Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 525

—————

This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

—————

525. Special Mission! Become a Comet (2)
In the Chaos.
What Kang Ha-jin knew as merely a ‘survival-type strategic survival program’ was actually a survival show being jointly produced by KTBC, one of the nation’s largest comprehensive broadcasting networks, in collaboration with Studio A.
It was KTBC’s ambitious new project—a channel that had inherited a ‘refined’ image from a certain company and had only produced cultured and emotionally sophisticated entertainment programs, but now was making a bold venture with a target broadcast date of March next year.
[What about Studio A?]
I saw a job posting on Culture Job but didn’t know much about them, so I’m hesitant.
There’s been talk that KTBC’s survival show is being made there
I don’t understand why they’re outsourcing 100% instead of giving it to their own subsidiary. Is it a connection thing?
– The CEO there is from a public broadcasting recruitment background and was a founding member of First Media, right? They used to do pretty decent work back then, but their recent projects have all been small-scale
– In the Chaos, was it? If that’s what you’re talking about, it probably got passed around during the planning stage and fell through everywhere before ending up there. In short, production companies were playing hot potato with a bomb and it landed there.
– KTBC’s subsidiary line is all busy preparing new seasons of famous shows right now… Studio A’s portfolio is decent, but they’ve never handled something this large-scale recently, so there’s some concern
In the Chaos—a new entertainment program that had already gained considerable buzz from the planning stage, with such discussions occasionally appearing even in anonymous communities where industry insiders gathered.
Surprisingly, Kang Ha-jin was involved in the circumstances that led Studio A, which had only pursued modest and stable broadcasting styles to scrape by, to take on this aggressive show.
-Yeah, yeah. Go and do well. If things don’t work out, come back. I’ll keep your desk open for you.
-Yes. Thank you, senior.
This was the timeline before Kang Ha-jin devoted his one year.
It was the story after he transferred to Effect Culture and resigned from Studio A.
In other words, it was a different timeline of others that unfolded in Kang Ha-jin’s ‘original’ twenty-nine-year-old timeline—one that Kang Ha-jin himself didn’t know about.
-Hey, Ha-jin. Go print this for me… Oh.
-Senior, Ha-jin isn’t here anymore. When are you going to get used to it?
-If you’re going to miss him that much, why did you let him go in the first place?
-…Shut it. It’s because you can’t hire anyone competent. Aren’t you going to fill the position?
-Well, maybe our standards got too high? It’s not easy to replace Ha-jin’s position. He was too good at his job. He’d single-handedly do the work of three or four people….
-Senior, can’t we just hold on and bring Ha-jin back next year? Ah, the way Ha-jin catches these little problems is amazing….
After Ha-jin’s resignation, PD Kwon Myung-eun and Studio A were keenly feeling the void he left behind.
Though Ha-jin had rough edges that caused friction here and there, having so many edges also meant those sharp, honed edges revealed many standout qualities.
As tasks that would normally have been handled or quickly resolved began to stumble one by one, sighs of regret began to slip from the employees’ lips.
-Senior. Can’t we just sweet-talk Ha-jin into coming back? He seems to be struggling a lot over there right now.
-Yeah, and the rumors about that place aren’t good either…. Wouldn’t it be better to just pull him back out?
-Talk sense.
In such a tight-knit industry, there was no way Kwon Myung-eun didn’t know that Ha-jin was having a hard time at Effect Culture. Given that Ha-jin not only worked well but also meticulously looked after his junior colleagues, their words were half-joking and half-sincere.
Yet each time, Kwon Myung-eun would simply stare at her computer monitor without blinking and answer coldly.
-He was brought over through a legitimate contract transfer. Why would we bring him back? Even if we did, he should finish what he’s been assigned before coming back.
-Well, I mean…. We’re just throwing it out there because it’s a shame.
-And.
-…?
-…A kid like Ha-jin should get to play in bigger waters. He’s still young.
Kwon Myung-eun knew.
Even though he’d been worn down and dulled by friction here and there, the light of ‘passion’ still shone sharply within Ha-jin’s heart.
And she also knew that this light had been slowly fading during his time at Studio A.
—Hey, Myung-eun.
—Yes?
—There’s something I wanted to discuss with you.
I too once had a time when my eyes sparkled like that.
Kwon Myung-eun thought this while watching Kang Ha-jin.
Though now I had junior colleagues to feed and clothe, and as I grew older and came to understand the harsh realities and circumstances of adults, I’d gradually become more passive and risk-averse, there was a time when I dreamed as purely as he did.
Even during a period when Ha-jin himself thought he was at his most inadequate.
—…So, the conclusion is basically: do well and break even, do poorly and go bankrupt. Honestly, taking on a project like this at our current scale is insane too…
—…
—We won’t starve to death if we don’t do this, but if it fails, we might actually starve. Either way, if the schedule works out, you’ll need to take the lead, so first your opinion is the most…
—Let’s do it.
When the CEO brought In the Chaos—a project even KTBC’s subsidiary had rejected because the profit margins didn’t justify the limited budget for such an ambitious concept—
Kwon Myung-eun accepted the proposal without hesitation for exactly that reason.
—Let’s try this.
—…Are you really sure about this?
—We needed to take a risk at this point anyway. I’ll handle it. Just secure the full production budget for us. We’re basically cleaning up their mess, so if KTBC has any conscience, they’ll compensate us properly.
I wanted to know how far I could actually go.
To not feel ashamed working alongside good people like Ha-jin, I had to become a good senior first.
—If we’re aiming for broadcast in the first half of next year, that’s about when Ha-jin will finish his work and come back. We’ll bring him in and give him a proper debut then.
Well-informed as she was, Myung-eun couldn’t possibly not know that Ha-jin was struggling at Effect Culture. But there was no way to bring back someone already bound by contract and sent elsewhere.
So this was an apology for not warning her cherished junior about the hellfire to come, and a ‘hometown’—a refuge she was preparing for when he returned, battered and worn.
—I should’ve told you not to go back then. I’m sorry. I’ll tell the CEO, so once things wrap up there, rest for a bit and come back starting October…
—No.
—…What?
—I’m quitting this industry now.
What she hadn’t anticipated, however, was that Ha-jin’s journey had been far longer and far harsher than she’d imagined.
—What? Why? …Hey, Ha-jin. Like I keep saying, this industry is originally…!
—I don’t know anymore.
—…
—What content to make, or how to make it. …I just don’t know anymore, senior.
—…Ha-jin.
—I guess my abilities only went this far.
So Ha-jin had become so exhausted that he couldn’t return even to the ‘big stage’ she’d prepared for him.
—…I’m sorry.
From that day forward, she would regret that useless apology she’d offered Ha-jin for a very long time.
Far more than Ha-jin could have ever imagined.
“Five minutes until we start! Everyone, get to your positions!”
“The cast is heading to the waiting room!”
It had been a while since she’d been on a set this chaotic.
Myung-eun, seated before monitors displaying feeds from the observation cameras, took a sip of the coffee that Assistant Director Ha-na had brought. Beside her sat her partner, writer Go Se-hwa, whom she hadn’t seen in ages, settling in with a mischievous expression.
“Wow, look at you, Kang PD, moving up in the world? Or wait—is this a demotion? You used to mock the actors from behind the camera, and now you’re the one being mocked?”
Go Writer peered into the waiting room as Ha-jin entered, letting out a series of chuckles. There was also a note of wistfulness in her voice—’Ah, Ha-jin really does excel at these kinds of plot twists where you blindside the cast~’
She then turned her gaze to Kwon Myung-eun, her friend who still hadn’t said much, and added a quiet remark that only she could hear.
“You sure you’re okay with this? You took on this show specifically to bring him in, didn’t you?”
When Ha-jin exchanged his one year of labor at Effect Culture for time energy, everything—the unfair exploitation of his labor at Effect Culture, his plea for help to Myung-eun, her apology to him—all of it became “something that never happened.”
“…What do you mean I took on this bomb just to bring him in? Say something that makes sense.”
“Kwon PD, I remember everything you said to me over makgeolli when you first started this—”
“It’s not because of him, it’s just….”
And yet, the fact remained unchanged: Myung-eun had accepted the production of “In the Chaos” because of Ha-jin’s influence.
“Just… he’s the type who quit because work stopped being fun. If he’s still bored, I thought I’d bring him in and have him do odd jobs or something. What’s the point? It’d be a waste if a talent like that just wastes away in some apartment because of a so-called slump.”
Ha-jin’s reason for resignation had merely been “corrected” from Effect Culture to slump and depression.
The company staff still felt Ha-jin’s absence,
and Myung-eun had still been inspired by Ha-jin to resolve to turn Studio A into something “bigger.”
Of course, the variable of casting Ha-jin as talent rather than production staff was genuinely unplanned….
“Sigh, I wonder if Kang PD realizes—those tiger seniors who used to give him harsh words to toughen him up in front of everyone? They were actually anxious behind the scenes, worried sick that my kid’s spirit would be broken~”
“…You’ve gotten chattier since we last met? Focus. We’re starting filming now.”
“Yes, yes~”
Kwon Myung-eun, who usually spouted shameless remarks with a thick skin, had no immunity to this kind of talk. She grumbled and changed the subject. As Go Se-hwa shrugged and turned her head, Myung-eun also crossed her arms and shifted her gaze to the monitor.
-Senior, all cast members have entered the waiting room.
“Got it. From here on, let’s keep it natural, follow the script.”
Inside the monitor box where multiple screens were arranged like CCTV feeds, Myung-eun easily spotted her junior.
Black hair styled just right, black-washed jeans that perfectly captured his image, a black short-sleeved turtleneck that fit his frame snugly, a mustang jacket with denim sleeves draped over it, and boots to match.
His casual outfit was starkly different from his PD days when he’d always shown up in a hoodie and sweatpants, and the accessories hanging modestly from his ears and hands made it impossible for anyone to suspect he was an ordinary person who’d been working like a hermit here just months ago.
Observing Ha-jin as he gazed around the waiting room with a nostalgic light in his eyes, Myung-eun whispered softly to Se-hwa in a casual tone.
“Well, I mean….”
“…?”
Kang Ha-jin had returned.
Not as production staff, but as a casting prospect.
To seize another opportunity born from the time he’d thought he’d been abandoned by his dreams.
“Maybe that was always supposed to be his spot. When he’s sitting somewhere that isn’t his real place, how could the kid possibly have any energy?”
And this was something neither Myung-eun nor Ha-jin knew.
The influence that twenty-nine-year-old Ha-jin had exerted on Myung-eun was still, even in the timeline where twenty-one-year-old Ha-jin existed, unconsciously reshaping her life.
“Anyway, I’m excited too? It’s been a while since I’ve done something on this scale, so why doesn’t it feel unfamiliar?”
“Right? I’m working with you again after so long, and it’s not even that difficult~? Kwon Myung-eun isn’t dead yet?”
The reason she’d been able to boldly challenge groundbreaking programs like “Miro Maze” and “Today’s Kairos” in the “original” timeline had everything to do with this.
Because time had always worked that way—in circles.
-Situation starting in 10 seconds. Beginning countdown.
-10, 9, 8, 7….
-…3, 2, 1! Alarm sounds!
Weeeeeeee―!
And so, the pre-production meeting for In the Chaos—conceived by the illustrious Star PD Kwon Myung-eun (though admittedly absent from my current memories) and the Star Writer Go Se-hwa (who, mercifully, remained exactly as advertised)—finally commenced in earnest, masquerading as nothing more than a zombie horde incident.
And when it came to zombie hordes, the beginning was always, inevitably….
-KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
It was a scream so piercing that merely hearing it threatened to render one unconscious.

—————

This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

—————