Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 504

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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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504. The Butterfly’s Dream (3)
A night street that wasn’t particularly deserted.
People exchanged emotions and conversations—some boisterously, others poetically—while the sound of waves from the night sea blew through with considerable force.
The sea.
Yes, it was the sea.
This place, neither overly sentimental nor too crowded and chaotic, was autumn in Busan.
On the night beach of Haeundae, where the summer season had long passed, people and music mingled carelessly with the wind, crashing against the waves.
‘…This is boring.’
A man who had come on a trip to clear his head irritably removed the earbuds from his ears and grumbled inwardly. He’d come hoping to find some new stimulation, but this place too turned out to be nothing but the same predictable things.
‘Even the street performances—there’s nothing worth listening to….’
The man’s gaze turned toward two young performers on a nearby stage platform, who were enthusiastically creating noise pollution. They’d been singing and rapping with considerable effort, but even being generous, they were merely amateur level.
Anyone with passion for music deserved respect, but whether they could satisfy someone who once worked as casually as eating with Korea’s top-tier musicians was another matter entirely.
‘Should I just go back inside, take a bath, and sleep?’
He’d been sitting here aimlessly for three hours already.
The man stood up to head back to the hotel. If he returned empty-handed, his travel companion would complain for another three hours about feeling disappointed, so he decided to pick up some late-night snacks on the way back.
“Are you leaving?”
“…?”
The man, who had been brushing sand off his pants, turned around slightly startled by the unfamiliar voice.
‘Is he talking to me?’
As he reflexively pushed his hat down further and turned his gaze, beyond the dark sunglasses he saw an unfamiliar young man with a guitar case slung over one shoulder, smiling brightly at him.
Wondering if the young man had recognized him, he pointed to himself with his hand and asked, ‘Me?’ The young man in the varsity jacket, with both hands in his pockets, nodded enthusiastically and flashed a friendly smile.
The attractive mole beneath his right eye rippled along with that smile.
“I’m about to do something really fun starting now.”
It was a remark overflowing with confidence to the point of being absurd.
While the man hesitated, searching for a response, the young man quickly added another line before the moment could slip away.
“It’s a performance you can only see today. You’ll regret it if you miss it, trust me?”
A special performance, not something that happened every single day.
Despite the clichéd promotional pitch, the young man’s confident tone somehow sparked curiosity.
The man examined the young man’s appearance and answered for the first time.
“If the performance is that fun, why can you only do it today?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well… because I don’t have a tomorrow?”
The answer grew stranger by the moment. So was that the motto—’perform as if today is the last day’?
The man blinked in bewilderment as he looked at the young man, who simply shrugged as if to say ‘go if you want’ and passed by him. Then he climbed onto the wooden stage platform set up directly in front of the man.
On these wooden platform stages scattered across the sandy beach, people often performed magic shows or street performances. The duo that had been creating noise pollution nearby was now preparing to leave.
“….”
The man hesitated for a moment.
The young man, as if to say ‘that’s the pitch—the choice is yours,’ didn’t even glance at the man as he set up his guitar, amplifier speaker, and microphone.
His jet-black hair swayed softly in the sea breeze.
“…Would you like to stay and watch?”
“They say it’s a performance you can only see today in your entire life. It’d be a shame to miss it when it’s right in front of you.”
“Even if I were reborn, I couldn’t see this performance on any day but today. Missing it would be foolish.”
“Well, I didn’t come all the way to Busan just to be treated like a fool.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”
In the end, the man abandoned his plan to return to the hotel and settled back onto the stairs. As he took his seat, a few people nearby began to glance over with interest, sensing that a new performance was about to begin.
A young man, having finished the sound check on his microphone and guitar, positioned himself before the mic stand with a guitar pick held between his lips. As he brushed his hair back, a scar at the end of his right eyebrow became visible.
The young man with a rugged impression spoke again to the man seated directly in front of him.
“Sir.”
“…Sir?”
“Well, I can’t just call you father out of nowhere. Boss? …that feels a bit cold.”
“I could be your younger sibling, you know.”
“Come on, sir. No matter how much you try to hide it, that’s a bit too shameless.”
At the joke delivered with a wave of his hand, small laughter rippled through the gathered crowd.
The man realized the young performer had deliberately designated him as the “first audience member.” He was using him to naturally solicit interest from passersby, and moreover, he was opening the performance with light icebreaker banter.
‘Quite skilled.’
Since reaching his age, he’d usually been the one cracking such jokes. Now he realized he wasn’t particularly displeased with this situation.
In fact, he found himself growing more intrigued.
‘If Da-woon had been here with me, it would’ve been incredibly noisy.’
Recalling his travel companion, who was probably lounging around in the hotel eating snacks by now, he smiled faintly. Apparently taking that smile as a positive response, the young man, who had been plucking the guitar strings a few times with his fingers, broached the main topic.
“Since you’re my first audience member, I’ll give you a special privilege. Is there a song you like?”
“You take song requests?”
“Yes.”
“Any song at all?”
“Yes. …as long as it’s a song I know?”
At the caveat he added belatedly, laughter erupted among the people once more.
Seeing how people laughed at something not particularly remarkable, it seemed the young man’s handsome features, befitting his rugged smile and smooth demeanor, were doing their part.
Quickly assessing the young man’s proportions—easily over eight heads tall—the man paused in thought, inwardly impressed.
Soon, a hint of mischief played at the corners of his mouth.
“Can you do ‘Blue Waves’?”
“…Pardon?”
“‘Blue Waves.’ A Upia song. It’s such an old track—you might not know it?”
It was a song choice far removed from what a street busker with just an acoustic guitar would be expected to perform.
But the man was curious about how this young performer would sing “Blue Waves.”
He wanted to hear it again after so long.
“….”
Upon hearing his song choice, the young man hesitated with an indecipherable expression.
‘Is it impossible after all?’
The original was such an intense hip-hop dance track that it would naturally be difficult.
Not wanting to ruin the stage he’d set up with his own hands, the man slipped his hand into his pocket and opened his mouth to suggest a more appropriate song choice instead.
“Then Lia’s ‘Never Again’―.”
“I’ll do it.”
“….”
“I’ll call upon ‘Blue’.”
At the young man’s words, the man closed his mouth again. Though it was night, beyond the dark sunglasses he wore firmly, their eyes seemed to meet for a brief moment.
Sensing a hint of unspoken questioning in the young man’s gaze directed at him, the man uncrossed his arms and leaned his upper body slightly forward.
‘Did he recognize me?’
Between television and AiTube, it had been years since he’d been active, so it was unlikely—but still.
Being cautious just in case, the man pulled his mask up to the bridge of his nose. The phone screen in his grip suddenly gleamed, announcing a new message had arrived.
【Lovely Maltese Main Dancer Third, Nam Da-down♥ ‖ Tae-il hyung!!!】
【Lovely Maltese Main Dancer Third, Nam Da-down♥ ‖ Just bring 5 seed hotteoks when you come!!!!】
The man quickly checked the message and replied.
【I’m running late】
【Go to sleep first】
【Let’s eat hotteok tomorrow】
【Lovely Maltese Main Dancer Third, Nam Da-down♥ ‖ Why!??!?!!!!?!?!!!?!?!?!?!!?】
【Lovely Maltese Main Dancer Third, Nam Da-down♥ ‖ (dog emoji with question marks)】
【Lovely Maltese Main Dancer Third, Nam Da-down♥ ‖ (emoji of wailing and screaming)】
Well, a message bombardment would be incoming soon.
With quick situational judgment, the man—Seo Tae-il—switched his phone to silent mode and stuffed it back into his coat pocket, then lifted his head again to focus on the performance before him.
The young man’s dark eyes sparkled as he naturally transformed the familiar melody into a guitar accompaniment.
‘I hope he does well.’
With such anticipation, Seo Tae-il waited for the young man’s opening verse.
He found it strange that the young man with that refreshing smile didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar to him.
* * *
Standing with his back to the beach at Haeundae, Kang Ha-jin pondered.
‘What, I thought it was Seo Tae-il.’
I was surprised by how similar his proportions and voice were, but surely that couldn’t be.
From what I’d heard, since his 20th-anniversary concert years ago, he’d been on sabbatical for years now, traveling the world without a single entertainment activity or sighting.
That Seo Tae-il, whom even journalists couldn’t track down, wouldn’t possibly be here in Busan today of all places.
‘Even if it really were Seo Tae-il… he wouldn’t recognize me anyway right now.’
I steadied my trembling breath.
There was a good reason why I, living near Gyeonggi Province, had come all the way to Busan just to do a busking performance.
‘They say you have to make a reservation a week in advance just to do one busking performance—is this even a country?’
What are people like me supposed to do, those of us who regress with only seventeen hours to twenty-three fifty-nine?
All the romance was ruined. They say music is the only drug a nation permits.
From Hongdae, the ‘mecca of busking,’ to my own neighborhood.
I’d searched every busking spot I could find, but the despair I felt when I learned they all required reservations through government offices a week in advance was indescribable even now.
I’d considered just pushing through anyway since everything resets anyway, but Seoul’s spots were already fully booked. No matter how dire the situation, forcibly taking someone else’s slot would get me dragged away before I could even turn up the microphone volume.
‘This place also normally requires a reservation, but….’
And that’s how I discovered Haeundae.
Like Seoul, this place also required advance reservations through their website a week prior, but since it was a tourist destination, there was intel (?) suggesting they didn’t bother checking daily unless something special happened.
(The source was an amateur musician’s open chat room I’d joined for research purposes.)
“Witty Pudding ‖ Isn’t Haeundae pretty empty this season?”
【Witty Pudding ‖ Off-season means reservations aren’t that strict】
【Witty Pudding ‖ Sometimes if you’re lucky they just let you busking without permission lolol】
【Witty Pudding ‖ Of course if you get caught you’re screwed lololololol】
※ Warning. Unlicensed busking is a clear violation of regulations, and as exemplary citizens of South Korea, we must uphold the law and maintain social order and rules with integrity. ※
…That was the alarm of conscience blaring in my head.
For about three seconds, maybe?
‘Show me a situation worse than looping the same six hours infinitely, and I’ll back down.’
So I quietly decided to add one more line beneath that conscience warning.
※ However, fixed regressors exhausted and mentally weakened by infinite loops may apply retroactively or take action first and report later. ※
What good were all these rules against a regressor who’d lost their mind anyway?
There was nowhere to perform in Seoul anyway, and I’d definitely get chased out in less than ten minutes.
I’d tried streaming from my room on AiTube and OneStagram Live, but with fewer than ten viewers, there was zero impact.
A place with as much foot traffic as Seoul, a busking zone, yet without strict surveillance.
That single answer was what I’d scraped together from my empty bank account to buy a train ticket. To demonstrate my firm resolve, I’d only bought a one-way ticket. I would absolutely watch tomorrow’s sunrise from the Namhae sea.
…Though honestly, if the plan failed anyway, I’d just wake up in my small room at home, so I was saving money regardless.
“Well then, let me play the first song of today.”
Huh, is my voice trembling a bit?
But it didn’t matter.
Busking in front of Haeundae Beach in Busan? Twenty-nine-year-old me could never have imagined it, but twenty-one-year-old me could.
“Please listen well. …I’ll sing my best.”
A crisp acoustic guitar sound rang out through the noisy nighttime promenade. Even the fierce sea breeze hitting my back became part of the performance.
As the rhythmic accompaniment began, I lifted my gaze slightly. Among the crowd gathering at the impressive musicianship, the System window—now a much deeper shade of blue—flickered into view.
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Today, without fail.
I would fill that last remaining square.
Even if I had to dive into the Busan sea to do it.
Kang Ha-jin’s final desperate attempt began quite beautifully.

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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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