Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 45
Chapter 45. Daylight (1)
“Good. You prepared well. Honestly, I was worried about Team B.”
The satisfied applause of Seo Taeil echoed through the practice room.
The Feather-class trainees, having just finished their interim evaluation, were panting hard—but they still shouted in unison,
“Thank you!”
At the center stood Hajin.
The camera zoomed in on his slightly furrowed brows as he forced his breathing to steady.
“But Gyeongho needs more practice. He’s falling behind on his own.”
“…Yes, sir!”
“Still, your overall spirit is great. Maybe it’s because you’re young—you’ve got guts.”
“Thank you!”
Little did Taeil know that the “discipline” behind that spirit had been forged through someone’s ruthless blackmail.
Taeil flipped open the trainee profile file.
“Who’s the leader here? Hajin? You handled the atmosphere well.”
After repeated praise, Hajin smiled modestly.
“The members worked hard and followed well.”
“Too much humility can get annoying, though.”
“In that case, I suppose they recognized my outstanding leadership.”
“Oh? Now that’s a different kind of annoying.”
Their clean back-and-forth drew quiet laughter from the staff.
Watching the warm mood settle over the room, Hajin was certain.
I’m getting good editing.
In survival shows where narrative is king, a lower-ranked team staging a rebellion is always welcome—especially on a program produced by that PD.
If Team A gets compared unfavorably, even better.
Somewhere else, Team A was probably going through their own evaluation.
Sorry, guys. Mess up just a little for me, okay?
He smiled inwardly.
“You didn’t get greedy again?”
“But Hajin.”
“…Yes?”
“You didn’t get greedy again, did you?”
Taeil’s meaningful gaze flicked between the part distribution sheet and Hajin.
Hajin stiffened.
Why does he always single me out?
He hadn’t minimized his parts this time.
He had:
First half of the chorus
Center for the dance break
Third-verse ad-lib
How much greed does he want from me?
After a brief pause, Hajin answered carefully.
“We discussed the parts together as a team. If I get a solo stage opportunity later, I’ll show more ambition then.”
Taeil’s eyebrow twitched.
What do you want me to say?
After a thoughtful hum, Taeil nodded.
“Alright. You all worked hard. I’ll look forward to the mentor evaluation.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
The Accidental Slate
As filming wrapped—
“Uh, where’s Seonjae?”
“He stepped out to pay for dinner.”
“Oh. Then… Hajin, could you clap once for us?”
The assistant director had stepped away, and Hajin happened to be standing dead center.
Without thinking, he raised his hand.
“Clapping the slate!”
“March 2nd, 8:42 PM, Team B interim check—one, two, three!”
Clap!
The sound rang out—loud, clean, perfectly projected.
Every camera and mic captured it flawlessly.
Silence.
Everyone stared at him.
And Hajin realized it first.
Oh no. Muscle memory.
That had been way too natural.
PD Kwon’s expression shifted in real time—interest flashing across her face.
Hajin scratched his shoulder awkwardly.
“I, uh… saw you do it last time. Was that not how it goes?”
Laughter erupted.
Six cameras immediately zoomed in on him from different angles.
PD Kwon grinned.
“If you don’t make it through survival, you can work as our assistant director. That slate was perfect!”
Of course it was.
He’d learned it the hard way in his previous life.
Is telling an idol to become a PD an insult or a compliment?
He smiled brightly.
But he did not say he’d be happy to.
After the Evaluation
The Feather-class trainees returned to the dorm floor. The tension from earlier had completely dissolved.
Someone spoke as they spotted Gyeongho ahead.
“So what happened to him? Did he reincarnate or something?”
“No idea. He just suddenly changed.”
When Hajin had brought Gyeongho back after lunch, the team had been stunned.
The same guy who acted like a thug yesterday was now bowing politely.
Naturally, theories spread.
“I heard Seok begged Hajin to forgive him.”
“No, they fought and Gyeongho lost.”
“I saw them in the cafeteria. Gyeongho looked like he was crying and Hajin was patting him.”
“Yeah, I think he even hugged him.”
The rumors grew warmer by the minute.
No one imagined the whispered threat had actually been:
If you don’t want your trainee career to end, run back to practice.
And just like that—
Hajin’s legend grew.
“He’s basically an angel.”
“Honestly, he gave us another chance.”
Even Park Jaeyoung added solemnly,
“Taehui told me something once.”
“What?”
“He said… if you’re on the same team as Hajin, don’t mess with him. He’s scary as hell.”
“…Ah.”
Collective nod.
Lesson learned.
Night Air & Unease
Unaware of the myths forming about him, Hajin walked along the outdoor path near the dorm to dry his hair and clear his thoughts.
Upcoming schedule:
Opening shoot
Interim check (today)
Mentor evaluation (day after tomorrow)
Title song recording
Performance video shoot
In other words, starting today, we’re dead.
March had just begun.
At least a month of hell awaited.
Still—
Something bothered him.
Taeil’s words.
“You didn’t get greedy.”
What did that mean?
“I’m already leader. Chorus. Dance break center…”
“…There was intent behind that comment.”
“Hey.”
“Holy—! Who are you?!”
“I’m sorry.”
It was Lee Doha, wrapped head to toe in black, scarf included.
“In March?”
“I get cold easily.”
He held up a page full of handwritten lyric drafts.
Ah. Right. Genius artist.
Hajin hesitated before asking.
“Doha. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What does it mean when someone says you didn’t get greedy? Taeil said that earlier.”
Doha listened quietly.
“I have a lot of parts. First chorus. Dance break center. Third-verse ad-lib.”
“….”
“But he still said that.”
Silence lingered.
Then—
“…Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
Doha looked at him directly.
“If I were the producer, I wouldn’t have given you any of those parts.”
“…Why?”
“They don’t suit you.”
“…What?”
Hajin blinked.
“Because they don’t show who you are.”
And just like that—
For the first time since entering this show,
Hajin felt like he had been struck by a truth he’d never considered.