Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 65

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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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65. Turbulence
Red sauce was smeared unpleasantly across the sleeve of my alma mater’s uniform shirt, deliberately procured from my family home.
In that brief moment, my mind flooded with various thoughts—or rather, a torrent of curses barely fit for polite company.
‘…That punk’s barely old enough to wipe his own nose.’
Most of them boiled down to wondering where this brat had learned such appalling table manners, though I’ll spare you the unfiltered version. (That was the censored one.)
‘Hold it together, Kang Ha-jin. Not yet. Not now.’
No matter how infuriating he was, this wasn’t the moment. Especially not here in the middle of the Waiting Room with external Staff Members scattered everywhere. Getting heated with him would only make things worse.
‘I know that intellectually.’
But how do I stop myself from seething?
[System Alert: The system grabs popcorn. (How entertaining)]
‘This bastard isn’t helping me at all.’
I decided to ignore the system’s pop-pop popcorn effect display entirely.
I was about to open my mouth and say something cutting to Han Sung-woo, who still stood before me with that infuriatingly blank expression, when another voice cut in first.
“You need to rinse that out.”
“What?”
Lee Yu-gun, whose face showed he couldn’t care less about my and Han Sung-woo’s little power struggle, casually handed the empty bento box back to Han Sung-woo.
“Rinse it out. And peel off all the stickers.”
His tone was light, but when it came from Lee Yu-gun—a delinquent-looking guy who towered well over six feet—the weight behind those words landed differently. Even the cocky Han Sung-woo seemed taken aback.
“Why should I rinse it?”
“Haven’t you ever separated your trash? That’s how it’s supposed to be done.”
“Who said anything about rinsing a bento box…! I’ll just throw it away!”
“Class A has always done it that way. Even when you were in Class A, hyung, you always did.”
There wasn’t a hint of malice in Lee Yu-gun’s innocent tone, yet Han Sung-woo found himself glancing nervously at the Staff Members around us, biting his lip. Lee Yu-gun, his expression unmoved, thrust the bento box toward Han Sung-woo once more.
“Should I rinse it for you?”
“…No, it’s fine. I guess I didn’t know. I’ll go rinse it.”
As the other trainees who’d finished eating began drifting over, Han Sung-woo quickly backed down, apparently not wanting to escalate things. Watching him nervously take the bento box and leave left a bitter taste in my mouth.
‘But I didn’t rinse my bento box either.’
So that’s why he told me to leave it? Because we don’t know each other well enough for him to ask me to rinse it? I found myself oddly curious about Lee Yu-gun, who’d ended the power struggle so anticlimactically.
I brushed the sauce off my hands and asked him.
“Does the Special Class really rinse all their bento boxes before throwing them away?”
“No, that was a lie.”
“Huh?”
“That guy’s annoying when he’s around. I just wanted to get him to leave.”
…What the hell is this kid doing?
“Aren’t you on the same team as him? Won’t things get awkward?”
“Well, not really…. It’s not like I’m going to debut anyway.”
“What did you just say?”
“If you’re not going to clean up, you should leave too. You’re blocking the other kids from throwing their stuff away.”
Lee Yu-gun gestured with his chin toward the other trainees standing awkwardly behind me with their empty bento boxes. Faced with this clear dismissal, I had no choice but to stand up, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest.
‘…Did he just say he’s not going to debut?’
You’ve been stuck in the Special Class with lacking stats this whole time, and now you’re backing out saying you won’t even debut?
‘This is definitely strange.’
What does he know? Or….
[Single Quest 02.]
‘I’m the crazy one in this territory!’
Content: You, who have entered (will enter) Miro.
Overcome the suffocating politics and interference that unfolds within,
meet colleagues who can help you and successfully debut.
(Removing hidden bombs may lower regression trigger possibility and increase Quest success rate)
Remaining time limit: 6 months.
Success reward: Clues for tracking the regressor
Failure penalty: 85% increase in 5th regression trigger possibility
‘If it means I’ll regress anyway, so it doesn’t matter?’
Once recording ends, I need to meet Lee Do-ha and press him about Lee Yu-gun.
What the hell is that bastard doing?
* * *
“Damn it!”
After confirming the restroom was empty, Han Sung-woo let out a satisfying curse. The lunch box he’d been rinsing at the sink was already shoved carelessly into the restroom trash.
“Nothing’s going right, damn it….”
Had there ever been days like these where nothing went according to plan? At first, he’d easily become a trainee with the Executive Director’s backing and enjoyed all the Special Class benefits, and he’d dealt with guys who didn’t suit his taste readily enough.
“But why am I stuck here with those bastards…!”
When rumors of nepotism started spreading, he’d pinned them on Ju Eun-chan. He’d carefully looked after Ju Eun-chan, who was being thoroughly shunned according to public opinion, while building his own image well.
Because of Ji Su-ho’s position, he couldn’t be placed directly in Miro’s next debut group, so the Executive Director had already arranged to start a separate company and take him along.
“It’s all because of that bastard.”
But ever since Kang Ha-jin arrived, nothing had gone right. How was he supposed to deal with that eyesore?
Even when he complained to Yoon CP, he just said it didn’t matter as long as he didn’t debut, spouting comfortable nonsense.
-After all, the public only sees the broadcast. No matter how well you do in recording, if they edit it out, what difference does it make? Would Miro even want to take a rookie trainee with poor viewer reactions?
The first broadcast wasn’t far off. Han Sung-woo decided to just endure until then. Yeah, just until then….
“Oh my, my apologies.”
The one who boldly entered the restroom and shattered Han Sung-woo’s soliloquy was the source of all this trouble—Kang Ha-jin.
Ha-jin, holding a school uniform shirt splattered with sauce and kitchen detergent from who knows where in both hands, entered the restroom wearing only a black t-shirt underneath, his voice dripping with irritation.
“I didn’t realize you were crying alone. How insensitive of me to just barge in.”
“Who said I was crying?”
“Well, you were taking forever washing that lunch box. Just thought I’d check.”
Ha-jin grinned smoothly and shrugged his shoulders. Then, using his long limbs, he reached the sink next to Han Sung-woo in just a few steps.
Whether genuinely to wash the shirt sleeves or not, he spread the uniform shirt on the sink and began squeezing kitchen detergent onto it.
“Ugh, so low.”
As he bent at the waist, the silver necklace he’d tucked inside his short-sleeved shirt jingled and became visible outside the t-shirt. The necktie he’d casually draped over his pants waistband instead of a belt swayed with his movements.
Though he didn’t want to admit it, that cool atmosphere and the sharp lines of his profile were enviable.
‘Why am I thinking like this while looking at that bastard?’
In that moment, as I meticulously applied dish soap to my shirt sleeves, I turned on the restroom sink. The water cascaded down with a rushing sound that echoed through the small space. I washed my long, delicate hands free of the soapy residue, a quiet laugh escaping my lips.
“But hyung, are you really trying to intimidate me like this right now?”
“….”
“Looks like you’re confident about today’s competition?”
That smile—the way his lips curled upward—always left a bitter taste. It conveyed a blend of playfulness and confidence, a casual certainty that he could see right through me, as if nothing about me remained a mystery to him.
That smile was like a warning: you will never cross the line that defines Kang Ha-jin.
“‘Blue’… it’s a good song. For someone like you, the difficulty isn’t even that high. Your team members aren’t bad either, so it’s fitting for the finale stage.”
The water continued to rush—shhhhhh—even though I’d finished washing my hands. I hadn’t turned off the tap yet. The forceful sound reverberated through the restroom.
“But hyung, do you know why I gave you the last slot?”
It was around then that Han Sung-woo felt something twist tightly inside him. An unidentifiable creature seemed to crawl through his body, wearing the names of tension and pressure like a second skin.
What is this? What the hell is this disgusting feeling?
“Warm up your voice well, hyung. Stop shouting. If you hit a wrong note, how embarrassing would that be? You’re still the main vocalist of your group, after all.”
I tidied my hair lightly while looking in the mirror, then flashed a bright smile at Sung-woo. Strip away the barbs hidden in those words, and what remained was nothing but the encouragement and concern of a colleague before a competition.
But Sung-woo understood. He understood what those barbs meant, and he understood the strange, unpleasant sensation crawling through his body.
“Nobody likes being compared, right?”
The fact that the order-drawing game had been framed as a “main vocalist showdown,” the fact that I’d chosen the second slot so that Sung-woo’s team could be placed last—it all made sense now.
“Handling the original song is already exhausting. If we’re compared to the other team on top of that, how draining would that be?”
Jeong Si-u, who’d earned lavish praise from the mentors for his perfect vocal technique. Kang Ha-jin, who’d properly delivered even that difficult original song and earned the original artist’s recognition.
And then his own stage, coming after all the afterglow of that performance had faded away.
“Ugh, survival shows are really tough, honestly. Right?”
Click—I turned off the tap. Then I dried my wet hands lightly on a paper towel and tossed the damp towel into the trash bin beside the sink. The same one where Sung-woo had shoved his lunch container.
“Fighting, hyung!”
I called out the encouragement in a bright voice and left the restroom without hesitation.
Left alone again, Sung-woo glanced down at his feet. A puddle of water—accumulated from who knows when—was slowly soaking the soles of his shoes.
“…Damn it, seriously.”
It was a sense of defeat. In Han Sung-woo’s life, where victory had always been secured before the fight even began, this was the first time he’d ever felt such a strange, unfamiliar defeat.
* * *
After passing Sung-woo, I peeled off the paper that had been stuck to the restroom door. It bore the words “No Entry Except Production Staff” alongside the Miro Maze title logo.
“Unlucky bastard.”
I lightly reattached the paper to the Assistant Director’s Room door where it had originally been, then hurried back to the Waiting Room. A blue system window materialized before my eyes.
[System Notification: The system expresses admiration for the attitude of the merciless fixed regressor.]
[System Notification: Scary person…. ((ノдヽ))]
“What did I do?”
I just applied appropriate pressure. That’s all.
Did I curse him out? Did I resort to violence?
He just needs to perform well on stage and come down. Why blame me?
“Hyung, come in quick. They said recording’s about to start.”
“Hyung! Hurry up!”
Seo Tae-hyun and Dan Ha-ru, apparently sent to find me on the assistant director’s orders, stood at the end of the hallway calling out to me. Behind them, I could see Ju Eun-chan emerging from another restroom after brushing his teeth.
‘At least those guys are the ones whose dreams nearly got completely shattered because of Han Sung-woo.’
Anyone can dream.
Being born with a silver spoon in a capitalist society, holding every advantage in the palm of your hand? I have no intention of criticizing that. If that’s your own ability, then so be it.
‘But there’s no reason to cheer for those who trample on others’ lives and use them as nourishment for their own dreams, is there?’
I walked forward in silence, my pace quickening. I gave appropriate responses to Seo Tae-hyun and Dan Ha-ru as they nagged about how I’d somehow gotten my shirt soaked.
It was only hours later that Han Sung-woo would commit a catastrophic mistake on the finale stage of Undulation—two instances of singing off-key due to extreme tension and three instances of lyrical stumbling.

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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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