Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 476

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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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476. Facing (5)
Five times.
“…Ha-jin. Of course I know you’re doing well and working hard. I’m always grateful to you.”
From twenty-three to twenty-six.
Excluding minor short-term projects, I had experienced a total of five contract expirations.
“But if you keep having problems with senior colleagues like this…. Honestly, it’s difficult for the company too. You know that filling a position at your career level isn’t the same as filling a senior-level position.”
Two of those were layoffs due to the company’s financial difficulties and poor performance, and three were due to workplace maladjustment and conflicts.
Without exception, they were reasons that made me doubt the very strengths I thought I possessed—my work abilities and interpersonal skills.
“I know you’re good, Ha-jin. You’re doing well. But Ha-jin, this is really, truly not as your CEO but as your senior and older brother speaking….”
The first time, I thought it could happen.
The next time, I thought it was bad luck,
and the next, I thought it happened because those people were incompetent and tactless.
“As you live, you’ll encounter many seniors who are less capable than you, frustrating seniors, seniors with bad personalities… You can’t keep colliding and crashing into them every single time. Eventually, it’s you who’ll break.”
But when the same situation repeated for the fifth time, I could no longer avoid asking myself.
“I’m not blaming you, it’s just…. Well, I wish you’d learned a bit more tact, Ha-jin. People aren’t staying quiet because they don’t know that person can’t work or has a bad personality. We all know you’re struggling, that it’s hard for you.”
Was my best effort truly my best?
“If you hate seeing that senior, you should overwhelm them with skill. You should immediately perform at a senior level and take that position. But you’re not there yet, Ha-jin. You’ve only just become an Assistant Director head, and in terms of broadcasting, you’re practically a newcomer.”
Like that incident at KD Entertainment’s practice room back then.
This time too—was there something wrong with me?
“You said back then that you were anxious because your career was so scattered and you hadn’t been in broadcasting long. How small is this industry? What good would it do you to get labeled as the junior who disrespects seniors?”
And yet, and yet still.
I was fine.
“As your senior, I’m saying this because I think you’re such a waste. No matter where you go or what you do in the future, think carefully about what I’ve said. Okay?”
If there was a problem, I could fix it, correct it, and change it.
Just like after that day when everyone turned away from me, when I had countless times disciplined myself, reflected, and examined my actions.
“…Yes.”
After all, this was all just a process.
“Thank you for everything, CEO.”
It had to be a process.
* * *
Twenty-seven.
Around that time, I was going through a period of self-reflection.
The advice the CEO of the last production company I worked for had given me when he resigned—I could only understand what it meant after time had passed. As I aged and accumulated more years in the industry, things began to come into focus.
“Jae-wook, the shooting schedule for tomorrow is wrong. You and Ho-young came out with Team A and Team B switched?”
“Ah, that… I just changed it.”
“…Changed it? Why? You didn’t tell me.”
“Ah, well, Ho-young had the overnight shift at the company today. Since an email comes in early tomorrow morning that needs to be uploaded to the project right away…. But tomorrow’s shooting location would be much more efficient if I go straight to Team A from home and Ho-young goes straight to Team B from the company, so I changed it.”
“Is that so? Did you talk to Ho-young about it?”
“Ah, no. Ho-young said he was going home and coming back, so I was just about to tell him via message.”
I was now at a mid-career level where I had juniors to manage.
Ha-jin was gradually coming to understand what his seniors had always said: “You’re not the only one who thinks.” He could now acknowledge, at least somewhat, how rude and arrogant a junior he had been.
“Hmm… Jae-wook, your place is in Jamsil, right?”
“Yes, yes. That’s why going straight toward Gangnam is much faster.”
Watching juniors who were young, sharp, and capable yet made the same mistakes he once did—he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his own immaturity reflected in them.
“…But Team A needs to help with the camera director’s equipment rental tomorrow, so we have to hit Mapo and then Gimpo. The dispatch call is at 5:30 AM in Yeongdeungpo—can you make it?”
“…Ah, yes?”
“Ho-young lives in a shared apartment in Hapjeong, right? So I figured it’d be faster if we just picked up the dispatch from there. That’s how I arranged it. But look, if you’re saying you’ll wake up at 3 AM, prep for shooting, and take a taxi all the way to Yeongdeungpo, I won’t stop you, but…”
“Well, but Ho-young needs to receive an email early this morning, so I…”
“Right. I’m handling that instead. Eun-jung took sick leave today, so I have to add subtitles to episode 4. I’m pulling an all-nighter anyway, so I told Ho-young to just go home and get some sleep, then head straight to Yeongdeungpo tomorrow. On purpose.”
Most of Ha-jin’s regrets were like this.
‘Wasn’t there a better way?’
Even if I was right, even if I was correct, even if I was proper, even if I did well, even if I was talented.
Couldn’t there have been a slightly better, more considerate way to handle things?
“Ah…”
“I understand why you switched assignments, but next time, ask me first before you do something like that. Director Sung-jin is particular, and since Ho-young is an alumnus, he takes special care of him. Sung-yeon specifically asked to have Ho-young assigned to her, so that’s how it was arranged. The moment Sung-yeon saw the schedule, she texted me. What are we supposed to do about this?”
“…I apologize.”
Back then, I poured everything into proving myself, it seemed.
Much rougher and more crude than now.
I was so busy asserting that only I was right and capable that I missed so much along the way.
That’s what I thought.
“I know you live in Jamsil and Gangnam’s close by, kid. That’s why I assigned you to Team B, which is farther, but your call time is 1 PM. One o’clock—man, that’s late enough to wake up in the morning, shower, and eat breakfast twice.”
“…”
“Cheer up, kid. I’m not scolding you for messing up. It’s just that our work involves so many people, and there are things seniors don’t tell you juniors about. Before you do something, ask your seniors for their input too. That’s what I’m teaching you.”
“…Yes. Thank you, senior.”
In truth, Ha-jin had despised incompetent people—not just in words, but genuinely.
And it showed.
His frustration, contempt, and dislike were visible on his face. Yet toward those he acknowledged and respected, he was unfailingly polite and courteous. For seniors who had him as a junior, that must have been quite difficult to deal with.
Ha-jin only began to learn these things after he became a senior himself.
“Our work is ultimately work done by people, after all. No matter how well you work or how smart you are, in the end, people want to work on the next project with someone who’s enjoyable and comfortable to work with. Work can be taught to anyone who isn’t hopeless.”
During the months he’d been away from work, no one had sought him out—and that became the greatest catalyst for his transformation.
Kang Ha-jin wanted to become ‘someone people want to work with,’ not simply ‘someone who’s good at their job.’
“Ha-jin! Where are you, Ha-jin! Ha-jin!”
“So Jae-wook, you wrap up early today and head home… Yes! Kang Ha-jin is here!”
“Kwon Myung-eun says to grab coffee right now and dash to the conference room! Looks like Go Writer’s about to go another round.”
“Goodness… You understand, right, Kim Jae-wook? Just pack your shooting gear and leave early today. I already told Team Leader. I’m going to deliver coffee.”
“Ah, yes! …Thank you!”
Studio A.
More precisely, Studio Alpha.
This outsourced production company, where I’d impulsively sent my resume while unemployed and somehow ended up getting hired, was a relatively new broadcast production company founded a few years ago by a PD from one of Korea’s most successful production houses.
While they primarily handled idol-related content, they took on everything from documentaries to cable variety shows to educational videos—like all outsourced production companies, they didn’t refuse work that came their way.
“No, that’s exactly why. It’s an idol reality show—why would they need rest? They should be working! Working hard, rolling around, flying through the air!?”
“That’s just Kwon Myung-eun not understanding the idol industry these days. Do you know I got bombarded with DMs after rolling SevenX’s kids through a rice paddy once? Idols grinding away and making big money—that’s not the vibe anymore.”
“No, I get it. I do get it, okay? I totally understand that kids these days want to see idols thriving and looking good. That’s exactly why we need to put them through the wringer here even more…!”
“Seniors, your delicious, refreshing coffee is here!”
In particular, the works of Kwon Myung-eun, the Main PD who helmed most of the projects, and Go Se-hwa, the Writer who frequently collaborated with her, were consistently praised for their fresh ideas and high editing quality.
For an outsourced production company, the treatment of freelance PDs was clean and professional, and there wasn’t much of the usual wage-cutting or welfare games. People who’d worked on a project together would deliberately bring each other back for the next gig, even as part-timers, just to maintain that chemistry.
The one regret was that despite the quality of their work, the commercial success often fell short—so even after nearly ten years since establishing the studio, they still didn’t have a signature hit to their name.
“Ha-jin! Perfect timing! I can just ask Ha-jin about this.”
“Abara, Senior Seon-woo. A cafe mocha with extra whipped cream, Writer Shim. An iced Americano. Here you go, seniors….”
“Right, right. We’ve got our idol-turned-Ha-jin here! Let’s ask Ha-jin—after all, he’s the closest to what kids are like these days, right?”
“A warm chamomile for Writer Ji-won? And… the iced chocolate is mine.”
“Come on, Ha-jin’s not really a kid of this generation anymore, is he? Still, he’s an idol-turned-PD, so he’d know the most about this stuff. Last time during the item meeting, he seemed to know Rose Day really well? PD, are you perhaps a Rosemary?”
“And… these two cups are for you seniors. As for me, I’m not an idol-turned-anything, and I’m definitely not a Rosemary, but go ahead and ask.”
Still, Ha-jin loved this place.
“Ugh, seniors, stop picking on Ha-jin.”
“Picking on him? We’re being serious right now.”
“Ha-jin, just answer quickly and get out of here. We want to eat, okay? Let’s eat.”
“Oh, right. Your lunch boxes arrived downstairs—should I bring them up?”
“Ha-jin, that’s not what matters right now, okay?”
“Yes, yes. Go ahead.”
After walking through all those processes, all those steps, perhaps arriving here was inevitable.
I loved this place and the people in it.
“In a Rose Day reality show, do you want to see Rose Day relaxing in some fancy resort, or do you want to see them going to an uninhabited island, building a house, and filming like Minecraft? Honestly, if you were a fan, which would pull you in more?”
“Uh, Kwon PD? Isn’t that a pretty biased way of framing it?”
“No, look. Kang Ha-jin, answer me. Which sounds more fun?”
“The resort.”
“What!? Why!?”
“Because if I pick the island, you’ll make me go scout it out.”
From the spring when I was twenty-seven to the autumn when I was twenty-eight.
That was when Ha-jin finally believed his journey had reached the right answer.
Looking back, it had been the happiest time.
The happiest.

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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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