Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 31

Chapter 31. First Monthly Evaluation (3)

With one week left until the monthly evaluation—
when we should’ve been practicing nonstop—

I was at a café.

“…Are you under a lot of stress?”

Across from me sat Ji Suho, who looked like he’d lost five kilos juggling the director fallout, HR chaos, monthly evaluations, and survival-show prep all at once.

“Huh?”

“You do realize you just downed an entire iced chocolate in one gulp, right?”

Ah. Did I?

Suho said it while setting down the cake we’d ordered, his face genuinely worried. I scratched my forehead awkwardly. He even slid an iced tea toward me—like he’d ordered it in advance because he knew.

I’m not that addicted to sugar…

“I was just thirsty.”

“Then should I take the iced tea back?”

“…Actually, I might be a little stressed.”

I grabbed his wrist before he could pull it away.

That’s cheap. You can’t take back something you already gave.

Suho stared at me for a second, then sighed and let go. He even pushed the cake plate closer with a look of pity.

“Well… it is your first monthly evaluation. That’s why I scheduled this meeting.”

Meeting Ji Suho—one of the judges—right before evaluation could look suspicious, but today had an official label:

Pre-evaluation counseling.

Basically: checking trainees’ mental state before we got thrown into survival mode. Our first broadcast exposure was coming soon.

“Preparation going okay?” Suho asked. “I heard you’re the team leader.”

“Well… depends what you mean by ‘okay.’”

I stirred the now-empty iced chocolate with my straw, bullying the last ice cubes.

He already knew how we were doing. We uploaded practice videos to the company cloud regularly for feedback. Still, he pretended he didn’t.

“I heard you had a midterm check.”

“…Yeah.”

“I also heard it wasn’t pretty.”

See? He knew.

“No point hiding it.”

“Mm.”

“We got absolutely wrecked.”

I grabbed the iced tea and downed it in one shot, remembering that disaster.

* * *

The midterm evaluation was done with all trainees present.

The purpose was obvious:
watch other teams get praised and panic, watch other teams get ripped apart and panic harder.

And our team?

We were the public sacrifice.

• “I don’t even know what I’m looking at right now.”

• “…”

• “Hajin. Answer me. Can you finish this in a week? You’re the one who insisted on this, right?”

The choreography trainer’s irritated voice cut through the room.

And honestly?

We deserved it.

Doha hadn’t even mastered half the dance break.
Gong Seok was barely surviving the full choreo.
Taehee’s live vocals were shaky as hell.

From any angle, we were incomplete.

• “You guys could’ve at least hit average if you stuck to what you’re good at. Why are you doing this?”

• “Doha, why are you suddenly pushing dance? Just do what you’ve always done.”

• “You think this is the time to experiment right before survival?”

He roasted us.

Hard.

We performed four minutes.
We got yelled at for twenty.

When we went back to our spots, I realized it was a deliberate example beating—
but by then, my teammates’ mental states were already shattered.

• “I told you it was too much! This is all because of Hajin-hyung!”

• “Should we change the stage now?”

• “You all agreed to it! Just work harder!”

I spent the next hour stitching morale back together with my bare hands.

The one saving grace?

Lee Doha.

He was weirdly calm.

• “Let’s just practice.”

• “But Doha—!”

• “We got yelled at because it wasn’t finished. So we finish it.”

Then he quietly dragged Wonho to the side and drilled the dance break until their legs looked ready to snap.

The guy with the hardest assignment was working the hardest.

After that, nobody could complain.

Back to the Café

“It’s fine,” I told Suho. “We planned to eat the midterm from the start.”

“You’re saying you can finish in a week?” Suho frowned. “Especially Doha doing the dance break… I’m worried. You know he’s always—”

“I know,” I cut in. “He usually raps in the back. Minimal choreo.”

“….”

“But isn’t that ridiculous? He’s training to be an idol.”

That thought had been stuck in my head since day one.

An idol trainee who doesn’t dance?

“Until now, maybe you let it slide because he’s too valuable to lose. ‘Just rap. Just compose.’” I shrugged. “But survival’s starting soon. That excuse has to graduate.”

Suho stayed quiet.

“Don’t worry,” I added. “They’ll make it. I once coached a youth performance team worse than this and still won awards.”

This stage was built on one condition:

If it’s complete, it works.

Suho blinked at me.

“Hajin… what did you even do in your past life?”

“A little of everything.”

“The only thing you haven’t done is debut as an idol?”

“Which is why I’m doing it this life.”

I stood, stabbed a huge forkful of cake, swallowed it, and gave a small bow—

Then leaned back like I suddenly remembered something.

“But if you’re still worried… there is a practical way you can help.”

“…Go on.”

“Care to swipe your card?”

Hyung’s bringing snacks.

* * *

Back at practice.

Wonho was drilling the dance break with Doha.
Taehee and Gong Seok were locked in the vocal room.

In the empty studio, only breathing, footsteps, and Wonho’s occasional gasps filled the air.

“One, two—jump!”

“—!”

“Hyung! That was clean! You landed it!”

“…Ah.”

Doha could land it cleanly once every ten tries now.

Just the movements.

Expression? Interpretation?

Still miles away.

But he was getting there.

And Wonho—of all people—looked genuinely excited.

“You should rest,” Wonho said. “Dance eats stamina.”

“…Thanks.”

Wonho froze.

“Did I just get thanked by a former Special Class member?”

Doha sat down, legs trembling.

Wonho handed him water.

“…Can I be honest?”

“Go ahead. Just don’t say I suck.”

“…You joke now?”

“I’m serious. My morale’s fragile.”

Wonho swallowed.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He hesitated.

“…I actually think this stage is fun.”

“….”

“You too, right?” Wonho pressed. “The dance break.”

Doha paused mid-drink.

Wonho kept going, voice quieter.

“I was regular class. Getting to choreograph to your song—that’s not something I ever expected.”

“…We’re both trainees.”

“Yeah, but… if not for this evaluation, we wouldn’t even be talking.”

“…True.”

Wonho exhaled.

“Honestly, I thought it was insane when Hajin-hyung asked me to choreograph. If it failed, I’d get blamed.”

“….”

“But doing it…” Wonho laughed awkwardly. “It feels like I’m actually an idol trainee.”

He stared at the floor.

“I used to think survival wasn’t even for people like us. But now…”

“Feels possible?” Doha finished.

“…Yeah.”

Wonho almost said it—

Even if we don’t make Top 10, this is enough.

But he swallowed it.

Saying that would mean surrendering before fighting.

“…I feel the same,” Doha said quietly.

Wonho blinked.

“I never thought I could dance like this.”

“That’s brutal self-criticism, hyung.”

“I also realized…” Doha stared at the screen. “I limited my composing because I assumed I couldn’t dance.”

They stretched in silence.

Then—

“Wonho.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll do well at the evaluation.”

“…!”

“It’s your choreography.”

“….”

“Thank you.”

Wonho’s throat tightened.

Before he could answer—

The studio door slammed open.

“CAKE DELIVERY—!!!”

Hajin stood there like a returning general, cake boxes stacked in both hands, Gong Seok and Taehee hooked under his arms like prisoners of war.

The room exploded back into noise.

Watching Doha stand up and quietly join them—

Wonho felt something swell in his chest.

One week before the monthly evaluation.