant buzz in the original.
Following the original’s choreography, Ha-jin and Si-woo faced each other and slowly walked toward the front of the stage.
Wait for me
Right now, I’m coming to you
– They absolutely killed the live vocals
– The sound’s piercing right through the mic lol
– This is it
The two handled the harmony as smoothly as always.
Or so I thought.
– Did Si-woo level up his vocals…?
– He’s really riding the edge
– I’m getting anxious wondering if you guys are retiring after this year
Not until they delivered a three-tier ad-lib high note that didn’t exist in the original, riding the relentless MR.
We running,
Running Over the Lonely Night
The live was so viscerally present that even from the front row of the master bedroom, you could feel the climax building higher and higher. Tae-hyun’s refreshing vocal tone burst through between Ha-jin and Si-woo’s high notes.
Since it was originally a part for Ha-ru, another main vocalist, the Destiny fans were puzzled, but that confusion was quickly resolved.
– Kairos’s vocal endurance show is insane
Once Ha-jin and Si-woo’s ad-libs ended, Ha-ru—the member with the highest vocal range—took up that baton and unleashed a consecutive four-tier high note.
– A seven-tier high note? We can do that in our song.
– …A seven-tier high note?
– You don’t trust the members? You can do it, right, Sparkle?
– …Me?
– No, wait. Then who does Ha-ru’s part? The third verse chorus is originally Ha-ru’s.
– Yeah. Don’t worry. You and Eun-chan are doing it.
– …Us?
– Just trust us. Was I lying?
– If I trust you twice, we’re seriously phoning in this stage…
– …
– Hyung, if you light up your eyes in this part, doesn’t that make me anxious…?
It was indeed a work of Kang Ha-jin, who had deliberately extracted every ounce of marrow from his members and greased up the super-express bus.
The members had burned through their vocal cords for this year-end stage after the leader casually expressed hurt that they didn’t trust him, but the result was magnificent.
We will ultimately
Make it through this night
With their heads bowed in a diagonal line, the members held their hands behind their backs with one hand while blowing kisses with the other as if wishing for good fortune, and the song ended.
Drenched in tight-fitting suits and executing intense choreography, the members’ faces glistened with sweat and their hair hung slightly damp and disheveled—yet somehow it only added to the narrative of the stage, as if even that had been a calculated effect.
“Every time I watch, I think… there’s something about you guys that really ignites people’s fighting spirit. Our youngest members.”
Nam Da-down spoke with a tone of bewilderment as he loosened up in the spacious waiting room assigned to them, observing yet another breakthrough the juniors had discovered.
The irony was that despite his complaining posture—leaning back—there wasn’t a trace of actual tension in his expression.
“If they perform that well, what are we supposed to do next?”
“We just do our thing. What else can we do?”
“The juniors just showed us firsthand what ‘Miro is like,’ so we need to perform twice as well, don’t we? Ugh, the pressure.”
“You really don’t look pressured at all, hyung.”
Seo Tae-il, listening to the exchange between Nam Da-down and Kwon Sang-rok, let out a soft laugh and set down his phone, muttering to himself.
“…Yeah. If they’re that desperate, they’ll burn out soon.”
Is it just the passion of a newly debuted group, or…?
“Is there a separate reason they have to be so impatient?”
“…? What did you just say?”
“Oh. Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
Well, if something comes up, they’ll come find me anyway.
Recalling Ha-jin’s mental state, which seemed somewhat more resilient than before, Tae-il quickly dispersed the thought. The juniors had admirably completed their mission; now it was time for the seniors to set an example.
* * *
It was over.
“Wow, I thought I’d die from the heat…”
The moment we entered the waiting room, the members were all removing their jackets and loosening their ties as if they’d made a pact. Sweat was pouring down like rain, and it felt exactly like being back in the military during summer survival training…
‘Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.’
Quickly brushing away memories I never wanted to recall, I wiped my neck and arms with the cold towel the managers had prepared. I’d already stripped off the cumbersome suit except for the black sleeveless shirt underneath.
“If I… perform in a suit again next time… I won’t be Kang anymore, I’ll be a dog…”
“That’s a unique way to say you’ll become a dog, hyung…”
Ju Eun-chan, who had collapsed onto the mat spread across the waiting room floor thanks to the managers clearing the space, muttered in a voice barely conscious. Too exhausted to respond, I just nodded vaguely with half-closed eyes blinking.
‘Did I push too hard trying to beat Lanion once…?’
As I thought about the year-end schedule lined up ahead and the performances to match, my head suddenly started pounding.
I should’ve just gotten by with some decent dance moves and flashy arrangements…
Belated regret washed over me, but there was no taking it back now.
“You guys, you did great, you really did great. Seriously, you all performed amazingly.”
Ji Su-ho distributed protein bars and ice water with a satisfied smile. As I brought the ice water to my throat, which had been overworked all day, and chewed on the chocolate protein bar, I finally felt some energy returning.
While the members spread out to cool down and catch their breath, Ji Su-ho continued with the announcements.
“Listen up while you rest. Our stage is done, and later Tae-hyun and Yu-gun have that nineteen-year-old special stage, right? So once you catch your breath, you need to go change. The rest of you have nothing until the ending, so let’s eat the dinner boxes we missed earlier.”
“What’s on the menu today…?”
“That chili assorted set you guys like and fish cake soup.”
“Yes!”
I pumped my fist in satisfaction at the appetizing dinner menu, and Ji Su-ho laughed at my reaction, continuing with what he had to say.
“Oh, and… you know how all the performers come out for the ending song, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s apparently a microphone issue, so we’ll probably get fake mics. Even if you sing your hearts out, your voices won’t go on air, so just lip-sync and save your throats. We’ve got a long road ahead, you know?”
“Yes.”
That was welcome news to hear.
The moment I saw Kwon Wook handing me a lunchbox, I shot up from my seat with all the strength I could muster. Even if I felt like I was dying of exhaustion, I still had to eat.
I snapped apart the wooden chopsticks and poured chili sauce over the appetizing assorted fried food, then asked Ji Su-ho.
“By the way, what was that ending song again? I heard it back then, but I can’t remember….”
“‘Everything Will Be Okay’ by White Bird Band.”
The moment I heard the title, the lyrics naturally flowed from my lips.
I realized why it felt so familiar—it was a song my mother loved and listened to often.
“Ah, I sing this one really well too…. Since my mom absolutely loves this song, she’d be thrilled if I sang it, but….”
Of all things, I’d won a fake microphone—what a shame.
Along with a voice that didn’t sound regretful at all, even to my own ears, I quickly grabbed a piece of chili-glazed pork that had cooled down but still tasted delicious.
* * *
Before our stage, time crawled at a snail’s pace, but the moment ours ended, everyone else’s flew by in a flash. Believer’s stage—which we didn’t even need to worry about anymore—went past, along with Winter Tail, whom we’d gotten close to during Touch High, and various other renowned male and female idols’ performances.
To be honest, it would be a lie to say every single one left a deep impression, but there was one group that absolutely stood out.
“Wow….”
“Whoa….”
It was Upia, the most senior group at this year’s music festival with thirteen years under their belt, and just a few weeks away from their fourteenth.
“Those guys aren’t actually fish, are they? They’ve got gills on their backs instead of lungs.”
No matter how many times I watched, their stage presence, command of the crowd, and live vocal skills only inspired awe.
We didn’t even need to try competing with Lanion—just watching those guys perform made it clear that people would naturally think, ‘Right, there’s really no comparison to Lanion.’
“Okay, final one~”
“Ending, ending!”
“Man, I seriously want to hit up a sauna. I’m dead serious.”
“…Early morning today?”
“Early…?”
“Stop talking nonsense and get up there—you’re holding up the line.”
With Upia’s performance done, all that was left was for every performer to take the stage and sing the ending song, and our first year-end stage would truly be over.
There were so many people, but the staircase space was limited, so voices calling out that they’d lost members rang out from all directions. I thought our team had gathered relatively well, but once we got up there, I realized we were missing one person.
“Where did Ju Eun-chan go?”
“Wasn’t he coming with you?”
“No? Wasn’t he with Do-ha?”
“I thought he was with Ha-ru.”
“Wait, wasn’t Eun-chan next to Si-woo earlier?”
“I didn’t see him. Didn’t Tae-hyun keep an eye on him?”
“I was bringing him along but lost him in the middle. He’ll find his way up. You tall guys, stand on your tiptoes so Eun-chan can see you.”
Looking at the prompter, it seemed the final New Year’s greeting VCR was still being broadcast.
I twirled the fake hand microphone with no power—the one the sound director had handed me before we came up—in my hand and glanced sideways at the situation on stage. Seeing performers still coming up from various spots, Ju Eun-chan was probably somewhere in that chaotic crowd.
Well, anyway, since we don’t have any parts, we just need to find him before the song ends.
“Alright, we’re going live soon. MCs, stand by!”
“Performers, please focus!”
When this many singers took the stage at once, the broadcasting station often couldn’t provide in-ear monitors to everyone.
So typically, the station would designate a few members known for their vocal prowess and live performance skills, giving microphones and in-ears only to them—and it stung a little that our group wasn’t among those select few.
“They won’t give us a mic… I’m confident we could absolutely kill it.”
“I asked around earlier, and apparently Upia’s seniors didn’t get one either. Looks like the whole agency didn’t get assigned any.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Look over there. It’s not Han-sol’s senior holding the mic—it’s Ji-nu’s senior. And Ji-nu’s a rapper.”
Following Seo Tae-hyun’s gaze toward Upia ahead of us, I could see that Yoon Ji-nu—someone with no connection to singing whatsoever—was holding the microphone and laughing along with the others.
‘So Miro really is on bad terms with QBS?’
I was pondering what kind of grudge could warrant such blatant discrimination when—
Ju Eun-chan, who seemed to have lost the members and was half-panicking, came rushing toward us through the crowd of singers.
“There you are. Did our sixth member find the group okay?”
“I just got a proper taste of what ‘human Miro’ really means…”
As we chuckled at Ju Eun-chan’s hollow expression, the VCR ended and the live broadcast resumed.
The MCs delivered their closing remarks followed by a light New Year’s greeting, and soon the backing track for the ending began. Without in-ear monitors, I relied on the basic monitor speakers installed on stage and the singers beside me, but I got the gist of it.
“Oh, straighten your shoulders, let your dreams ride the wind~”
Humming the lyrics that flowed naturally without needing the prompter, my excitement began building. The lyrics were so hopeful and the melody so uplifting—it was exactly my style.
Today’s stage went well, and unable to contain my excitement, I grabbed the fake microphone and launched into a full performance with exaggerated gestures.
“Don’t! Give! Up↗! Everything will be okay↘!”
“Why does he always do this…”
Seo Tae-hyun, who had the highest empathy sensitivity to these situations, was already covering his face in embarrassment, but I remained undeterred.
“Still waiting! For you! Believe in a wonderful future!”
Was I embarrassed?
Endure it.
I had absolutely zero intention of wasting this rare free karaoke opportunity—not even a single hair’s worth of hesitation like the QBS entertainment director might have.
In other words, zero.

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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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