Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 56
Chapter 56. Ways to Drop a “Parachute” (3)
The day the second mission would be revealed finally arrived.
Wow. I’m so tired I could die.
As she watched me sit there with my soul halfway out of my body, the staff member doing my makeup chuckled.
“Hajin—at this rate you’re going to pass out.”
“If I stop opening my eyes, assume I’ve fainted and call 119.”
I tossed it back lightly and closed my eyes like she told me to. The packed schedule from the past week flashed through my head.
Profile shoot. Performance video. Extra filming.
Trainees the production wanted to “push” early—or trainees who needed a narrative hook from the start—got separate reality VCR shoots to highlight their character. And of course, I qualified for both categories, so naturally I got extra filming too.
…With Kang Hawon.
“Your brother?”
“Yes. Hajin, you’re close with your brother, and it kind of paints a picture, you know? Music-making brother, art-making younger brother.”
“If you want ‘artsy family vibes,’ isn’t Jung Siwoo-hyung right there?”
“No, not that. More like… wholesome siblings cheering each other on?”
“Ah… I’ll ask him, but he’ll probably refuse.”
He’s a guy who doesn’t even use social media, let alone appear on TV, so I assumed he’d refuse.
But Kang Hawon, that bastard, said yes immediately.
“You’ll do it? Seriously?”
“Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”
“You hate stuff like that.”
“…If you don’t need me, then forget it.”
“No, please do it. Teacher Hawon, please. Thank you.”
Thanks to that, I didn’t have to go back to my old high school and film some sentimental homeroom-teacher segment like ‘He stood out even back then.’ So it was a win.
And for once, I got to hang out with Hawon a lot, too.
“But Hajin, you’ve been pretty hot lately, you know?”
“Me?”
“Because of your profile.”
“Ah.”
A few days ago, the eighteen trainees’ profiles had been uploaded to the official Miro Maze social media—six per day, over three days.
To keep the buzz alive, production had spread the high-traction trainees across the three drops.
Cherry Boy Seo Taehyun—already confirmed for the show—and Jung Siwoo, whose mother is a famous pianist, were Day 1. Joo Eunchan, word-of-mouth as Miro’s hidden card, and Lee Doha, who already had some underground recognition, were Day 3.
And the effect was immediate.
[Compilation Post] Summary of trainees’ profiles uploaded yesterday (pics included)
holy shit Seo Taehyun got even more handsome
but Miro really has a type… I see UPIA and Endway in all of them
how did Jung Siwoo end up at Miro? was he kidnapped?
└ so there was a reason Rene handed Cha Minseok over so easily
the fact my taste overlaps with Han Sewon’s for 10 years straight is so annoying;; when does voting start?
Joo Eunchan is ridiculously handsome, kinda resembles Seo Taeil
omg Taehyun is finally coming backㅠㅠㅠ
are Lee Doha and Lee Yugeon brothers? kinda look alike (meaning: my type)
It rode up and down real-time trends all day, and every community was buzzing. Still, the most overwhelming presence by far was—
Cherry Blossom @ch_blossom
(Photo)
From Boy Cheon-ha final concert,
the Taehyun photo I took while sobbing my eyes out.
This time I’ll make sure you never cry again.
#MyCherry_SeoTaehyun_Let’sDebut
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TaeriDay @tae_day
#RT #MiroMaze
#SeoTaehyun comeback + Miro Maze participation celebration event!
One winner gets Taeni’s “Son Minsu item” — XX brand perfume♥
Winner announced after Miro Maze first broadcast at 7:23 “Taehyun time” :)
#MyCherry_SeoTaehyun_Let’sDebut
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SeoTaehyun Info Account @tadadoo
(Photo) (Photo)
(Photo) (Photo)
Miro Maze Seo Taehyun profile
One-line vow: We separated at sixteen and meet again at nineteen. Thank you for waiting.
My precious Taehyun, I’ll cheer for your nineteen too.
#MyCherry_SeoTaehyun_Let’sDebut
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…Seo Taehyun, who basically dragged every runaway master and named fan back into their seats.
That much, I expected.
But with that atmosphere, I figured my photo—quietly uploaded in the middle with the lower-rankers—would get buried without a trace…
“Which one is the hoodie oppa here?”
└ “Third one.”
└ “???? The third???”
“Hoodie oppa what’s the problem, did the photographer dump soju on his head?”
(photo) “How is this the same person?”
└ “What’s the problem exactlyㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ”
└ “No way that’s the same guy. Stop lying.”
└ “Wait… this face is actually good???? what is real?”
“Feels like the world is scamming me personally. Oppa if you’re gonna waste features like that, give them to me.”
“Is it that he’s unphotogenic or is that ‘spotted in the wild’ pic just insanely good?”
└ “Seems unphotogenic… other yearbook stuff looks more like the ‘spotted’ pic.”
Why am I hot, though?
That “cat repayment” thing was lasting way longer than I expected. Damn it.
“It even shows up on One-stagram popular posts. But it looked like a totally different person.”
“Do I really not look like myself?”
“Yeah. I thought maybe we messed up the retouching.”
Brutal.
But spilled water can’t be scooped back up. I erased my profile photos from my brain completely. Some negative posts popped up too, but whatever—once new bait drops, it all gets shoved down the feed.
“Okay, Hajin. Eyes up.”
“Yes.”
“So when does that come out? The music video you filmed?”
“Probably next week, they said.”
For example—the performance video for the program’s title track, .
If you can’t mop the water up, you might as well flood the whole floor and force everyone to look.
This world runs on attention. If even one or two viewers out of ten click the performance video out of curiosity—
So what’s Kang Hajin’s real face, anyway?
—then it’s a win.
Because—
< System Notification: ☆★ System update complete! ★☆ >
< System Notification: (Fixed) Regressor permissions upgraded. >
< System Notification: Skill (LV.6) is active. >
< System Notification: Skill <What Even Is “Being Me”?> is active. >
The system came back in time, and I tore that performance video to shreds—in a good way. Even I thought it came out absurdly well.
Even Lee Doha—who’d kept harping on me about “greed”—had nothing to say after monitoring.
I don’t know why I keep caring about his assessment, but still.
“Hajin, you were really good. You were flying.”
“Haha, thank you.”
“Okay, all done. You’re keeping your hair like this, right?”
“Yes. I like it comfortable for now.”
“You always finish so fast—almost unfair.”
I checked myself in the mirror and stood up, smoothing down my mostly unstyled, straight black hair.
While everyone else was bleaching, perming, and doing every kind of “look,” mine probably seemed too laid-back.
But I had my reasons.
If I debut, I’ll style to match the concept anyway. No need to burn through my image this early.
This isn’t a sixteen-episode marathon—it’s eight. It’ll be over in a blink.
If I change anything, it’s enough to do a small shift later—around episodes six or seven—as a “mood reversal.”
And viewers? Surprisingly, they liked it.
“The real flavor of trainee survival shows is that raw, unprocessed vibe.”
“The endgame of tuning is stock.”
“Facts. If they over-style them, it loses taste. You watch for the awkward, clumsy charm.”
There’s a reason straight black hair is a classic in this genre.
But showing up with the exact same face every episode from day one isn’t much of a hook, either—so I decided to play with details.
“Hyung, you’re wearing glasses today?”
“Doing a model student cosplay.”
“…With two ear piercings?”
I showed up in thick black frames that covered half my face, and everyone noticed immediately.
Taehyun stared at me like Do you have shame? I chewed up the gaze and swallowed it.
“Hyung—hyung! Do those glasses have lenses?”
“Nope.”
“And you just shove your eyes into them like that?”
“Whoa, can I try them on?”
I handed them to Dan Haru—who’d shown up with fluffy curls—and he and Joo Eunchan immediately caused chaos, trying them on each other and making a whole production out of it.
“Tada!”
“Dan Haru, why are you copying that? If you’re going to do it, give them back to Hajin-hyung.”
“Okaayy…”
“What if you poke your eye with your nail?”
Haru, who’d been mimicking me by poking the empty frames, finally got shut down by Taehyun. The glasses came back to me; I hooked them behind my ears and sat down.
As a Wings-tier trainee, I’d been given a decent seat—comfortable position, good camera angle.
“Hi.”
“…Ah, hello.”
On my left and right were Jung Siwoo and Lee Yugeon.
Siwoo brushed his long brown hair back neatly as he greeted me, and for a second I hallucinated petals fluttering around him. I will never get used to that face.
We hadn’t really talked before, so I was minding my own business when Siwoo spoke first.
“You sing well.”
“…Aren’t I supposed to say that to you?”
“I like your singing style.”
A performing-arts high school vocalist—practical music major—telling a non-major that…
Okay.
“I’m jealous of your voice, though.”
“Mine?”
“Yes. It’s calm. Pretty.”
“……”
“I only ever get told my voice is loud.”
It was feedback I got at my old agency too. They nagged me endlessly about “standing out by yourself.”
“Really? Next time, let’s do a stage together. If we get the chance.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
That was the end of the conversation—because the signal came that recording was about to start.
Across from me, I spotted Han Seongwoo taking his seat, styled to the nines.
When our eyes met, he flashed a confident smile.
Then the lights cut, and the cameras rolled.
A spotlight hit center stage. Seo Taeil stepped into it in a light suit.
“Those who would reach the sun—fly higher.”
“Welcome, everyone, to the second gate of Miro Maze.”
At last, the second recording began.