Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Find the Lost Dream (2)

— — —

Right… it’s not like I didn’t see this coming.

Hajin squatted at the playground in front of the house, pressing his palms against his temples as he tried to cool his throbbing head and organize his thoughts.

He had rushed out in a hurry—wearing nothing but slippers.

His feet were so cold they felt like they might snap off.

He tugged his long padded coat down as far as it would go to cover his toes, but the cold still seeped upward like it had a personal grudge. He’d worn this coat for four years now.

…Maybe it was time to throw it away.

“Alright. Ten minutes. I’ll make a plan in ten minutes.”

His breath fogged in the air.

“System window. Sudden queh-st.”

His lips were half-frozen, so the pronunciation came out slurred. He zipped his collar tighter and stared at the translucent window that appeared before him.

< System Alert: Sudden Quest! >
Content: A child’s wound becomes a parent’s scar. Change your mother’s mind and have your rediscovered dream acknowledged.
Deadline: Linked to SQ 01 (D-53)
Failure Penalty: Probability of triggering a 5th regression +75%

“…?”

His eyes twitched.

The penalty had gone up.

He glared at the window for a long moment before exhaling sharply.

“What kind of life are you even living, you selected-regressor bastard…?”

At this point, he was genuinely worried about the mental stability of the mysterious regressor. No one reset their life four times without being pushed to the edge.

Even Hajin—armed with a so-called Mental Care System—felt his vision darken at the thought of another regression.

So how bad must it be for him?

“And the system… how desperate are you to label me ‘mentor’?”

He clicked his tongue.

“Still, isn’t this probability way too damn sunfish-level fragile?”

Two minutes gone.

Damn it. Eight left.

He forced his thoughts into order.

Studying is the easiest angle.

He had lived as his mother’s son for nineteen years. (Counting his past life, more like thirty-something.)

He knew her.

If he said something like, I’ll become a trainee and still get into a good Seoul university, that would be a valid opening. He could even show mock exam scores and numbers.

But—

It’s too slow.

The CSAT was over. He had two months to become a trainee.

“Studying while being a trainee” sounded noble. In reality, it meant burning both ends of your lifespan at once.

< System Alert: 5 minutes remaining! >

“…Thaaanks.”

His nose and cheeks were numb.

Think, Kang Hajin.

Hunger strike? Disqualified. Mom’s cooking is too good.

Running away from home? Look at me. I’d suffer like a stray dog. Disqualified.

Crying and throwing a tantrum? That stopped working when I was five and wanted a transforming robot. Disqualified.

“…I won’t. I won’t.”

Should he just let it regress?

Honestly, memorizing ten years’ worth of lottery numbers might be less stressful.

< System Alert: 3 minutes remaining! >
< System Alert: The Mental Care System is not invincible! >

“Now you’re butting in too? Fine. Do whatever.”

< System Alert: Request received. >

“…You really don’t understand Korean sarcasm.”

The Korean language patch was definitely incomplete.

Just then—

“Hyung. Mom says if you’re done with your ‘teen angst concept,’ come inside and eat.”

Hawon.

Still eighteen. Still small enough that Hajin couldn’t get used to seeing him this young again.

Looking at his soft face made something flare inside Hajin.

Right.

If I give up… you’ll end up going to the army three times too.

“What ‘concept’? I’m serious.”

“A serious person runs out like that?”

“Every step I took was filled with sincerity.”

“If that pathetic acting—‘Mom doesn’t understand anything~!’—was sincere, then you’re hopeless.”

Secondhand embarrassment hit like a truck.

“…You don’t know anything.”

“Hyung-nim. What battle are you fighting alone?”

“This is war.”

A war against re-enlistment. Against repeated exams. Against endless regression.

Hawon’s voice softened.

“Hyung… Mom’s been thinking a lot.”

“….”

“And Dad’s situation, too.”

Unemployed.

This was that winter.

The winter before things turned around.

Hajin knew the future—Dad would pass an interview next year. Their lives would stabilize. But right now, this semi-basement was a frozen tunnel.

“I wanted to get a part-time job,” Hawon muttered. “But they won’t let me.”

Something in Hajin snapped into place.

“Hawon.”

“What.”

“Do what you want. And do it seriously.”

“….”

“That’s how you help Mom and Dad.”

Silence.

Hajin stood up. His legs trembled from cold, but something inside tightened like a rope pulled taut.

I have to stop this regression.

I can’t leave my family stuck in this winter forever.

“Hawon.”

“Ah, what now?”

“Hyung’s going to become an idol in this life.”

“…How are you going to get Mom to allow it?”

< System Alert: 10 minutes have ended! >

“There’s a way, idiot.”

He said he’d make a plan in ten minutes.

He did.

Youngin watched her son carefully.

He’d been too quiet lately.

It unsettled her.

After announcing he wanted to try becoming a trainee again, he had… done nothing dramatic. Instead, he ate two bowls of rice and volunteered to wash dishes.

He’d been doing more housework too.

Suspiciously obedient.

‘…Is that his plan?’

Truthfully, she wanted to say: You only live once. Do everything you want.

But vague encouragement could become a burden.

She remembered that day vividly.

— Stop talking about “potential.”

— Mom… sometimes I’m scared of my ordinary future. I’m scared you’ll be disappointed.

Blind faith had made her child afraid.

So when he mentioned idols again, fear tightened around her chest.

The finances. The unstable winter. His age.

She couldn’t let him break himself again.

“Mom.”

Youngin looked up at Hawon’s awkward voice.

“What is it?”

“Hyung said… come to the room. Dad’s there too.”

“…Why?”

Hawon shrugged.

Something was definitely off.

She entered the bedroom.

Her husband was already seated.

“Hajin?”

“Honey, sit. He’s doing something.”

Hajin stood in front of the computer, back in his school uniform, posture unnaturally straight.

“Mother. Father.”

“…Since when did you start calling us that?”

Ignoring his father’s stare, Hajin clicked the mouse.

“From this point forward, I will begin Kang Hajin’s Life Plan Presentation.”

The screen lit up with a sleek PowerPoint slide and dramatic transition effects.

Youngin blinked.

“Before I explain the plan, I believed it necessary to analyze my current assets and achievements.”

Slide.

“This is a SWOT analysis of my strengths and weaknesses.”

Clean layout. Large fonts. Minimal clutter. The design was painfully tailored to their tastes.

Hawon leaned toward their father.

“…Hyung’s using cheat codes.”

“I can hear you.”

Hajin continued smoothly.

Slides covered mock exam scores, target university ranges, admissions strategies based on real counseling data, extracurricular alignment.

He didn’t rush.

He didn’t dramatize.

He presented.

“And finally,” Hajin said, clicking to the next slide, “Miro Entertainment.”

Logos. Company growth graphs. Revenue trends. Debut timelines.

“I have analyzed their artist pipeline, financial trajectory, and debut cycle. Based on this, I believe the risk is controlled.”

His father was already half-clapping.

Youngin stared at the screen.

“…You prepared all this?”

“Yes.”

No tremor in his voice.

“For the first time,” he said calmly, “this isn’t about potential.”

He met her eyes.

“It’s about strategy.”

Silence filled the room.

Hawon whispered again,

“…Hyung is terrifying.”

And Hajin thought—

I’m not letting this winter repeat.