Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 30

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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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30. First Month-End Evaluation (2)
“Finally!”
Yun Tae-hee, who had been waiting for the song more eagerly than anyone (having grown bored with the boost camp), reacted first. He immediately squirmed like a beast before food, demanding I play it without delay.
‘There’s no reason to drag this out.’
I didn’t hesitate and played the audio file Lee Do-ha had sent me early yesterday morning. Soon, the completed work that Lee Do-ha had poured his body and soul into for an entire week flowed through the speaker connected to my phone.
Ooh―, Woah―
The string instruments that had been the main instrument remained, but their usage changed. The main melody that the original strings had played transformed into a powerful, rough group chant. The strings that Lee Do-ha had ambitiously built up now supported the sub-lines that would enrich the song and filled the empty spaces in the beat.
Begin―, our brilliant scenario
Knight tearing through the night, those who yearned for a new morning onto the streets
“Huh? This voice…”
The moment the song started, Yun Tae-hee, who had a keen ear, reacted. This voice… it’s not Do-ha hyung? He tilted his head in confusion, then looked at me with startled eyes.
“Did you sing this, hyung?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously? You sang it?”
“…That was the condition for the arrangement.”
I nodded, thinking of Lee Do-ha, who was probably sleeping soundly by now. On the day of the first month-end evaluation meeting, he had grabbed me as I came out for water while working intensely in his personal studio, and the first thing he said was that.
-I can’t sing it.
-Huh?
-I have something in mind, but… I can’t pull it off myself. So I’d like you to do the guide vocal.
-…Ah, well. Sure. Not Gong Seok hyung?
-No. Not him.
He was incredibly firm about it. He looked at me with such unwavering conviction, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, that I just agreed right there. It was my first time doing a guide vocal, and it turned out to be quite fun.
“Wow… the song is really good.”
“I’ve never heard Do-ha hyung make such an intense song before.”
“Right? It’s really good.”
As the song ended, the three hopeless brothers (I still hadn’t found a replacement term for them) applauded and showered it with praise. And rightfully so—it wasn’t because I had touched it up, but because the song was objectively excellent. On top of that, Lee Do-ha’s composition skill had increased by about 5% from making this song.
‘5% in a week… is that even a possible number?’
There seemed to be separate criteria for these increases as well, but I’d set that aside for now.
“Oh, there’s Do-ha hyung!”
Just as I was about to play the song once more to learn the melody, the Practice Room door opened and Lee Do-ha shuffled in, looking like he hadn’t fully woken up yet.
‘No matter how I look at it, he’s like a bear cub waking from hibernation.’
“Hey, Do-ha! You did great work.”
“Our ace, as expected!”
“You could’ve slept more.”
“It’s fine.”
The guy, who had lost weight from pulling all-nighters, sat down among the team members. I’d told him to skip practice today and just get some rest… this guy really is a workaholic.
“So we’re practicing with this song now?”
“But we don’t have choreography yet, do we?”
Gong Seok and Yun Tae-hee, who had been reading the lyrics intently, raised the concern. The anxious expression Gong Seok had shown me earlier darkened again. We’d already wasted a week on the song, and he was probably terrified that as the main vocalist, he’d end up having to learn the choreography in just three days.
And that would absolutely never happen.
“The choreography is done.”
“Huh? Already?”
I patted Kim Won-ho’s back, who sat beside me with an embarrassed expression, leaving behind two people with shocked expressions (or rather, three people if you counted Lee Do-ha, who couldn’t open his eyes but was clearly surprised).
[Kim Won-ho (Affiliation: Miro)]
Vocals: 89% (Rap 34%)
Dance: 62%
Expression: 92%
Special: Choreography Creation (86%)
Appeal Points:
‘A TO Z’
-Fast Learning Ability
‘Special. Choreography Creation 86%? I’d be an idiot not to use this.’
“Our Won-ho has already finished composing it all. Come on, give him a hand.”
“Haha… Sorry for not mentioning it earlier. Ha-jin hyung told me not to say anything.”
“Really? When? We’ve been practicing together the whole time.”
“That morning and after practice at night, bit by bit… just whenever I had spare time. There’s still some of the back part left.”
Kim Won-ho, unaccustomed to this atmosphere of praise flowing around him, showed his discomfort and awkwardness with his entire body. Even though he said that, he’d been preparing since the day Lee Do-ha delivered the first guide in three days as promised, so he’d worked just as hard as Lee Do-ha.
I let Lee Do-ha and Kim Won-ho receive all the praise they deserved, and only spoke again once the atmosphere had settled somewhat.
“So, now that we have the choreography Won-ho created, let’s go through the song once more. While looking at the lyrics sheet, mark the parts you want to do or can’t do with a line. I’ll use that as reference.”
“Are you actually going to take our input this time? Last time, all the rappers we found got rejected.”
“Lee Do-ha explained why they were rejected pretty thoroughly that day, didn’t he?”
“…Tch.”
Brushing off Yun Tae-hee’s petty remark, I found the choreography guide video shot this morning with the completed song on the monitor tablet PC and played it.
“….”
The choreography had no major peculiarities. Since I couldn’t express the entire composition alone, we filmed it with the two of us—Kim Won-ho dancing the part for his assigned section, and me dancing for the parts that weren’t his.
And inevitably, there was a section where both of us had to dance the same sequence.
“Ah, the dance break.”
“This part won’t be danced by everyone. The main vocalist will be off to the side improvising ad-libs, so only two of the remaining four will dance this.”
Since Lee Do-ha had set this song’s concept to feel like a “rebellion of losers,” there had to be at least one performance explosive enough to burst at the climax. No matter how hard Kim Won-ho and I tried to adjust the dance break difficulty, this part just wouldn’t get easier.
‘I didn’t really want to compromise on this anyway.’
And I watched their eyes moving rapidly again. Obviously, everyone was wondering who would do that high-difficulty acrobatic performance. All eyes naturally turned toward Kim Won-ho.
“Ah, I can’t do it. The buildup right before that is my part.”
“….”
“Ha-jin hyung said he’d give me exactly one solo part in exchange for helping with the choreography.”
At that, all eyes turned back to me. Right, I’m the one who danced it with him.
“I can’t either. My height doesn’t match with Yun Tae-hee’s.”
“Ah, so I’m automatically one of them?”
“Gong Seok can’t do it.”
“Wait, but then….”
With only five people in the group, three were already out and one was confirmed. All eyes naturally turned toward the owner of the remaining spot.
The youngest yet unnecessarily tall Yun Tae-hee, and someone with absolutely zero chance of claiming the main vocal position.
“…D-Do-ha hyung?”
“…Me?”
[System Alert: The system expresses considerable worry and concern.]
“Do-ha.”
“….”
“Have you heard of the bootcamp from hell?”
Lee Do-ha. Dance break winner!
* * *
The exclusive dormitory used by Miro trainees.
Jeong Si-u waited for all the other trainees to finish using the restroom before taking his shower last, and when he emerged, he was somewhat surprised to find Lee Do-ha sitting on the living room sofa rather than in his personal practice room.
“….”
“What are you thinking so deeply about?”
Jeong Si-u had been about to pass by while drying his hair with a towel, but noticing Lee Do-ha’s unusually grave expression, he asked instead. Lee Do-ha was intently reviewing something on a personal tablet.
“…Ah, it’s the monthly practice video.”
“Ah, I see. Your group was fun to watch. Kang Ha-jin? You know, the one your Team Leader brought in.”
Do-ha nodded at Si-u’s words and added a comment.
“He’s doing a dance break.”
“Ah, really? …What?”
Jeong Si-u, who had been slowly drying his hair while turning his head away to avoid getting water on Lee Do-ha, froze at those words. It was shocking enough that even someone as unflappable as Si-u didn’t notice the towel slipping from his hands.
Lee Do-ha doing a dance break—not composition, not producing, not rap… what exactly?
“A dance break.”
“Group?”
“No. Not a solo… it’s with two people.”
“With who?”
“Yun Tae-hee.”
“…Why would you two do a dance break together? Did Kim Won-ho break his leg or something?”
Unlike Do-ha, who had little interaction with the general trainees, Si-u—who was familiar with most of Miro’s trainees—asked in disbelief. However, when Do-ha quietly shook his head with an equally incredulous expression, Si-u didn’t press further. He instinctively sensed that digging deeper would yield nothing worthwhile.
Instead, his curiosity shifted in another direction.
“Kang Ha-jin, right? Your group leader.”
“Yes.”
Kang Ha-jin. The subject of rumors that had stirred up the company since his arrival.
The hot topic trainee who had even captured the interest of Lee Do-ha, someone fundamentally indifferent to people and the world.
Jeong Si-u suspected that this unconventional dance break piece by Lee Do-ha was likely his doing as well.
“What’s he like?”
“….”
Lee Do-ha remained silent at the question as Si-u picked up the towel again and changed into dry clothes. Si-u knew this wasn’t Do-ha avoiding the question or being displeased—it was simply his own routine of taking sufficient time to organize his thoughts before responding. So instead of rushing him, Si-u calmly went about his own tasks and waited for Do-ha’s answer.
And soon, Lee Do-ha’s overall assessment of Kang Ha-jin came forth.
“He doesn’t seem to lack… desperation.”
“….”
“I’m not entirely sure. He has more than enough skill, so why doesn’t he seem ambitious?”
Lee Do-ha’s memory wound back several hours in time.
After the public outcry over the “Congratulations Lee Do-ha Dance Break Winner” had subsided (thanks in no small part to Kang Ha-jin’s relentless efforts and Kim Won-ho’s brainwashed cooperation), it was time to assign each member their parts.
-Um, I….
-Yes?
-I’d like to do lead vocals….
It was Gong Seok’s statement—someone who’d been cautiously observing everyone since the dance break incident came up.
At that moment, Lee Do-ha couldn’t help but furrow his brow. While Gong Seok certainly possessed excellent vocal abilities as a trainee, Lee Do-ha believed Kang Ha-jin was far better suited for the lead vocal position. And guiding them through this had only solidified that conviction.
-Yes, go ahead.
-…!
-Really? I can do it?
-…? There’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t.
Yet Kang Ha-jin yielded the position far too easily—as if he’d never once considered it his own from the beginning.
-In exchange, could you help Yun Tae-hee and Kim Won-ho with their vocals? I’ll be too busy keeping up with the performance choreography.
-Oh? Sure. That’s not difficult…. Thanks, Ha-jin. I’ll give it my all.
-Yes. Fighting, hyung.
He didn’t sound like he was being respectful by calling him hyung. Kang Ha-jin genuinely harbored no resentment whatsoever about Gong Seok taking the lead vocal role. Lee Do-ha found this utterly bewildering.
“He doesn’t seem to lack ambition either. He even volunteered to be the group leader….”
“Maybe he lacks confidence despite his skill?”
“…That’s how he seems about himself, at least.”
For some reason, Lee Do-ha felt frustrated and bothered by Kang Ha-jin’s demeanor. Jeong Si-u, who’d been observing Lee Do-ha’s indignant expression with considerable interest, simply shrugged and replied.
“Could be the opposite, though.”
“The opposite?”
“Maybe he genuinely doesn’t care. Since he can do everything well anyway.”
“….”
“If he’s not actually lacking ambition, then he’s confident he can place in the top ten without doing the dance break or lead vocals. If you think about it that way, he’d probably have the most confidence among all Miro trainees.”
Jeong Si-u stood from the sofa as if his business was finished, bursting into hearty laughter. Interesting guy. I’m curious about your group. With that, Jeong Si-u left the Living Room.
“…I suppose so.”
Lee Do-ha murmured, his gaze fixed on the still-playing choreography video. On screen, Kang Ha-jin danced at a level matching—perhaps even surpassing—Kim Won-ho, who openly desired the dance position. Lee Do-ha continued replaying the choreography he now had to master.
It was a night filled with many thoughts.

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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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