Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 55

Chapter 55. Ways to Drop a “Parachute” (2)

To be fair, Kang Hajin did have an excuse.

I used to be the one behind the camera, not in front of it.

It had been over ten years since I’d properly stood in front of a lens. After quitting as a trainee, I’d drifted into assistant directing—and during my glorious “job-hunting bum” era, I’d even gained a little weight. At some point, I stopped liking photos of myself altogether.

Dancing and singing? I’d kept doing those. That wasn’t awkward.

But a shoot where you’re basically expected to stare into a camera and radiate Damn, I’m handsome?

That’s a completely different skill set.

And right now, I had a double handicap.

< System Notification: Mental-care system is active. >
< System Notification: Due to a system update, skill use is unavailable. >
※ Applied skills: (LV.6), <Behold with the Dragon’s Eyes> (LV.3)

Because of this cursed mental-care system, my emotional expression was muted—and now the one skill that could’ve compensated for it, , was locked?

Then what was the point of leveling it up?!

As a result, I was currently reliving something worse than retaking a senior-year graduation photo six hundred times.

“Wow… hyung is bad. Like, seriously bad.”

“Shut up. He’ll hear you.”

I can hear you, you little punks.

I didn’t even have the energy to glare at Kim Wonho and Seo Taehyun, who were standing in front of the monitor in full spectator mode, watching me like I was a car crash.

“O-okay, Hajin. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. Relax. Relax. Smile comfortably. Naturally.”

A photoshoot is a stamina game and a time game.

But when you’re the one eating up minutes alone, how is your mind supposed to relax?

Did my assistant-director brain get permanently soldered into my skull?

I tried smiling naturally at the photographer’s gentle coaching. It didn’t work. If something’s impossible, wanting it harder doesn’t magically fix it.

I glanced at the trainees waiting their turn and finally shook my head.

“Sir, I’ll just pick from what we have.”

“Huh? No, Hajin. You can do it!”

“There are a lot of people waiting. I feel like I’m taking too long.”

When I pleaded awkwardly, the photographer checked the schedule with the staff.

Objectively, I wasn’t blowing the time slot. It just felt worse because the guys before me had wrapped up in record time.

Technically, I could demand fifty more shots and no one could complain.

But it’s not like my face is going to transform if we keep clicking.

And honestly? I never liked candid photos of myself anyway.

Sure, I wanted to look good—this would be pre-released—but we already had dedicated visuals.

“Wow, Siwoo-hyung looks like a magazine shoot even with random snaps.”

“Joo Eunchan is insane.”

“But you can’t beat a veteran. Earlier the staff noonas were taking photos of Seo Taehyun.”

Those guys would draw attention regardless. I could afford to blur quietly into the background.

“Mmm… it feels like we were one step away from something great. What a shame.”

“Honestly, sir, without you I couldn’t even have gotten this much. You’re my savior.”

“…Tch. Fine. Good work!”

After bowing repeatedly to the photographer—who had just tried to polish a malfunctioning robot—I finally escaped the photo zone.

The monitor area had turned into a spectator pit.

“Hyung Kang, seriously. Think again. Is this really your best? This is basically fraud.”

“Hey, how can you say that to someone’s face?”

“Can you both disappear? And Dohwa—why are you here too?”

“I finished early.”

Lee Dohwa lowered his hand mid–hair flip, remembering it had been sprayed into place. He was already in his personal concept outfit—sporty tracksuit, basketball tucked under his arm.

Right. This guy looked athletic.

Then why the hell couldn’t he dance?

As I stared, I realized he’d been staring back.

“Uh… what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…I thought maybe your mind had changed.”

“What?”

“Weren’t you going to be greedy?”

His tone was genuinely curious.

And just like that, he sucker-punched me in the solar plexus with words again.

“What—no. I can’t line everyone up and waste time just so I can get a ‘legendary life photo.’ It’s just a profile pic.”

“……”

“I’m not giving up, okay? I’m not half-assing it. Seriously.”

“Then that’s fine.”

He nodded as if that settled everything.

Why does this guy believe in me so much?

Before I could dwell on it, staff called out:

“Next—Seo Taehyun?”

“Yes!”

I muttered under my breath.

“Putting him after me should be illegal.”

Stop the civilian massacre already. Eighty-two-percent-eye-contact “Charm King” bastard.

The moment Taehyun stepped in, he greeted smoothly and loosened the atmosphere like he’d been born on set. He checked lighting angles and props like a pro.

He’d mentioned doing child modeling when he was younger.

Muscle memory, apparently.

How did this guy fail in my previous life?

Nothing about these kids makes sense.

After watching Taehyun receive a “Bravo!” from the first shot, I turned away.

“I’m going in.”

“What? Hyung, you’re not choosing?”

“Whatever I pick, it’s trash.”

Ten shots, ten disasters.

What’s there to choose?

“Kang Hajin.”

“…?”

“Come talk to me for a second.”

In the hallway, Han Seongwoo grabbed me.

So he came looking first.

Guess I hit the nerve.

I nodded obediently and followed him.

He’d clearly picked the location—navigating set corridors like he owned them. He shoved me into an empty waiting room and shut the door.

“How much do you know?”

“Dunno. I know a lot. Want me to recite it?”

“You—fuck. Don’t get snarky unless you want me to stomp you into the ground.”

“Wow~ huge victim complex. I’m not being snarky, hyung.”

I leaned against the wall on purpose, casual and infuriating.

Seongwoo crossed his arms—defensive. I stepped forward.

He stepped back.

“…What do you want?”

There it was.

I looked down at him with the most irritating smile I could muster.

“But hyung—do you really have a sponsor? Like, for real?”

“What?”

“If your backing is that amazing, why are you still here without debuting?”

I shrugged, genuinely puzzled.

“Honestly, your support isn’t that great, is it? If it were, I was going to ask to hop on the bus too.”

Silence.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Don’t get cocky. You want to get cut like the other kids?”

“Haha. How? Hyung, you hate Joo Eunchan, but you couldn’t cut even him. His family’s too big.”

His jaw tightened.

“This isn’t even a broadcast-station survival. It’s internal. What changes just because you have one PD connection? Better edits? Fine. But every time you show up, I’ll show up too. We’re basically a rivalry arc.”

How’s that? Hurt your pride?

“Losing the battle was annoying, sure… but we won the team battle anyway. Ah—but you were really petty.”

His eyes darkened.

“If we’d won the team battle too, the top ranks would’ve stayed locked. So you let us have it, right? It’s better for you if lower-ranked kids climb a little than if Joo Eunchan makes Wings again.”

You mad yet?

“Well, I guess…”

“If you didn’t do it like that, you can’t win. So you had no choice.”

I patted his shoulder lightly.

“Work hard, hyung. I’ll pretend I don’t know.”

I walked out hoping—no, praying—that his vision had flipped red.

Left alone, Han Seongwoo exploded.

“Ah—fuck!”

He kicked a chair hard enough to send it skidding.

“That nobody piece of shit!”

Everything had gone wrong the moment Kang Hajin showed up.

“The director got kicked out, and I’m stuck doing this bullshit survival show—this is already fucked…”

Originally, he’d planned to debut cleanly—take a few promising trainees, follow the director to a new agency, launch smoothly.

Sure, Joo Eunchan being in the lineup had been annoying. But after debut, they could’ve squeezed him dry and tossed him.

When Seongwoo demanded to transfer agencies, his father had snapped:

“Do you know how much money I lost because of that bastard Son Hyeonggu?!”

“Lie low for now. If you insist on idol nonsense, then produce results.”

“And you’re bragging that you’re worse than other kids?”

From there, everything spiraled.

He only wanted to debut cleanly, become a successful idol, and live comfortably.

Why was it so hard?

Seongwoo dialed.

“PD-nim. Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Hey! I told you not to call like this!”

“You should’ve dropped Kang Hajin for good!”

On the other end, CP Yoon—far older—couldn’t respond properly. He’d already taken a thick envelope from Seongwoo’s father to “watch over” him.

“Making you win was hard enough. That was the best we could do! You won, didn’t you?”

“Whatever. Find out the next mission.”

“What?”

“You can’t even do that? Couldn’t even pull a title track early and made me look like an idiot?”

“That’s because Seo Taeil tightened security—”

“So you can’t do it again? Then what can you do?”

“Ah—fine! There’s a script meeting this week. I’ll go. I’ll check.”

Seongwoo hung up immediately.

“Kang Hajin, you bastard…”

“Work hard, hyung. I’ll pretend I don’t know.”

The mocking smile replayed in his mind.

Work hard and win?

Who says I can’t?

His teeth ground together, dry and sharp.