Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut! Chapter 62

Chapter 62. Shouting to You (4)

“Trainee Kang Hajin. When you first prepared this song, I scolded you quite a bit, didn’t I?”

Seo Taeil brought up the dirty laundry before they’d even begun.

Hajin quietly bit his lip.

I knew he’d ask—but why is that the first question?

Sulking inwardly, he nodded.

“Yes. Thanks to that, we had a big realization and were able to prepare for a new leap forward.”

“I originally planned to check on you separately yesterday, but I couldn’t because of fairness concerns. So I’m very curious right now.”

“Mentor, we’re always overwhelmed by your generous expectations and interest.”

“Oh? Then can I have more expectations. ?”

“But haven’t you heard that sometimes people feel more in moments they didn’t expect?”

“Who said that?”

“My mother.”

“…Your mother…”

Taeil made an awkward face at the unexpected answer, and the studio burst into laughter. It wasn’t often a trainee volleyed back at him so casually.

He tilted his head slightly.

You’re not easy.

“I have something I want to ask too.”

When the laughter settled, Choi Yeonwoo of Enderway lifted his mic.

“Honestly, I thought trainee Seo Taehyun would choose our song. You had selection priority, right? Why didn’t you?”

“….”

“Our song would’ve suited you well.”

Curiosity. Expectation. And just a faint edge of competitiveness.

From afar, Hajin studied Yeonwoo’s expression.

Enderway’s center and Cherry Boy Seo Taehyun in the same frame—

Cha Minseok.

In his previous life, Minseok had debuted in Enderway’s lineup. The two groups were constantly mentioned together because of that link.

Hajin observed Yeonwoo carefully.

What exactly was he asking?

Taehyun took a steady breath.

“I probably would have.”

“……”

“But I thought you’ve already seen plenty of me doing what I’m good at.”

The studio’s atmosphere shifted sharply—confident, but not arrogant. A whistle even came from the mentor row.

“Alright then,” Taeil continued smoothly, “please briefly introduce how ‘new’ a stage you’ve prepared.”

Hajin picked up the mic.

“We prepared Sarin sunbaenim’s ‘Shouting to You.’”

“It’s a very famous song. That must’ve been a lot of pressure.”

“Yes. A lot.”

He nodded lightly.

“At first, we were too focused on pulling off a masterpiece. We tensed up. But after receiving Mentor Seo Taeil’s mid-check feedback, we changed our mindset.”

“How?”

“What Taehyun just said—that became our motto.”

“…?”

“‘You’ve probably already seen plenty of us doing what we’re good at.’ So we decided to sing our own breakup in our own way.”

“…Alright. I’ll look forward to it. Please prepare the stage.”

The trainees moved to set up.

Behind the mentor table, one voice murmured:

“It’ll be hard to surpass the feeling of the original.”

Heads nodded. Subtle glances slid toward Sarin.

What kind of stage would they show?

Would these boys become yet another “Sarin victim”?

Sarin simply watched quietly.

The Stage Begins

The lights went out.

“Hm— hmm—”

A clear, youthful hum cut through the silence.

A spotlight fell on one corner.

A light-brown–haired boy sat at a desk, writing, humming softly.

Scratch—scratch.

The pencil sound blended into the arrangement.

Dan Haru… the youngest.

He folded the letter carefully and tucked it into a desk drawer.

Blackout.

Then—

Purple light.
A sudden burst of synth and rhythmic bass.

City pop?

Sarin’s eyes widened.

Cherry blossoms scattered across the LED sunset sky.

Five boys in school uniforms began moving lightly to the rhythm.

This is a letter I’m sending to you I once loved—

Falsetto chorus.

The choreography was familiar.

That’s from their original jazz draft.

They hadn’t rebuilt everything—they’d reworked it. Between the steps, small bits of acting slipped in.

High-fives.
Shared smiles.
Playful glances.

Like real high school boys.

Are you listening?

Haru’s voice—clear and steady—opened the performance.

Then Hajin stepped forward.

Loose shirt. Untied collar. Cool expression.

I think I’m doing pretty well
Sometimes our beginning still comes to mind
But it doesn’t hurt anymore

The rhythm was tricky.

He handled it cleanly.

<System Alert: <What Even Is “Me”?> increases Vocal by 24%.>
<System Alert: (Lv.10) — Emotional Pull deepens.>

Nine thousand cash.

It showed.

The originally slow verse now rode a bright city-pop groove. The emotion didn’t explode—it simmered.

They’re restraining it.

Maybe this is what it is
Maybe breakup is like this

Park Jaeyoung and Jayden exchanged lines smoothly. Harmonies filled the space.

No punishing choreography.

But where’s Taehyun?

Taehil’s gaze sharpened.

Taehyun normally entered before the first chorus.

Always.

Yet they were nearly there—

Still no center shift.

“Why give Jaeyoung that section?”
“I’m more worried about the chorus build…”

Then—

Drums began to build.

Lights gathered center.

I get through an ordinary day, and sometimes—

Hajin lifted the dynamic.

Clean.

Controlled.

Formation shifted rapidly—

And then Taehyun slipped out.

“Is that Taehyun?”

His hair—dark again.

The instrumental dropped away.

Only pad and bass remained.

Bye, oh bye!
Bye, oh good bye!

No belted high note.

Instead—

A clean falsetto.

One octave higher.

Effortless.

He turned his head slightly, extended one arm.

With the other hand, he lifted the tip of his tie—and lightly pressed it to his lips.

The instruments exploded back in.

Second repetition.

This time, all five mirrored the motion.

Tie to lips.

The bell motif from the opening returned.

A short interlude.

“Oh—what are they doing?”

The boys began crossing paths without colliding.

Uniform jackets came off.
Glasses went on.
Hair slicked back.

“…Time.”

Sarin whispered.

“Huh?”

“Time is passing. Look—office worker. College student…”

Not a big transformation.

But unmistakable.

The boys were growing up.

Drums hit.

Hajin surged center again.

The key shifted up.

This is a letter I’m sending to you I once loved—

Now his shirt was fully buttoned. Sleeves rolled cleanly. Tie straight.

The new key didn’t faze him.

Is this really my song?

Sarin set her pen down slowly.

He looked almost like someone who’d already lived through this.

You’re listening, aren’t you—

Hajin’s low register carried into the second verse.

And for the first time—

Sarin felt her throat tighten.