Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 33

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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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33. First Month-End Evaluation (5)
The moment Lee Do-ha took his first step, Kang Ha-jin thought to himself.
This is it. Perfect.
“Oh my.”
“Do-ha’s improved so much.”
With Gong Seok’s ad-lib line, the dance break between Yun Tae-hee and Lee Do-ha begins. Since the song was created with rebellion as its motif, the two of them exchanged fierce, combative choreography in this section as if they were fighting each other.
Because the movements weren’t identical, Lee Do-ha wasn’t overshadowed by Yun Tae-hee, who had relatively superior execution. However, in the moments where their movements overlapped, their long arms and legs moved with precisely the same angles.
The exhilaration of every synchronized combination from practice landing perfectly on every beat!
After Yun Tae-hee launched himself off Lee Do-ha’s thighs and executed a clean back tumbling, I and the remaining members stepped forward from the wings with the confidence of returning generals, establishing our formation as the final third verse chorus crashes down.
Watch me. This radiant Victory
Melody filling the shattered moonlit night
These two clasped hands will shine in the end
I’ll invite you to the end of this beginning
Welcome, this is NEW WAVE
The song ended with ragged breathing. Even after it finished, the five of us held our ending pose for a moment longer before straightening into a single line at my signal. We were waiting for feedback.
“….”
“….”
Unlike the other groups, silence stretched considerably. The trainers evaluating us couldn’t seem to find their words easily. Just as the lengthening quiet began to unsettle everyone except me and Do-ha,
Clap, clap, clap―.
“…!”
“You all worked hard. You made it well.”
Seo Tae-il, who had been quietly observing the entire time, offered brief praise along with his applause. At the senior’s approval, the expressions of the group members, which had been hardening, brightened again.
“I was surprised how well the gestures were organized. This is the first time I’ve seen Do-ha do a dance break. You practiced a lot, didn’t you?”
“Ah… Thank you.”
“But why did Do-ha do it? Since Won-ho dances well, it would’ve been fine if the composition continued after his solo. That would’ve worked too.”
“….”
“Was Do-ha the best choice for the dance break?”
The question was delivered with a smile, but it was far from gentle, and silence fell for a moment. In that instant, everyone reflexively had no choice but to look at me.
Lee Do-ha’s dance break was solely, entirely, my decision.
And I, who had suddenly become the focus of everyone’s gaze in the practice room, answered very comfortably.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I judged that Won-ho has movements he needs to execute even in the third verse chorus, so having him do the dance break as well would be too demanding.”
“….”
“Seok-i is occupied with his ad-lib, so his participation wasn’t possible. Do-ha is similar in height and build to Tae-hee, so I thought he’d fit better with the duel concept choreography. He also needed to be able to support Tae-hee’s acrobatics, and also.”
I paused briefly, glancing back and forth between Do-ha and the Dance Trainer once, then continued.
“I thought he’d be capable of it. Do-ha could do it.”
At those words, the trainers nodded as if they had no counterargument this time. Seo Tae-il tapped his pen against the desk as if he’d accepted it to some degree, then placed the pen cap in his mouth and asked casually.
“What about you?”
“Pardon?”
“What about you, Kang Ha-jin? Don’t you think you’re capable of doing it?”
“….”
‘…What’s this?’
Kang Ha-jin’s mouth, which had been pouring out prepared answers fluently, closed shut. Watching his hesitation, Ji Su-ho also turned to look at him with a slightly bewildered expression. It wasn’t even that difficult a question—why couldn’t he answer?
“I said I wanted to do it.”
Breaking the silence, Lee Do-ha hastily raised his hand and answered instead. The three clueless brothers, quietly observing the situation, struggled not to let their true thoughts—’When did you say that?’—show on their faces. Fortunately, even if they were clueless, they had good instincts.
“Do-ha?”
“Yes. I said I wanted to try it. I also thought it would be nice if Kang Ha-jin specifically sang the chorus after the third verse.”
“Is that so? …That’s good ambition. Either way, I was impressed. You came well prepared.”
At Lee Do-ha’s words, Seo Tae-il leaned back against his chair as if he wouldn’t ask further questions, concluding his evaluation. After hearing brief assessments from trainers in each field, Kang Ha-jin and his team members were able to return to their seats.
“Hyung, hyung. I think we did well….”
Won-ho, who had received positive feedback on the choreography he’d created, called out to Kang Ha-jin with an excited voice as he sat down, but he trailed off at the sight of Kang Ha-jin’s expression, which had grown strangely cold and rigid.
“Huh? Did you call me? What did you say?”
“Huh? No, I was just saying you worked hard.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Kang Ha-jin belatedly turned to Won-ho and offered an appropriate greeting, but his expression still bore some inexplicable shadow.
‘He got praised, so why does he look like that?’
Won-ho shrugged his shoulders with an awkward expression. Kang Ha-jin repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, still lost in thought about something.
“Well then, everyone worked hard. The evaluation results will be posted on the bulletin board the day after tomorrow, so check them.”
“Yes!”
As the trainees offered a resounding bow of gratitude, the trainers left the Practice Room. Kang Ha-jin, who had kept his head down the entire time, also stood from his seat.
The first month-end evaluation had ended.
* * *
That same evening, in the 2nd Floor Conference Room of the Miro Entertainment Building.
Since Miro’s trainees received a total of three days off after the month-end evaluation, all executives and employees related to Miro’s upcoming survival show—including staff from the New Artist Development Team—gathered in the conference room to compile the results of this month-end evaluation.
“These kids are definitely in the upper tier.”
“Well, of course. They were debut-ready even without the survival show in the first place.”
Evaluations for each team progressed quickly. Focusing on the key opinions among them:
“Group D… was it a poor song choice?”
“Except for Sung-woo, hardly anyone handled it properly. I was quite disappointed.”
“Tae-hyun seemed to find some confidence this time?”
“Right? He looked like he was struggling before… but he overcame it.”
“I heard he got a lot of healing when he went home for a bit because things were tough this time.”
Honest evaluations of various trainees continued. From their attitudes over the past month to the skills they displayed on stage today. Since this would be the first high-ranking performance in the survival show, the discussion proceeded carefully.
“What did everyone think of Group A?”
And finally, the hot potato that everyone had been putting off came up for discussion.
“Hmm….”
“Well, they did well. They did do well, but…”
“This is difficult.”
Unlike the generally positive feedback for other groups, everyone hesitated to give an easy evaluation.
‘What’s this? Isn’t this group performing really well?’
Kim, who had originally been part of Endway’s self-produced team under Miro but was reassigned to the next generation’s self-produced team alongside this survival show, wore a puzzled expression at everyone’s reactions. Based on what he’d observed during today’s month-end evaluation shoot (which would later be used as broadcast material), this was the team that had left the deepest impression on him.
“Sigh, I’ll be honest. They did well, they really did.”
“….”
“But I can’t tell if that’s their actual skill level or if they just unleashed their potential on this stage. Looking at their evaluations so far, they haven’t really shown themselves to be trainees worthy of debuting in the top ranks of the next survival show.”
Yu, a manager from the New Artist Development Team known for speaking her mind without hesitation, sighed as she said this. Her words opened the floodgates, and soon everyone began pouring out their pent-up thoughts.
“Honestly, I’m not even sure they performed that well. Of course, it’s amazing that trainees like Do-ha pulled off a dance break like that. But objectively speaking, wasn’t the difficulty level a bit flat?”
“More than that, there’s no one who really stands out. I can’t point to anyone and say they caught my eye the most.”
“It just felt like watching a typical idol group performance. That’s all.”
Faced with the barrage of criticism, Kim glanced quietly at Su-ho and Tae-il, who remained silent. But neither of them offered any rebuttal—they simply listened to what the staff had to say.
‘What’s this? Are they agreeing with what they’re saying?’
Since Kim had only ever observed completed groups, evaluating trainees was new to him, and he found himself confused.
‘But they really did perform well, didn’t they?’
After listening to the evaluations for a while, Kim finally couldn’t hold back. He raised his hand and voiced the question mark that had been rising from deep within him.
“Um.”
“…?”
“Isn’t that performing well?”
All eyes turned to Kim. Though he wasn’t particularly senior, he broke into a cold sweat for a moment, but he couldn’t let Team A go like this, so he pressed on.
“I mean, they’re trainees, but they looked like an idol group… isn’t that incredible?”
But Kim truly felt that way.
‘They had that much polish to them.’
True, if you looked at individual capabilities alone, they might fall short compared to top-tier trainees from other teams. But as a group performance, it was clear without needing to watch it two or three times over that they’d delivered their maximum output. Each member had given everything they had.
Regardless of how poorly they’d been evaluated before, shouldn’t this be reflected in their scores?
The rebellion of underdog underdogs!
As a content creator, this was absolutely a growth narrative he couldn’t afford to miss!
“Even thinking just about the next survival show… I think it would make for an interesting composition. Having one or two trainees like this.”
After carefully voicing his thoughts, Kim glanced around nervously before his eyes met Su-ho’s, who had been watching him. Oh, that intimidating guy. Worried that what he’d said might have been overstepping, Kim licked his lips and saw something.
‘He’s smiling?’
Su-ho was smiling with what looked like satisfaction at his words.
“That’s a fair point.”
And as if that smile had been a dream, Su-ho quickly returned to his usual poker face and took control of the conversation with a loud voice that cleared the air.
“Even if they’re not quite at the level to push out the standout performers from other teams, let’s evaluate them with consideration for what they accomplished today.”
“….”
“We need to objectively assess whether this trainee originally had this kind of potential but just hadn’t shown it until now, or whether today’s stage represents their maximum output. After all, the trainees starting in the top 10 will be Miro’s first face going forward.”
With both perspectives appropriately reflected in the conclusion, everyone agreed. Su-ho gently steered the conversation forward: “So, which five should we move up? Everyone began offering their own opinions.
“Do-ha has no reason not to be in the top ranks.”
“Obviously. He handled songwriting, composition, producing, and even the dance break this time.”
“I’d like to give Won-ho a higher score too. I heard this choreography is his work?”
“Seok-i… honestly, I didn’t know he could do this much. Before, he was always just singing verses.”
Various evaluations of the team members unfolded. Watching Su-ho, who continued to control the atmosphere without adding his own words, Tae-il, who had remained quiet the whole time, finally asked in a low voice.
“Why aren’t you saying anything, hyung? Isn’t Kang Ha-jin the friend you’re backing?”
“You’re one to talk. Ha-jin seems to care about you a lot—show some support.”
“Come on, if I take sides, that’s totally unfair. I have to stay neutral.”
“Same here.”
At Su-ho’s response, Tae-il laughed with a deflating sound and shook his head. He loved his hyung for that very reason, but he really did keep work and personal matters separate. What if Ha-jin doesn’t make it into the top ten because of this?
At Tae-il’s murmured words, Su-ho laughed and spoke.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s something you need to worry about.”
“Huh?”
“Look over there. It’s decided.”
When Tae-il turned his gaze to where Su-ho gestured with his chin, he saw the whiteboard set up for meetings.
【February 20XX Month-End Evaluation Final Rankings】
It was the first signal announcing a massive upheaval.

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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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