02. Find the Regressor
02. Find the Regressor
"Hajin."
"Yes."
"Are you okay?"
Describe in five words your feelings when the homeroom teacher from your senior year of high school — the one you'd assumed you'd never see again after he retired and emigrated overseas — looks at you with a worried expression and demands an explanation for the blank college-preference form you turned in.
"I'm sorry."
"No, I'm not scolding you… I'm just worried."
Yes, teacher. My fifth-round life with that bastard Selected Regressor is worrying and unsettling day in and day out, sir — I crammed the answer back down my throat and gave an awkward nod. Smile, Kang Hajin. Smile.
"Is doing a retake year… hitting you hard right now?"
"No, sir. It's really not that."
"Then what? You've been off lately — quiet, hardly saying anything."
I shot a sidelong glare at the culprit that had been giving me a headache for the past three days, plastered on my grown-up social smile, and picked my answer.
"I'm definitely coming down with a bad cold."
Only after he'd convinced the teacher — this isn't like him, he must really be sick — and secured permission to leave early could he finally clear his head.
Yeah, this really wasn't the time to be doing this.
He looked up at a sky so blue it took him back to that day. He didn't need a mirror to picture how thickly his face was slathered with resignation and helplessness.
"…Missions, display."
With a dazed face and a limp voice, he summoned the culprit behind this whole mess.
Mission List BQ 01. Find the Regressor! SQ 01. In Search of a Lost Dream Please select a mission to view."Bring up both."
title: Basic Quest 01. 'Find the Regressor!' description: You have been designated as the Mentor of a Selected Regressor. Find the Selected Regressor and stop the regressions. reward: Young & Rich & Tall & Handsome"If it were just Young & Rich, at least…"
He'd have to do this either way, so fine. Getting wealth and fame on top of it? Thank you very much. And frankly, when you're staring down three rounds of military service, without a reward like that, forget "mentor" — the second he met the Regressor he might have grabbed the kid by the collar and demanded to know what the fuck they'd done to his life.
Fine, set that aside.
The problem was what came next.
title: Single Quest 01. 'In Search of a Lost Dream' description: The fastest way to untangle a snarled thread is to find where it starts. Become an idol trainee within the time limit. limit: 57 days (base 60 days) reward: Access pass to clues for tracking the regressions penalty: 5th regression probability +45%Wait, this was an idol story?
Getting a system window and quests at last was cause to celebrate with both arms in the air, but the genre of his life shifting was not something to be happy about.
"Let's fire up the delusion engine, Kang Hajin. At least you're not hunting monsters."
Right, thank god it wasn't a hunter novel — but demanding he pass the idol-trainee audition in two months, when most people took two years just to have a shot? The more he thought about it, the more the anger built in him by degrees.
And on top of that — a penalty? Forty-five percent was practically half.
"So if I fail this, I regress again?"
What the hell kind of daze is this so-called Selected Regressor even in?
Sugar. He needed sugar. On instinct, he pulled out the chocolate bar he'd stashed in his bag, bit down on it, and hummed a tune. A dazed, defeated melody drifted through the air.
"I've lost my way…"
Yeah, when you're at the end of your rope, this song was always the go-to…
An idol? Sure, he'd dreamed about it.
He'd loved singing since he was a kid. Loved dancing, too. On stage? He'd flown. Even he had to admit he was born for it. At some point, wanting to be a singer had become the natural next step — and that dream had lasted exactly ten years.
—Hajin's voice sticks out too much on its own. And the volume's too loud.
—Hmm… it's a little iffy.
—Have you thought about switching tracks? At this rate, when are you ever going to debut?
Would it have helped if I'd figured out earlier that "unremarkable" and "untalented" were a hair's breadth apart?
People always said I was good, but the chances never came to me. That was just how it always went. Was I short on passion? Not talented enough? Not disciplined enough? The way opportunities kept slipping past me started to eat away at me from the inside.
—Hajin, come on. Let's try one more time.
—……
—They said they see potential in you, at least.
Potential. Potential? Maybe the truth was that I didn't have the confidence to prove myself.
—No. I'm done.
So I gave up the dream. I needed somewhere I could prove myself and be recognized.
Anyway, all that sentimentality was pointless now. If they told me to do it, I did it — otherwise, hello, fifth regression. I shook off the brief spell of nostalgia and came back to reality. I hunted down that outdated cell phone I still couldn't get used to and got online.
〈male idol, audition, agency〉
I couldn't go through the military three times. Absolutely not.
My final list came down to three.
Miro — a mid-tier agency known as a mecca for male idols
Rene — indisputably one of Korea's Big 3 agencies
Lime — an agency specializing in solo artists
I'd taken the characteristics, rosters, audition dates, and application periods of every domestic agency that came up in the search, laid it all out in an Excel sheet, and screened for the ones that met my criteria.
Thank god the sheet-organizing chops from group projects hadn't gone anywhere.
There was one agency I'd been personally fond of, but they'd just debuted a new male group not that long ago, so unfortunately I had to cross them off. Judging by the layout, the next mission would be to debut, and that delicate-little-flower {Selreg}(#9pi36yjuyxs8) (I didn't know what to call the Selected Regressor bastard, so I just decided on a nickname of my own) was not going to sit around waiting until that agency put out another male group.
Since I was leaning on old chops, I dug into my old office chops too and combed through every social feed and community board I could find — and word had it those three places were either right up against launching their next group, or down to hunting for the last member.
"So does it not matter which one I go to?"
Was Selreg already a trainee? It was too early on to have any clues. The nearest audition was this coming weekend, an open audition at Rene, one of the Big 3. With that many applicants, slipping in to feel things out wouldn't be a bad move. I ran through the general aesthetic of the agency's idols and started thinking up a setlist.
That said — it had only been a year since I'd sworn off wanting to be a singer. What was I supposed to tell Mom?
"Seoul?"
"Yeah, just heading out with a friend."
"Which friend?"
"…Uh, Kyunghyun."
"All right, have fun. Do you have money?"
"Yeah, yeah, I've still got allowance left."
I stalled for a beat trying to remember which friend I actually hung out with in this era, but Mom seemed to buy it. Since the audition was clearly going to be a wash, better to hedge than get her worked up over nothing.
I typed the application out hunt-and-peck-style behind my kid brother's back — we shared a room — and not long after I got the standard confirmation text. I kept having to fight the reflex to fill in "college" under highest education completed, or write about my "career goals after joining the company" under motivation for applying. It nearly did me in.
Hold it together, Kang Hajin. You're a fresh-faced nineteen. Nineteen — the age where even sticking flowers in your hair still passes as youthful eccentricity.
〈Rene Ent Open Audition Notice〉
I stepped out of the house, reviewing the text with the address, schedule, and rules one more time. Sitting on the subway, listening to my audition song through earbuds, I opened the file where I'd sorted my research by agency and pulled up the Rene Ent sheet.
〈[Rene Ent]
Artists: Kateon, Sphere, Themis, Lunaland (etc.)
Overview: One of Korea's Big 3 agencies. With Sphere — currently at the top of the game — approaching their military hiatus, they urgently need to debut their next male group.
Priorities: The complete-package idol. ★Looks, presence, and star quality matter most.★〉
Like most of Rene's idols, Sphere had firmly cemented their place as an undisputed top-tier male idol group in Korea. All but one member had re-signed and were still active, but with the eldest members already scheduled to enlist next year, debuting the next male group was becoming urgent.
Some ten years down the line — back in his first life (he still hadn't gotten used to that phrasing) — a nine-member group would debut under the name Lennon or something like that, and there'd been a lot of noise about how the agency had rushed and thrown every trainee they had into the debut to hurry things along.
He tried to recall when exactly that group had debuted and who the members were, then shut off his phone. He'd analyzed it thoroughly, occupational hazard and all, but honestly…
'Debuting here would fuck me.'
There was talk that Sphere had blown up so big that Rene got greedy and dragged its feet on the next group, and that Rene — famously stubborn about keeping groups small even when the whole industry was chasing massive lineups — had drawn a lot of skepticism for finally putting out their first nine-member group. But once the first teaser dropped, the idol scene lost its mind — of course it was Rene.
[Rene Ent's next boy group visuals.jpg]
[the new Renez faces are unreal]
[Rene, these lunatics — we asked for a male idol group and they brought us actual gods]
When your nickname was "the Greek Marble Boys" — did I even need to say more?
Faces? Rene. That group had been a living reminder of that ancient truth in the idol world. I stole a glance at my own reflection in the black screen and had to physically shudder before I set the phone down.
'I don't think I'm ugly, but… I'm not on their level.'
Getting in as a trainee might not be impossible with a bit of luck, but debuting? Almost certainly out of reach. Not that I planned on phoning in the audition anyway…
I was thinking that when someone approached and spoke to me.
"Um, hi there."
"Yes, I already believe in the Way."
"Huh?"
"It means we're fellow disciples, so please move along."
Best way to handle a cult approach is to shut it down at the source. I didn't care what expression the person was making — clearly not the reaction they were expecting — as I stood up with a well-practiced social smile.
Before I knew it, I was there.
"Yes, next."
"Kids these days really are… younger than they used to be, or something."
Chief Jang of Rene Ent's New Talent Development team took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.
"I'm not asking for the moon here — I just wish somebody could do something about all the posturing."
The sigh carried a faint edge of exhaustion. Damn TV shows had ruined these kids. He'd sunk his career into New Talent Development because he loved the passion of kids chasing their dreams, but among the kids dreaming of "idol life," fewer than a quarter actually dreamed of being idol singers.
"Everybody's too busy winking and sticking their tongue out. Nobody's singing."
Rene might have a reputation for weighing looks heavily, but they weren't out to sign hollow statues. Skill could be taught later, so yes — appearance, the one thing effort couldn't fix, carried the most weight. But at the very least a candidate had to give some sense of the picture they'd make on stage. Otherwise, how were they supposed to sign anyone?
"That kid earlier — number 53 — sang pretty well, though."
"Did you catch the vocal tricks he was pulling? That stuff doesn't come out even if you teach it. He already knows he can sing and he's fallen in love with the sound of his own voice."
"Ah. Like Jeonghyeok?"
Jeonghyeok was a vocalist trainee currently clinging to a barely-there spot in the next male idol debut lineup. Chief Jang nodded, brow drawing together.
"Jeonghyeok — that kid, if he could just drop that stubbornness of his, we could actually slot him in as main vocal."
"Yeah, I know."
"Where are the kids who just sing clean? Honestly, auditions have lost all their fun."
Right then the next candidate walked in.
"Hello. Number 71."
Chief Jang, who'd been half-slumped in his chair, pulled himself up slightly. A calm curtain of black hair, cool, long, single-lidded eyes — not bad. And clear skin, for a high-school boy? His interest piqued, Chief Jang looked over the application.
"I'll begin."
The voice was calm — none of the hesitation typical of audition candidates, no sign of nerves — and Chief Jang could feel the anticipation from the staff sitting beside him. Then, unaccompanied, the song began.
I could never forget you
A scar, a mark
I'll carry my whole life, unable to erase
Those shattered pieces of time —
can I call them happiness?
Can I?
Would I dare?
The song number 71 had chosen was a drama OST, originally sung during her rookie days by Ria — currently pursuing a solo career — the main vocalist of Themis.
A ballad from a few years back that had blown up so hard it still came up now and then in conversations about all-time great OSTs.
Countless people had tried to cover it — the song demanded a ceaseless back-and-forth between sustained high notes and lower registers, with the emotional thread never breaking — but nobody had surpassed Ria. And yet…
'He's really pulling this off?'
Chief Jang spun his pen once, sharply, at the impressively clean climb into the high notes, then felt a jolt of thrill at the way the trainee wove his breath naturally into the descent to a lower register — yes, that's it! —
He'd been all high notes at first, so Chief Jang had assumed the boy had a high range — but as he came down into the lower register, a deep, groove-heavy tone came to life. Chief Jang gripped number 71's application in his hand as the boy calmly finished the final line, keeping his face expressionless on the outside while inside he was thinking:
'Holy shit, jackpot.'