Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 49

Chapter 49. Daylight (5)

As Hajin shrank under the weight of humiliation and self-loathing, Lia comforted him generously.

“I get that lyric mixed up a lot too—even at events.”

“You’ve messed it up more than a few times, haven’t you?” Seo Taeil added smoothly.

“Taeil, be quiet. That’s going to turn into archival footage. PD-nim, please don’t go digging for it. If that airs, I will seriously cry.”

Watching the two of them casually redirect the situation while planting the next edit point—there was a reason they were veteran idols.

At least the attention shifted away from him.

“I really enjoyed that. You’re really good.”

“No, the song is just so good… It’s embarrassing, but it’s an honor to sing it in front of you.”

“Oh? Since when are you this type, Hajin? What is this—image management?”

“…Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Damn it. Did he absorb military stamina and speech patterns?

He had been trying to wrap it up as a wholesome fanboy moment, but Taeil wasn’t helping at all. Image management, my foot.

Hajin stared at him blankly. Taeil was resting his chin on his hand, fully prepared to chew him up.

“You weren’t like this when we met at the mid-check.”

“Ah.”

So he meant the time Hajin had snapped back at him.

If I don’t land this properly, it’ll get cut.

In variety, if you don’t close a bit cleanly, even a good moment disappears in editing. And this wasn’t even scripted. He couldn’t let it die awkwardly.

So Hajin swept his bangs back and put on the most shamelessly slick expression he could manage.

“Too bad you missed out, huh. A talent like me.”

“AHAHA! What was that?!”
“Why did he suddenly choose that concept?!”

Good reactions.

The mentors burst into laughter. Hajin felt a flicker of pride—until embarrassment yanked him back to reality. He quickly dropped the expression and fixed his hair.

He shot Taeil a look that clearly said, Satisfied now?

Taeil was already pounding the desk.

“You’re killing me.”

“Alright, enough laughing. Let’s move on.”

“Yeah, next question.”

The prompter must have signaled them to keep it moving. While everyone was still riding the laughter, the vocal trainer raised her mic.

“We heard one member got sick and you had to redistribute parts quickly. Did Hajin take all of those parts?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a decision you make unless you’re very confident.”

There it was.

He had expected the question. The writer had warned him, so he wasn’t caught off guard.

Hajin glanced at his teammates—still waiting for their first line of the night.

“Honestly, my teammates were very considerate.”

“Considerate?”

The mentors looked intrigued.

Meanwhile, his teammates stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Hajin shot them a look that clearly meant: Play along.

“Since I haven’t been in the company long, becoming leader and getting positive feedback felt like a lot of pressure.”

“Ahh~”

“So when we first divided parts, the others gave up some impactful lines so I could take fewer. Then Jaeyoung suddenly got sick.”

He paused.

A flicker of guilt stirred. Jaeyoung hadn’t collapsed for no reason.

“…So the others were already carrying heavier sections and formations. After discussing it, we decided I’d push myself a little harder and cover Jaeyoung’s share.”

It was a lie.

But the real reason couldn’t be explained on broadcast.

He couldn’t exactly say, They pushed it onto me.

So he packaged it as B Team’s tearful teamwork overcoming crisis.

Smile, you idiots.

Thankfully, a few of them caught on and nodded, lifting their lips slightly.

“Going from nine to eight members and adjusting choreography on the fly must’ve been difficult. But you handled it calmly. That’s good. I’m looking forward to your stage.”

“B Team, please prepare your performance.”

The call dropped. The lights began to shift.

The members, who had been frozen watching Hajin’s one-man variety show, scrambled into position.

Before the lights fully dimmed, Hajin spoke softly.

“Guys.”

“….”

“Let’s do well.”

The lights went out.

Finally—time to show their first Daylight.

B Team Stage

Unlike A Team’s coordinated white-and-denim freshness, B Team wore a mismatched mix of black and red.

Melancholy freshness in black and red? Bold choice.

Lia twirled her pen.

Still, they could’ve coordinated better.

It felt like the two teams were performing entirely different interpretations.

Then the intro began.

A whistled tone layered over the bright guitar riff. Timpani rolled in. The eight-member formation—now even-numbered—moved in clean, paired choreography like a waltz.

A ballroom?

And perhaps the mismatched outfits were intentional—each pair contrasted in color.

Then Hajin stepped forward.

“Hi, it’s me.”

Unlike A Team’s playful tone, Hajin’s delivery was restrained—almost unfamiliar.

Lia’s attention sharpened.

“For a long time, we
Looked at different places…”

“Huh?”

“These kids are interesting.”

In an even-number formation, someone has to be sacrificed—hidden behind another to maintain center symmetry.

But B Team did something else.

“He’s reversing the choreography, isn’t he?”

“Yes. That must be incredibly confusing.”

Hajin performed every movement in reverse direction, creating the illusion that he was pairing with the person behind him while syncing with those around him.

Where reversing would look wrong, he substituted gestures. Where it would look correct, he hit the angles sharply and continued singing.

For most, reversing choreography on the spot would be brutal.

For Hajin, it wasn’t impossible.

He had spent days facing them, correcting from the front—memorizing every move mirrored.

The pre-chorus arrived.

Mentors murmured.

“A Team is strong.”
“But B Team isn’t weak.”
“I like their rookie grit—forcing synchronization.”

A Team crushed with individual skill.

B Team’s strength was unity—a promise of one shared performance.

Now Lia understood the outfit contrast.

“They’re staging the lyrics. They’re constantly searching for each other.”

The “you” and “me” in the song became visible through blocking. The chorus exploded with Gong Seok and Hajin facing each other at center.

They switched positions during each other’s lines to maximize camera shots.

Smart.

With eight members, Hajin leaned fully into the pairing concept.

It looked so seamless it was easy to forget it had been rearranged hours ago.

“That’s the revised version?”

“The formation changed, yes. But the core concept was already there at mid-check. I told you—they’re interesting.”

The dance break hit. Hajin didn’t look winded.

“Hajin’s breath control is impressive.”

“He trained at another company for years. I heard he did children’s musicals when he was young—choir, that kind of thing.”

If only they knew it wasn’t musicals—

It was sprint drills in one life, script runs in another.

The song reached the third chorus.

Taeil noticed something.

It wasn’t Hajin stepping aside for the ad-lib. It was Gong Seok.

He glanced at the updated sheet.

Kang Hajin:

• Hi, it’s me

• My joy that will shine brilliantly

• So another sun won’t set before it lights you

• So another pair of wings reaches you

• My Daylight that brightens your night

“…So he did get greedy.”

After the dance break, Hajin’s steady voice drove the third chorus forward from center.

While singing, he lifted his head and winked at Lee Doha, who stared back in shock.

Thanks for the hint, you bastard.

Today, Kang Hajin had decided to take everything.