Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 57

Chapter 57. Ways to Drop a “Parachute” (4)

It wasn’t hard to predict the second mission.

I mean, survival-show law, right?

〚TO THE TOP〛

“Your second mission is a cover song.”

In other words—chasing after legendary senior artists’ insane hit tracks.

“Right now, countless stars are shining in the music industry. Through this mission, you will reinterpret senior artists’ songs in your own style.”

“You may preserve 100% of the original charm—or completely transform it into your own color. The key is how brightly you can shine within it.”

As expected of a pro, Seo Taeil delivered that entire speech in one clean take.

This wasn’t the time to sit too quietly either. At the very least, you had to fake a bit of surprise for screen time.

Still—I could roughly guess what songs they’d pick.

Copyright is way more complicated and expensive than people think. On shows like this, they usually choose tracks with minimal licensing headaches. And since this was outsourced production, they’d want to trim costs wherever possible.

So what do label-run survival shows usually do?

They use songs from artists under the same company.

If you’ve got active, popular seniors like Miro does? Even better.

The production company saves on royalties.
The broadcaster avoids risk.
The senior artists get promotional exposure.

Not three birds with one stone—more like seventeen.

The only question was which hit songs they pulled from the pile.

“Now then, we’ll reveal the keywords for your mission songs!”

The scoreboard flipped with a heavy sound effect.

〚TO THE TOP〛

BLUE SCANDAL (7)
Cinderella (6)
SAD ENDING (5)

“There are three mission songs. You may now choose according to your previous mission ranking.”

“Each team has limited spots on a first-come basis. Once a team fills, elect a leader and begin your meeting.”

Three songs.

I stared at the keywords.

Jung Siwoo leaned toward me.

“Where are you going?”

“Me? Why, hyung—planning to follow me?”

“Wouldn’t I be choosing before you?”

“…Can’t argue with that.”

Pureblood Wings-tier confidence. I shut my mouth.

Since reaction time mattered for cameras too, I answered casually while watching the board.

“Well… I’m leaning toward BLUE SCANDAL.”

I already knew what it was.

“I like blue.”

That was definitely U-Pia’s debut song. Korean title: Waves (파란). Written and composed by Seo Taeil.

And—

“Try softening the pronunciation in ‘racing.’”
“It has to rhyme with ‘yeogikkaji.’”
“Yes, Kang Hajin. Good work.”

It was my Miro audition song.

Why gamble when I’d already been acknowledged by the composer himself?

Seven spots. Even if every Wings-tier lunatic rushed it, I’d make it.

This time, I’d finally pick what I wanted—

“Before team selection, there’s a notice.”

…Excuse me?

“From the previous battle, trainee Han Seongwoo and trainee Lee Yugeon—each will be given the right to assign a song to the opponent they defeated.”

What kind of nonsense is that?

My eyes almost popped out of my skull.

Since when was that a rule?

I let out a dry laugh and looked across.

Han Seongwoo.

Smiling smugly.

Lip-glossed, self-satisfied bastard.

It’s him.

Did I provoke him too well last time? I wanted him rattled—but I didn’t expect such a fast, precise counterattack.

“Lee Yugeon, please select your own song and Kim Wonho’s song first.”

Yugeon ranked higher than Seongwoo, so he went first.

He’d been sitting silently to my left the whole time.

Come to think of it, I’d barely exchanged a word with him.

I studied his face openly.

Sharp eyes. Clean features. Slight resemblance to Lee Doha, like people online said.

But while Doha had “three-piece suit mafia boss” energy, Yugeon looked like he skateboarded at dawn and spray-painted walls. Classic dinosaur-face type.

And yet his dancing was delicate.

He took the mic.

Across from us, Kim Wonho looked just as shell-shocked as I felt.

“I’ll choose… BLUE SCANDAL.”

The board updated.

Now he had to assign Wonho’s song.

“Hey.”

“…Huh?”

Why are you calling me?

“What do you think Kim Wonho would like?”

“Excuse me?”

He lowered the mic and turned to me.

My eyes bulged again.

Why are you asking me?

“So you can avoid what he likes?”

“No. So I can give him that.”

“…?”

“Hurry. You’re close with him.”

Now I’m being used as an answer key?

I glanced at Wonho. He was holding up two fingers and silently mouthing please with a crumpled, desperate face.

“…Cinderella?”

“I’ll assign Cinderella.”

Yugeon decided instantly.

Wonho practically jumped in shock.

I stared at Yugeon, confused—but he returned the mic calmly and sat down.

“You…”

“Next, Han Seongwoo.”

No time to question it.

Seongwoo stood.

“I’ll take… BLUE SCANDAL.”

Ah. I’m screwed.

No hesitation. He knew exactly what song it was.

Of course he did—his backing was a CP.

The bigger problem:

He would never put me on his team.

And since he knew I was close with Wonho, there was zero chance he’d assign me Cinderella.

Which meant—

“Hajin… I’ll assign SAD ENDING.”

The third option.

The one I knew nothing about.

Fuck.

At least my team luck wasn’t catastrophic.

“Dan Haru, come here. There’s water on the floor.”

“Ah—okay!”

Seo Taehyun dragged Haru back from zooming around the practice room.

SAD ENDING had five spots.

Me (forced), two Feather-tier trainees (also forced), and—unexpectedly—Seo Taehyun and Dan Haru.

Especially Taehyun.

I thought he’d definitely choose Cinderella. Probably Enderway’s recent hit Moodnight—dark fantasy concept but flashy and stage-heavy. Completely Taehyun-coded.

But whatever his reason, it worked in my favor.

Even the Feather-tier guys weren’t bad.

“Park Jaeyoung, come sit.”

“Yes.”

Jaeyoung—who’d almost dropped out—had recovered from his fever and returned after convincing his parents.

The System chimed in:

<System Notice: Park Jaeyoung’s departure was originally a fixed future.>
<However, in this timeline, a rejoining event was added.>
<Likely due to the introduction of ‘survival’ as a variable.>

Complicated, but good. I’d felt guilty.

The last member, Jayden, was stable enough.

“Let’s reveal the song.”

The five of us huddled.

I prayed.

Please don’t let this be some absurd hell-difficulty track.

Dear cost-efficient fired-PDs, I believe in your taste.

If this is some disbanded W-Project full-band trot-rock nonsense from the former director’s era, I swear I’ll punch Seongwoo once and regress.

<System Notice: Threatening regression is a very bad habit!>

Then punch him for me.

“Ready? I’m flipping it.”
“Wait! No! I can’t look!”
“Taehyun, my heart!”
“If it’s not beating, you’re dead!”

We milked the tension for broadcast.

“Three!”

The card revealed:

〚TO THE TOP〛

SAD ENDING
Sarin – “Shouting to You” (너에게 고함)

…Not unfamiliar.

But unexpected.

“Sarin sunbaenim?”

Sarin.

A female ballad soloist in an idol-dominated industry.

Representative artist of Lime Entertainment—one of my past audition targets.

Known as the OST Queen.

And among her countless OST hits, her signature:

“Shouting to You.”

Why was a non-idol heartbreak ballad here?

“Ah—Seo Taeil sunbaenim composed this, right?”

That’s why.

Diversity secured. Royalties minimized. Peak cost-efficiency.

“Good thing it’s not unfamiliar.”

“I love this song! I memorized the lyrics!”

Everyone seemed to know it.

That was good.

But—

I locked eyes with Taehyun.

He didn’t look surprised.

He knew.

And he chose it deliberately.

Putting that aside…

I hummed the melody in my head and let out a hollow laugh.

Why is nothing ever easy?

Those ruthless production bastards.

Even if it’s cost-effective, this is an idol survival show.

And you’re throwing in a high-difficulty emotional ballad?

…You really want blood.