Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 30
Chapter 30. First Monthly Evaluation (2)
“Whoa—finally!”
Yoon Taehee, who had been waiting for the song more desperately than anyone (and had nearly died of boredom during boost camp), reacted first. He practically lunged forward like a starving predator.
Why aren’t you playing it right now?!
No reason to drag it out.
I hit play.
From the speaker connected to my phone, the completed track Lee Doha had carved out of his body and soul over the past week filled the room.
Ooh—, Woah—
The strings remained as the main instrument—but their role had changed.
What used to carry the melody had transformed into a rough, powerful chant-like hook. The layered strings now reinforced sub-melodies, filling the empty spaces in the beat and expanding the song’s scale.
Start—our brilliant scenario
A knight slicing through the night, the one who wished for a new morning—into the streets
“Huh? That voice—”
Taehee, sharp-eared as ever, reacted instantly.
“This isn’t Doha-hyung.”
He turned slowly.
“…Hyung. Is this you?”
“Yeah.”
“What—You sang it?!”
“…That was one of the arrangement conditions.”
I nodded, imagining Doha passed out somewhere in a hibernation-level coma.
On the first day of rearranging, he had stumbled out of his studio for water, grabbed me, and said:
“I can’t sing it.”
“Huh?”
“I hear it in my head. But I can’t execute it. So you do the guide vocal.”
“…Ah. Sure. Not Gong Seok-hyung?”
“No. Not him.”
He’d been unusually firm.
So I agreed.
I’d never done guide vocals before.
It was… surprisingly fun.
“Wow… this is crazy good.”
“I’ve never heard Doha-hyung make something this intense.”
“Seriously… this is insane.”
The trio—formerly known as the Hopeless Three—clapped like they’d discovered treasure.
Objectively?
It was good.
While working on it, Doha’s composition trait had jumped about 5%.
Five percent in one week.
That’s absurd.
There’s definitely some hidden mechanic behind that—but I’ll figure it out later.
“Ah! Doha-hyung!”
The practice room door opened.
Doha shuffled in, looking like he’d just crawled out of a cave after winter.
Not a trainee.
A bear mid-hibernation.
“Hey. Good work.”
“Our ace!”
“Why are you here? You should’ve slept more.”
“I’m fine.”
He absolutely was not fine.
Dark circles. Pale skin. Soul halfway detached.
I told him to rest, but—
He’s a different breed of workaholic.
“So now we practice with this?”
“Wait… but we still don’t have choreography.”
Gong Seok and Taehee looked at me anxiously.
We’d already burned a full week on production.
Gong Seok probably thought we were about to learn full choreography in three days and die.
That would never happen.
“The choreography’s done.”
“…What?”
I patted Kim Wonho’s back.
Kim Wonho (Miro)
Vocals: 89% (Rap 34%)
Dance: 62%
Expression: 92%
Special: Choreography Creation (86%)
Appeal: Fast learner
If you don’t use 86% choreography creation, you’re an idiot.
“Our Wonho already made it. Applause.”
“Haha… Hajin-hyung told me not to say anything.”
“Since when?!”
“Early mornings. After practice. Bit by bit. The back half isn’t fully polished though.”
Wonho looked like he wanted to disappear from embarrassment.
But he’d suffered almost as much as Doha.
Let them take the praise.
After the excitement settled, I continued.
“We’re going to watch the full version with choreography. Mark the parts you want. Mark the parts you’re unsure about. I’ll adjust accordingly.”
“You’ll actually adjust this time?” Taehee muttered.
“Doha kindly explained why your ideas were rejected.”
“…Tch.”
I ignored him and played the video.
Since one person can’t demonstrate full formation alone, Wonho danced assigned parts while I covered the others.
Inevitably, we overlapped.
“Ah. The dance break.”
“Not everyone’s doing it,” I explained. “Main vocal steps out for ad-libs. Four remain. Two perform the break.”
The concept was “losers’ rebellion.”
We needed one explosive climax moment.
I refused to dilute it.
Eyes started darting.
Who was going to do that acrobatic sequence?
Naturally, they all looked at Wonho.
“Can’t. That section builds into my solo.”
“….”
“And Hajin-hyung said if I help choreograph, I get one solo part.”
Now everyone looked at me.
“I can’t either. My height doesn’t match Taehee’s.”
“Ah. So I’m locked in?”
“Seok-hyung’s out.”
“Wait—then…”
Five members.
Three eliminated.
One confirmed.
That leaves—
“…Doha-hyung?”
“…Me?”
<System Alert: The system expresses considerable concern.>
“Doha.”
“….”
“Ever heard of a hellish boost camp?”
Lee Doha.
Dance break winner.
Later — Mirro Dorm
Jung Siwoo came out of the shower last and froze.
Doha was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at his tablet.
“What are you thinking about so hard?”
“Our monthly evaluation practice video.”
“Oh. Kang Hajin’s team?”
Doha nodded.
“I’m doing the dance break.”
“…What?”
Siwoo dropped his towel.
“Dance break?”
“Two-person.”
“With who?”
“Yoon Taehee.”
“…Did Kim Wonho break his legs?”
Siwoo genuinely couldn’t process it.
But Doha just shook his head.
Siwoo shifted direction.
“So. Kang Hajin. What’s he like?”
Doha went quiet.
He thought carefully before answering.
“He doesn’t look… not desperate.”
“…?”
“I don’t understand. He’s good. So why doesn’t he get greedy?”
Doha remembered earlier.
“I want main vocal.”
Gong Seok had spoken timidly.
Doha had frowned internally.
Hajin was clearly better suited.
But—
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“…Really?”
“There’s no reason you can’t.”
No hesitation.
No regret.
No territorial instinct.
Just genuine acceptance.
“But help check Taehee and Wonho’s vocals. I’ll be busy managing performance.”
It wasn’t seniority.
It wasn’t humility.
It was… indifference.
“He doesn’t look ambitionless,” Doha continued. “He volunteered as leader.”
“Does he lack confidence?”
“…About himself? Maybe.”
Siwoo shrugged.
“Or maybe the opposite.”
“The opposite?”
“Maybe he’s confident enough not to care.”
“….”
“If he believes he’ll make Top 10 regardless of dance break or main vocal… that’s terrifying confidence.”
Siwoo stood.
“Interesting kid.”
He left.
Doha replayed the choreography video again.
On screen, Hajin matched Wonho’s dance level.
Maybe even surpassed it.
“…Maybe.”
Doha muttered.
The night stretched long.
And full of thoughts.