Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut!

Chapter 12: The Trainee Who Refuses to Debut (3)

Trainee Dan Haru, who was in a crisis, thought to himself.

‘Life is truly a battlefield.’

Of course, it was a truth he had realized multiple times throughout his life, but this time the situation was particularly complex. He was holding back his tears, thinking that crying would mean he truly lost, but that didn’t make his headache any less painful.

‘What should I do? I can’t go on like this.’

His stress was reaching its limit. If he was going to be a shrimp caught between whales, he figured it might be less unfair to at least end up as shark bait.

“But do sharks even eat shrimp?”

In his extremely frustrated state, Dan Haru found himself thinking of Kang Hajin, who had recently joined them, for reasons more logical than he expected.

-If you ever have something you can’t talk about easily, just ask me to go to the vending machine. I’ll buy you a drink at least.

He was a strange hyung. From the moment they first met, he felt inexplicably close. Before Haru knew it, he was sharing everything from his hobbies to his recent worries about training with this hyung, who had been the subject of rumors even before becoming an official trainee.

-Miro’s Zhuge Liang.

-They say he’s close to Seo Taeil from Utopia.

-Team Leader Ji takes care of him personally.

-I heard Renes wanted him because his abilities are amazing.

-No, I heard he’s from a powerful family, so no one can mess with him.

Dan Haru didn’t know how much of this was true, but one thing was certain: despite being new, Kang Hajin’s position in the company was better than expected.

Since he was new, he had no ties to the existing power dynamics, yet he was someone who might have a say in things after hearing Haru’s story.

Having calculated all this, Dan Haru took the next step without hesitation.

“…….”

“…….”

And so, here they were now. After boldly asking Hajin to get something from the vending machine, the practice room had erupted into laughter, leaving Hajin flustered as he led Eun-chan and Haru to a quiet, empty break room.

What followed was an awkwardness heavier than silence.

[System Alert: It’s chilly.]

Stay quiet before you stab a knife into my chest.

Hajin, who had been quietly observing the situation, shot a quick glare at the system that was starting up another idle chat.

“Uh, if you have nothing to say, should we leave?”

“Oh, um―, that!”

“Yes?”

“You told me before, if I had any worries, I should talk to you!”

“Ah, right. What’s the problem?”

Finally, Haru, having decided on his first sentence, filled his small face with a look of injustice as he appealed to Hajin.

“…The company keeps trying to debut us!”

‘What nonsense is this?’

The unexpected statement left Hajin momentarily dumbfounded.

“That… um↗.”

He tried to speak in a calm voice, but his tone cracked. Ah, there goes my image.

“Ahem. Isn’t the company supposed to try to debut us? That’s why we joined, after all.”

Hajin tried to sound as composed as possible, but it was clear in his voice that he didn’t understand. Ah, teenagers these days are tough. He had no idea what was going on in this seventeen-year-old’s mind.

“That’s true, but….”

The voice of the once-bold trainee lost some of its spirit. Joo Eun-chan, sitting next to him, simply watched Hajin with an unreadable expression. Wow, this eighteen-year-old Miro trainee wasn’t easy to deal with either.

“The director’s debut group has a parachute.”

“A parachute?”

“They’re trying to debut me and Haru together to cover up for that parachute.”

“Why you two?”

The story seemed to have the scent of a scandal, and Hajin found himself leaning forward. Joo Eun-chan spoke calmly in that low voice of his.

“Because I’m a golden spoon.”

“?”

What the hell are these kids talking about?

* * *

The story went like this.

Miro’s director, Son Hyeong-gu, who had been treated like a founding father for his achievement in debuting Utopia, had recently become impatient after missing out on a promotion due to poor performance and some incidents. That’s why he started making frequent appearances at gatherings of the so-called “important” people.

And one of those “important” people’s sons had recently taken an interest in becoming an idol.

“Everyone who knows the industry already knows about it. The director takes money to push certain trainees.”

It was clear to everyone that some trainees were getting opportunities through unfair means. But even knowing that, trainees, who were at the bottom of the food chain in this world of survival of the fittest, had no choice but to keep their dissatisfaction to themselves.

And the director’s greed was becoming more blatant by the day.

“Because of that parachute or whatever, the special class has been completely reshaped to fit the director’s taste.”

“Special class?”

“A class. Everyone calls it that because it’s essentially a debut management class.”

Hajin was reminded of what Ji Suho had explained to him on his first day as a trainee.

-When you first join as a trainee, everyone takes classes in B class. Miro has monthly evaluations and quarterly overall evaluations. Only the top seven trainees in the quarterly evaluation get to take classes in A class.

-Is it like a debut group?

-Not exactly, but there are more benefits and opportunities, and they’ll probably be considered more when forming the debut group.

At the time, Hajin thought it was harsh to train teenagers like that, but that was all. It was something he needed to get used to since he had entered this field, and all he had to do was grit his teeth and make it into the top seven.

That’s what he thought.

“At first, it was just one trainee, Seong-woo hyung, who got pushed out. He wasn’t really safe to begin with, so he couldn’t complain openly. Then one day, another A class trainee was called to the director’s office… and during the next evaluation, he suddenly dropped to 11th place. He always ranked 5th or 6th before.”

After that, trainees in the special class who didn’t get along with the parachute were removed one by one. They either fell to the general trainee team or left the company on their own.

And here, an unexpected name came up.

“Minseok hyung left the company because of that….”

“…Minseok? Cha Minseok from Renes?”

“You know Minseok hyung?”

Ah. He hadn’t debuted yet, had he?

Hajin quickly made an excuse, saying he had overheard something from Manager Jang at Renes, while looking at the surprised faces of the trainees.

“Anyway, so.”

“…….”

“Why is the director trying to debut you guys, and why don’t you like it? Because parachutes are unfair?”

To be honest, after signing a seven-year contract, you’d end up in the same boat anyway. If you think about it coldly, it might be better to have someone with connections rather than someone without. If the parents of the parachute trainee had enough influence to move the director, they might also provide more investment in the group. In the harsh entertainment industry, where power abuses abound, those connections could be a weapon to protect the group.

‘Of course, if I were really 20 years old, I’d be furious at the injustice and curse the system.’

But Hajin was no longer that naïve. He was a 29-year-old (+a) regressor who had already lived through this bitter reality four times.

Soon, Dan Haru, who had been contemplating Hajin’s words, spoke up.

“…I just don’t like the director.”

“That’s a very seventeen-year-old response. Next.”

“If we go along with this, we’ll just end up being sidekicks for that parachute hyung.”

“Capitalism is always a pain in the ass. Next.”

“Honestly, I don’t want to be on the director’s side. The W hyungs disbanded because of that.”

Here, W referred to Project W, a four-member rock band that had a solid debut but crashed and burned after a hand-syncing controversy at their concert. So that was the director’s project.

“That’s a bit more convincing. Next.”

“Isn’t that enough!?”

“Well, you’re asking me to go against a company director and a connected parachute. I need more of a reason.”

“But!”

“To be honest, refusing to debut just because you don’t like someone sounds more like whining to me.”

At Hajin’s somewhat cold words, the sparkle in Haru’s eyes dimmed, and he shut his mouth. He looked like a young rabbit caught in the rain, which made Hajin’s mouth taste bitter, but he had no intention of taking back what he said.

There were people who couldn’t even set foot inside a broadcast station despite how hard they tried and had to give up on their dreams.

No matter how many years you prepared or how desperate you were, in this industry, where neither debut nor success after debut was guaranteed, for an ordinary trainee to refuse to debut might seem like an insult to someone.

‘So, that’s not enough to move me.’

Hajin was in the same boat. He had embarked on this path to stop his regression, so he had to complete his quest, and that quest was to form a “successful debut group,” not a “moral debut group.”

If that parachute was a “successful” teammate

in some way, Hajin had no reason to remove him.

“You said earlier they’re trying to pin the parachute image on me.”

Joo Eun-chan, who had been biting his lip with a resolute expression, finally spoke up. No matter how many times Hajin heard this guy’s voice, he couldn’t get used to it.

“I’m a rich kid, you know.”

“Well, yeah. That’s enviable. But you’re in B class, not A class.”

“Exactly. I’m the only one in B class who got to perform as a backup dancer at the recent Utopia concert. The director made it happen. There were A class hyungs who didn’t get the chance, but I did.”

Really?

“They know I’m close to Haru and are threatening me. They’re saying either I take on the parachute label, or I rewrite the contract and debut. I know you can’t help us anyway. But this whole situation is just so―!”

What?

“Hold on. Rewrite what? Rewrite the contract?”

“To debut… we need to rewrite the debut contract….”

“Why would you rewrite the contract? Didn’t you sign a trainee contract when you joined Miro?”

Both of them widened their eyes in unison at Hajin’s question. What’s this?

“I was wondering what you meant by refusing to debut. So, they’re asking you to rewrite the contract, and you’re refusing.”

“…Yes.”

Beep beep.

An alarm went off in Hajin’s head. Even without a “bomb detection” skill, this was something he could instinctively recognize.

‘It’s a bomb.’

Got you, you little bastard.

‘So the director was planning to line his own pockets, huh?’

This was what they called trainee embezzlement. Even though it wasn’t common, it was something you could occasionally see in the narrow entertainment industry. The frequent meetings with influential people were probably to find investors for his own company.

“Ha, that changes everything.”

“…Can you help us?”

Joo Eun-chan, still with a half-doubting face, looked at Hajin and asked.

At first, Hajin thought his face seemed simply indifferent, but now he saw it differently. It wasn’t indifference or calmness, but the expression of someone who was sick of the world. It was the face of an eighteen-year-old who had tasted powerlessness for the first time, having to endure injustice and unfairness, an expression born of resignation.

And as Hajin saw the reflection of his own younger self on that face, he opened his mouth without further hesitation.

“Accepted.”

“……!!”

Now, how should he go about destroying this?