Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut - Chapter 72

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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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72. Guess Who? (3)
While Ji Su-ho reeled from the shock as if he’d been struck in the back of the head with a baseball bat.
Kang Ha-jin wore a remarkably composed expression. Su-ho felt an inexplicable sense of betrayal, stammering no fewer than three times.
“Th, um, so th-that, w-well, I mean…. You’re l-lying…?”
“No, it’s true. Really, I came back to the past.”
Yet despite stammering three times, Ha-jin answered simply. And with a smile, no less.
As Su-ho’s lips trembled, searching for words while feeling thoroughly mocked, Ha-jin shrugged and continued.
“But whether it’s actually true and whether you believe it are two different things, Team Leader.”
Su-ho, about to protest that I was being toyed with, closed my mouth again.
Ha-jin was clearly smiling with his usual composure, yet something indescribable—a hint of loneliness—lingered at the edges of that smile.
Only then did Su-ho regain his senses, turning to Ha-jin with an accusatory tone.
“Why did you tell me if you didn’t even know whether I’d believe you? What if I treated you like a crazy person?”
“Team Leader, you’re asking a lot of questions today.”
“As I said, I need to know. I need to understand what kind of person the artist I’m managing is.”
Su-ho was curious about Ha-jin.
At first, it had merely been a casting to counter the Executive Director,
and when they learned each other’s secrets, I thought we were now inextricably bound to the same ship.
And after witnessing Ha-jin’s performances several times, I now harbored a small dream as a manager.
“That’s what it means to be a manager. No matter what happens, I have to be on my artist’s side.”
A dream of seeing this person shine brighter on a larger stage.
“I believe you, Kang Ha-jin. I believe everything you say.”
Su-ho offered a rare, genuine smile.
To pursue that dream, I first needed to earn the complete trust of this person called Kang Ha-jin.
With Ha-jin still watching me silently, Su-ho continued in a measured voice.
“I’m saying I’m on your side, Kang Ha-jin. So if there’s anything you want to say, feel free to tell me anytime.”
“….”
“Honestly, I’m relieved. It’s comforting to have someone who knows my secret.”
Su-ho laughed, speaking lightly.
“You have no idea how shocked I was when I first saw light emanating from your body.”
“….”
“This is a secret, but honestly, in the beginning I went to counseling a few times and visited the hospital. In the end, I just got a diagnosis saying there was nothing wrong with me. I really thought I was losing my mind.”
“…I know that feeling.”
Ha-jin, who had been listening to Su-ho the whole time, let out a soft laugh and nodded.
“I thought I was dead and seeing my life flash before my eyes.”
“When you first came back to the past? I imagine that’s what it felt like.”
“I was definitely lying in bed just moments before, but when I came to my senses, I was in a High School exam. I thought I was dreaming.”
Ha-jin fell silent for a moment, as if recalling that time.
Su-ho waited patiently through that moment.
Ha-jin, who had been tapping the table with his fingers out of habit, opened his mouth again after several minutes had passed.
“…I was twenty-nine years old.”
“Pardon?”
“When I first regressed. I was twenty-nine, unemployed, and when I opened my eyes, I was seventeen again.”
With that opening, my story unfolded at an unhurried pace.
How I had arrived at this moment, living my fifth life after passing through four regressions.
I recounted my life sometimes concisely, sometimes with gravity.
Every word of it was difficult to believe, yet Ji Su-ho could accept it. In fact, he felt a strange relief wash over him now. It seemed he could finally begin to explain the impossible ability that had manifested within him.
“Then, the person you said you needed to find back then—that’s this person, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The one who made me live again four times over, and made you and others see those strange colors.”
“And that person is supposedly one of our company’s trainees right now….”
“That’s why I need you to share anything suspicious with me, Team Leader. I really, truly want no part of living a sixth life.”
As if utterly fed up, I shook my head and trembled. Ji Su-ho nodded in understanding.
There were still many questions and curiosities about this concept of “regression,” but it was obvious that even if he pressed further today, he wouldn’t grasp it all.
“Thank you for telling me.”
After hearing the full account, Ji Su-ho offered his honest impression. Now he felt he could finally see Kang Ha-jin as a person.
He understood why he seemed to draw such careful boundaries in everything he did.
‘Because everything could suddenly cease to exist one day.’
He had thought the ability to relive the past was an extraordinary opportunity, but it wasn’t quite so simple.
As those thoughts crossed his mind, I poured water into an empty cup and continued.
“…I’m grateful too.”
“For what?”
“For saying you’re on my side.”
Ah, there it was again.
That smile—tinged with an indescribable loneliness.
“Talking with you just now, I realized something. I think I’ve been quite lonely.”
“….”
“I lost everything. My friends, my dreams, the life I’d lived, my memories.”
“….”
“If you asked whether I want to go back to when I was twenty-nine, I’m not sure. But when I think that all those moments remain only with me, forever… sometimes it hurts.”
Because the mental care system was still functioning, recalling my past life felt like remembering something from the distant past.
But that didn’t mean all those memories simply ceased to exist.
“It was a life full of mistakes and regrets. Yet even in a life like that, there were things I missed.”
The day my whole family went on a trip together.
The friends I made anew in university.
The movies and songs that comforted me on difficult days.
The various episodes and happenings I experienced working at the company.
All of it remained only with me.
And sometimes, that made me profoundly lonely.
“Maybe that’s why. Why I kept telling you about my past life.”
“….”
“I suppose I just wanted to tell someone. That I lived such a life.”
Only then could Su-ho discern the reason for the loneliness that clung to Ha-jin.
Perhaps even if a lifetime passed, he would never fully understand Ha-jin.
No—perhaps no one in this world could ever completely comprehend his solitude.
‘Maybe someone like that Regression Chosen One could understand. But as an ordinary person, it’s impossible.’
Still, as an adult who had lived a little longer, couldn’t he at least offer some comfort?
Su-ho opened his mouth carefully.
“People are really something, aren’t they?”
“…?”
“You only realize it after you’ve been burned badly once. Ah, so this hurts. I shouldn’t touch this place. And after that, your body instinctively recoils at anything similar. Because you don’t want to be hurt again.”
Su-ho had never relived the past like Ha-jin had, but he too was someone who had been burned by the world and by people.
He understood well how someone wounded by something gnaws away at themselves, how they sever themselves from connection.
“But you know, after enough time passes… there comes a moment like this. Wouldn’t this much be okay? Wouldn’t this much warmth be worth enduring?”
“….”
“When that moment comes, you just try to bear it. Is this really true? If I keep holding on, will it hurt or not? Ah, maybe this much is actually okay. I can endure this. That’s how you learn—your own threshold for pain.”
Ha-jin’s expression grew bewildered at Su-ho’s seemingly abstract words. But Su-ho continued undeterred.
“Everyone is lonely, you know? A world without warmth.”
“…You’re not telling me to burn my hand on a gas flame, are you?”
“I’m saying don’t be so afraid of the hand someone extends to you.”
“….”
“I hope you won’t look at your life so coldly. Kang Ha-jin, you’re a passionate person. You have fire in you, you care about people, you love being on stage…”
Only then did Ha-jin seem to grasp Su-ho’s meaning, his pupils trembling slightly. Su-ho gazed at him and offered comfort with all the warmth he could muster.
“Isn’t it better to love without regret than to turn away from everything out of fear that it might disappear someday? You said you didn’t want a sixth life.”
“….”
“Now you have someone to talk to. If you want to speak of your past-life memories, tell me. But I really hope you’ll remember that the life you’re living right now, as Kang Ha-jin, is still your life.”
“….”
“If you truly find that person and your regression ends, then these moments will become your memories, your experiences, your history as Kang Ha-jin.”
This is advice from an older brother who cares about you.
With those words, Su-ho fell silent. Ha-jin seemed to be turning over his words in his mind.
Su-ho waited patiently through that silence.
Ha-jin probably didn’t even realize he was suffering from such a deep burn.
It would take considerable time before he recognized it, composed himself, and washed the wound clean in cool water.
‘That Tae-il kid has good instincts.’
He recalled something Tae-il had said about Ha-jin long ago.
-He said he worked at some company before?
-Yeah. It was such a startup that it doesn’t seem to exist anymore.
-…Did he get burned badly there?
-Why?
-The kid grew up too fast. For someone barely twenty, he thinks too much. At that age, it’s okay not to know some things.
Without knowing that Ha-jin had regressed, Tae-il had assessed him that way.
‘Right, you can’t underestimate the experience of someone thirteen years into their career.’
While Ji Su-ho made a silent vow not to speak carelessly about Kang Ha-jin in front of Tae-il, Kang Ha-jin seemed to have largely sorted through his thoughts. Watching the shadows lift somewhat from his expression, Ji Su-ho felt reassured.
“Did that help at all?”
“…Yes, well.”
“I’m glad.”
As Kang Ha-jin nodded, a knock sounded from beyond the door at just the right moment. Upon signaling them to enter, an employee carefully stepped into the room, pulling an elaborate tray behind them.
“I’ll prepare the meal for you.”
Dishes that looked both beautiful and delicious were placed one by one onto the table. As the traditional Korean spread filled the table so abundantly that the legs seemed to bow under the weight, Kang Ha-jin’s eyes suddenly gleamed with light as he grasped his chopsticks, the earlier shadows cast aside as if they’d never existed.
At the sight, Ji Su-ho felt a slight sense of disbelief.
“Is it just my imagination, or does it seem like all the trauma from before has been healed the moment you saw the food?”
“It’s just your imagination.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Our conversation just now provided sufficient comfort to my spirit, and now you’re even attending to my body’s satisfaction with such delicious food. I’m truly grateful.”
The way words flowed so smoothly showed he was back to his usual self.
Ji Su-ho couldn’t help but laugh at that smooth-talking flattery, shaking his head helplessly.
There was simply no way to deal with that glib tongue of his.
“Be honest with me—you’ve sold drugs in a past life, haven’t you?”
“If I’m being completely honest? You won’t be able to handle it.”
“…Why are you being so evasive just because I can’t confirm it?”
“But thank goodness I only sold them. If I’d used them instead, I never would’ve debuted as an idol.”
“…You really did sell them?”
“Did I? I’ve only ever taken cold medicine, so let’s drop this and eat.”
Watching Ji Su-ho genuinely relax at those words, Kang Ha-jin burst into hearty laughter. From that laughter onward, a slightly more comfortable atmosphere flowed between the two of them.
Since the regression began, this was the first moment Kang Ha-jin had completely opened his heart to someone.

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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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