Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 48

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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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48. Daylight (4)
Seo Tae-il’s eyes widened at the unexpected sound of a voice breaking.
“Kang Ha-jin? Are you alright?”
“Ha… I’m sorry. Just a moment.”
In that instant, I fought with every fiber of my being to hold back the tears, but as the pent-up emotions burst through, I—the young head of household leader—turned my head away as if wiping my eyes, observing the reactions around me with shoulders heavy under the weight of it all.
“Ah, hic…”
“Ha-jin…”
The ones most flustered by the cold leader’s sudden tears were the Team B trainees who had practiced alongside me. In this moment, they were simultaneously the most shocked and bewildered by my tears, yet they were also the ones who understood best what emotional turmoil I must have endured over these past three days.
“Ah… it seems like you’ve been through quite a lot.”
Seo Tae-il, understanding the situation, offered a comment to ease the tension. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and let out a small sigh.
And then I saw it. Kwon PD pointing at me from the production crew’s booth, engaged in busy conversation.
The virtue of Episode 1 that Kwon PD always emphasized to me.
-Episode 1 absolutely needs to pull together everything that’ll be talked about. The handsome one, the one who cries, the one who gets angry, the one who acts out, the one who’s talented.
What? Seize the opportunity? Yeah, thanks a lot, you bastard.
‘I’ll make Episode 1 a one-man show featuring Kang Ha-jin.’
Since it’s come to this, I’ll handle the entire opening myself. I can’t do anything about being handsome anyway, so I’ll get angry, act out, and perform well. By the way, I already acted out just now.
-If you don’t get your head straight, you’ll ruin all the blocking! Do the live properly!
…Just understand that I had no time to worry about cameras or anything else.
“Ahem, ah, I apologize.”
After gauging the atmosphere appropriately, I exhaled shortly once my emotions seemed somewhat composed. Any further and it would be overdoing it.
I could tell without even looking that all eyes in the studio had turned toward me. I picked up the microphone and spoke my impressions as calmly as possible, my voice slightly hoarse.
“To be honest, I was really at a loss. After all, I joined here the latest… and as a leader, I worried a lot about whether I could do this well.”
The guys around me patted my back as my voice trembled.
“From now on, I’ll focus solely on showing our own sun without worrying about anything else.”
“Yes, understood. Team B showed a very impressive performance at the mid-check as well. I’m looking forward to today’s stage.”
With Seo Tae-il’s skilled hosting, my turn ended. He asked a couple more questions to the two from Team A before smoothly transitioning the remarks.
“Now then, let me introduce the five mentors who will evaluate your stage today.”
Behind Seo Tae-il, the lights flashed on with a bang. Soon, starting from the left, Seo Tae-il introduced each person one by one. Since they were trainers I saw all the time anyway, there was nothing particularly special—except for one person.
“The undisputed top solo artist of South Korea, Lia from the group Themis!”
‘I thought they might just stick with Miro staff for the first episode.’
Lia coming as a special mentor was somewhat unexpected. I would have thought Endway people might come instead. Either way, the higher the caliber and the more diverse the cast, the better. If we can pull in viewers beyond just Miro fans by creating broad appeal—”Wait, that person is appearing?”—then we expand our reach.
Of course, to reap those benefits, I’d have to tear up today’s stage.
“Miro Maze’s first mission, daylight! Let’s begin!”
Well, there’s nothing to do but stake my life on it.
I clapped enthusiastically, my palms turning bright red.
* * *
Team B’s stage was second.
“We’ll go first.”
Jeong Si-u had chosen to go first as a privilege of the Wings Rank.
‘Dirty class system.’
For someone planning to climb to the top of that rank, he had a surprisingly antisocial mindset, but what did I care? We moved to the seats prepared on one side so we could see the stage.
Team A, dressed in white and blue to deliberately aim for a fresh, clean aesthetic, took their positions according to the choreography. The lighting shifted, and the intro to a song so familiar you could sing it in your sleep began.
They certainly knew how to perform.
Flawless group choreography, precise control of dynamics and expression. A pair dance unfolded without a single flaw. Kim Won-ho and Lee Yu-gun dominated the center, practically tearing the stage apart.
Who choreographed that vicious pair?
I found myself sighing involuntarily as I watched Kim Won-ho and Lee Yu-gun, who had actually become real partners after being told to get along, matching their pair chemistry with beaming smiles. Did those two even realize this was a survival show? Just as that thought crossed my mind, Han Sung-woo finally began his opening verse in the center.
Hey, it’s me.
Han Sung-woo waved at the mentors watching them, his expression playful and mischievous with a childlike smile. He looked surprisingly natural.
So that’s why he wore the snapback backwards.
In any case, with a battle coming up, the camera would inevitably focus on me whenever Han Sung-woo’s part came up, so I watched Team A’s performance carefully, making sure not to make any strange expressions.
Honestly, Han Sung-woo’s stage presence wasn’t bad. In fact, if he’d been on Team B, our performance might have been overshadowed by him. But only―.
Moonlight filling the sky
Pouring Starry Night
When all those journeys end
Finally meeting our Highlight
There were just too many talented people.
Seo Tae-hyun appeared, dominating the brief pre-chorus with his falsetto—not even a verse or chorus, just the transition between them. True to his former Cherry Boy status, his eyes were filled with stars. The moment our eyes met, an ethereal narrative between you and me unfolded effortlessly.
Dressed in pure white, the visuals reached peak freshness. When Lee Do-ha’s deep, heavy voice and Ju Eun-chan’s rapid-tempo rap created a ping-pong effect, applause erupted.
Because even the non-“killing part” sections were so devastating, Han Sung-woo, who merely delivered average performance, looked ordinary by comparison.
A cute, mischievous expression there? That interpretation made no sense.
Everyone else was pulling off expressions of poignant longing—like lovers separated a thousand years ago meeting again through reincarnation—while he alone tried to be cute and playful. All that would do was make people think he didn’t understand the concept.
Following that Daylight path
A dance break followed, centered on Team A’s dance line. Kim Won-ho had complained about not having a part, yet he confidently took the triangular axis at the center of the dance break. Considering more than half of those dancers came from the Special Class, it was a dramatic rise in status.
Their styles were definitely different.
Kim Won-ho’s strength lay in precise, clean movements based on solid core power, while Lee Yu-gun’s specialty was flexible, nuanced expression using his long limbs. If you asked which was better, there was no right answer, but….
Lee Yu-gun suited this song better.
That was why I’d chosen Lee Yu-gun for Kim Won-ho, and why I’d told him never to become hostile toward that guy. This battle—Lee Yu-gun would definitely win.
Even if he won, it was just breaking even for him, but not for Kim Won-ho.
Kim Won-ho, who had languished in the General Class—in the lower ranks at that—and barely received any attention until the end-of-month evaluation, was now being positioned as Lee Yu-gun’s rival. That alone was a massive gain for Won-ho, not to mention how he seemed to be keeping pace right up to the finish line.
Enough. Here I was worrying about others when my own nose was three feet long.
As I entertained these pointless thoughts, the song finally reached its end. Han Sung-woo, back at center, closed his eyes wistfully and then opened them, delivering the final verse.
Hey, it’s me.
Finally meeting you, how wonderful.
Perhaps noticing something off as the song neared its end, Han Sung-woo shifted his concept in the final moments, finishing with a slightly more tender tone.
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“…Damn, Seo Tae-hyun is insane.”
“Si-u hyung really sings well. That guy’s a cheat code.”
“What do we do, seriously? Man, Do-ha hyung’s rap right after that was overkill.”
“Kim Won-ho did that well? He looked almost on par with Lee Yu-gun.”
“Nah, Lee Yu-gun’s still better though. Honestly.”
Still, the protagonist of this stage was no longer Han Sung-woo.
For now, that was enough.
* * *
“Next, Team B, please prepare.”
“Wow, they’re all performing so well. Rene should be nervous, right?”
Lia, who had been unable to contain her admiration throughout Team A’s performance, finally couldn’t help herself and muttered aloud, writing her impressions freely on the evaluation sheet. They performed well, didn’t they? She couldn’t deny Seo Tae-il’s self-satisfied remark, even in jest.
“The first team is too strong. The second team must be nervous, right?”
“There are a lot of Wings Rank trainees. Most of them were in the top tier of monthly rankings. But Team B is doing well too.”
“Ah, I’m glad I debuted back then. I don’t have to compete with kids like these.”
Lia, thinking this was a hundred-percent guaranteed line for broadcast, joked around before flipping through the evaluation sheet again, her gaze settling on Ha-jin’s assessment where she’d marked a star earlier.
“That’s the one, right? That friend from earlier.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure how it’ll go. His parts suddenly increased a lot… If he doesn’t handle it properly, the risk is too big.”
Tae-il watched Ha-jin with worried eyes as he worked out his movements. Soon, as if everything was ready, the assistant director who had been positioning the center while looking at the stage disappeared backstage. Then the prompter’s signal lit up, asking for the lead commentary to be read. This time, it was Lia’s turn.
“Yes. Before we watch the performance, I need to ask you a few questions, okay? Kang Ha-jin?”
“Yes.”
Ha-jin, who had taken the handheld microphone, looked at Lia. He said he was twenty, but his demeanor seemed to carry the composure and confidence of someone in their thirties. Lia paused for a moment. The question written on the prompter was “What are the key points to watch in today’s performance?” but….
“You sang your own song at the audition, didn’t you?”
“…? Yes? Ah… Yes, that’s right.”
“Could you sing a short verse of it for us?”
Lia’s mischievous playfulness kicked in as she threw out a massive ad-lib that wasn’t in the script. The writers, apparently unaware of this detail, frantically erased and rewrote the prompter, their confusion visible. Tae-il nudged Lia as if to say “what are you doing?” but he couldn’t stop Lia, whose curiosity about Ha-jin had already been ignited.
“I mean, we’ve met like this by fate, so shouldn’t you sing it once in front of the original artist?”
Sing it, sing it! Thanks to Lia naturally driving the situation forward, the atmosphere was instantly captured. Ha-jin looked around and let out a hearty laugh.
‘Well, this is pure gain for me.’
I’ll ask about it right in the interview. Another teaser played through my mind.
【There’s a trainee who auditioned with Lia’s song? (Ha-jin’s Rene audition footage) What’s it like being judged in front of the person who started your dream?】
‘Wow, a whole narrative just fell into place.’
After watching Team A’s performance, I was sick of seeing my teammates’ momentum completely crushed. I decided to flip the atmosphere around and didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity laid out before me.
“Then I’ll sing a short verse.”
The stage fell silent in an instant. Ha-jin felt it was oddly fresh and strange that everyone was listening to his song, and he opened his mouth calmly.
I could never forget you
A scar-like trace
That I can never erase in my lifetime
‘Damn, I pitched it too high.’
Since it had been a while since I sang it, I carelessly hit the first note too high. The rest of the song didn’t have particularly high notes anyway, so it wasn’t really a problem, but I focused all my attention to make sure there were no pitch errors.
But then, I got confused for a moment.
‘The next lyric… happiness or love?’
Since I had sung this song so earnestly before, my mouth opened habitually, but I couldn’t remember the next lyric at all. Was it happiness in the first verse and love in the second?
All those shattered moments
While I was thinking, the song reached that part. Wait, what was it? Unable to decide between the two, I just blurted out whatever came to mind.
Haa― happiness love…
…Can I even say it? Could I possibly?
How dare I
Ha-jin finished the song with a bizarre pronunciation—something between “hambak,” “hambuk,” “hangbok,” and “hobak”—and immediately covered his forehead with his hand.
“Ha, you bombed it.”
“Aha, the lyrics there are a bit confusing, right?
Who messes up the original lyrics in front of the original artist? That’s right—me, an absolute idiot. Hahahaha.

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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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