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Chapter 02
“Ha-jin.”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
The homeroom teacher from my senior year of high school—who I had assumed I would never meet again after retiring and emigrating overseas—was now staring at me with concern, asking for an explanation about my blank college counseling form.
Describe the feeling of this moment in five characters:
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not scolding you… I’m just worried.”
Yes, teacher. I’m also worried and anxious every single day because I’ve ended up living alongside some selection-type regressor bastard in my fifth life.
I swallowed those words deep down my throat and nodded awkwardly.
Smile, Kang Ha-jin. Smile.
“Is it… because you’re taking a gap year?”
“No, teacher. It’s really not that.”
“Then what’s going on? You’ve been quiet lately, barely talking.”
I glanced sideways at the root of all my headaches over the past three days and chose my words carefully while maintaining a socially acceptable smile.
“I think it’s just a cold.”
Only after getting permission to leave early—since I supposedly wasn’t the type to be like this—was I finally able to clear my head.
Right. This isn’t the time to be like this.
I looked up at the sky, so blue it reminded me of that day. I didn’t even need a mirror to know my face was probably plastered with exhaustion and emptiness.
“…Open mission window.”
I muttered in a drained voice, summoning the cause of this situation.
[Mission List]
BQ 01. Find the Regressor!
SQ 01. Find the Lost Dream
[Please select a mission to view.]
“Open both.”
[Basic Quest 01]
‘Find the Regressor!’
Content: You have been assigned as a mentor to a “selected regressor.” Find the regressor and prevent regression.
Reward: Young & Rich, Tall & Handsome
“If it weren’t for the ‘young & rich’ part…”
This was something I had to do anyway, so fine. And if I got wealth and fame as a reward, that was honestly a win.
And frankly, I was about to go through military service three times—if there wasn’t at least this kind of reward, I might’ve grabbed the regressor bastard by the collar the moment I met him and asked what he was going to do about my life.
Anyway.
The real problem was the next one.
[Single Quest 01]
‘Find the Lost Dream’
Content: The fastest way to untangle a twisted thread is to find its beginning. Become a trainee idol within the time limit.
Remaining time: 57 days (initially 60 days)
Success reward: Unlock key for regressor tracking clues
Failure penalty: 45% increase in probability of fifth regression
“So this is an idol story now?”
I was glad enough that a system window and quests had finally appeared, but it wasn’t exactly happy news that the genre of my life had changed.
“Let’s try to stay positive, Kang Ha-jin. At least it’s not monster hunting.”
Yeah, at least it wasn’t a hunter world. But asking me to become an idol trainee—something most people fail even after two years—within two months?
The more I thought about it, the more absurd it became, and my irritation slowly escalated.
And on top of that, a penalty? 45%? That’s basically half.
“…So if I fail, I regress again?”
What kind of ridiculous existence is this “selected regressor” guy even supposed to be?
I instinctively pulled out a chocolate bar I had stashed in my bag and bit into it. My empty mind hummed a tune.
“I’m lost…”
Yeah, this song is the standard go-to when you’re lost in life…
I used to want to be an idol.
Since I was young, I loved singing and dancing. On stage? I flew. I was naturally stage-born. I dreamed of becoming a singer, and that dream lasted ten years.
- “Ha-jin’s voice sticks out too much. It’s too loud.”
- “Hmm… it’s kind of ambiguous.”
- “Have you thought about changing your career path?”
Was it lack of talent? Or effort? Or consistency?
If I had known earlier that “good” and “not good enough” were separated by such a thin line, maybe things would’ve been different.
Compliments like “you’re good” came often, but opportunities never belonged to me. It was always like that—chances slipping away without explanation, slowly eroding me.
- “Ha-jin, let’s just try once more.”
- “…”
- “They say there’s potential.”
Potential. Potential?
Maybe I never had the confidence to prove myself.
- “No. I’m done.”
So I gave up on the dream.
I needed somewhere I could be recognized. Something I could prove myself through.
Anyway, it was all meaningless nostalgia now.
“If I don’t do this, I’m getting sent back again.”
I snapped out of it and returned to reality. I grabbed my old-model phone and searched the internet.
<Male idol, audition, entertainment companies>
I cannot go to the military three times. Absolutely not.
The final shortlist had three agencies:
- MiRO Entertainment – a mid-sized agency known for male idols
- René Entertainment – one of Korea’s top 3 agencies
- LIME Entertainment – specialized in solo artists
After organizing everything into an Excel sheet—company traits, artists, audition schedules—I filtered them based on conditions.
Team project data management skills finally paying off.
I eliminated one company where a group had just debuted recently. I suspected the next mission would be debuting, and there was no way that “fragile regressor bastard” would wait for that agency to form another group.
Based on SNS and community digging, all three agencies were either preparing new groups or close to final member selection.
“Can I just go anywhere?”
There wasn’t enough information about whether the regressor was a trainee yet.
The nearest audition was this weekend: a public audition at René Entertainment, one of the top three agencies. Since there would be tons of applicants, it was perfect for blending in and observing.
I thought through the agency’s idol tendencies and mentally reviewed my song list.
Then I wondered how I was supposed to explain this to my mother when I had quit singing just a year ago.
“Seoul?”
“Yeah, just hanging out with a friend.”
“Which friend?”
“…Uh, Kyung-hyun.”
“Alright, have a good trip. Do you have enough money?”
“Yeah, I still have allowance left.”
I momentarily froze trying to remember which friend I used to hang out with regularly in that period, but my mother didn’t seem suspicious.
It was better not to cause unnecessary worry by saying I was going to an audition I’d probably fail anyway.
I filled out the application form with clumsy keyboard typing, suppressing my instinct to write university details or corporate-style motivation letters.
Hold it in, Kang Ha-jin. You’re a 19-year-old.
A blooming 19-year-old youth who can get away with putting flowers on your head and calling it “youth.”
<René Ent. Public Audition Notice>
Reviewing the message with date, location, and instructions, I left home.
On the subway, I listened to my audition song and opened my research file on agencies.
<[René Entertainment]
Artists: Catheon, Sphere, Themis, Lunaland (partial)
Feature: One of Korea’s top 3 agencies. Preparing a new male group due to Sphere’s upcoming military hiatus.
Direction: “Complete idol” concept. ★Visuals, charisma, star quality important★>
Sphere was a top-tier idol group, practically 1st generation status in Korea. With members entering military service soon, a new group was urgently needed.
In my first life—still awkward to say that—I remembered a 9-member group debuting under the name “Lennon” or something like that.
There had been a lot of talk that they rushed the debut due to pressure.
I turned off my phone after mentally reviewing all of it.
Honestly…
‘If I debut here, I’m screwed.’
Sphere was too big, so René rushed things, delayed their next group, and eventually ended up forming an unusually large lineup.
There were rumors that René was obsessed with visuals, and when teaser images dropped, the internet went insane.
[René Ent. new male group visuals.jpg]
“Hey, these guys are insane”
“They didn’t bring idols, they brought gods”
They were called “Greek sculptures.”
I glanced at my reflection on the black screen.
‘I don’t think I’m ugly… but I’m not on that level.’
Even if I could somehow become a trainee, debuting was unlikely.
Still, I had no intention of taking the audition lightly.
Then someone approached me.
“Excuse me, hello.”
“I believe in Taoism.”
“Pardon?”
“As fellow Taoists, please move along.”
Preemptive strike against cults is the best strategy.
I stood up with a polite smile, leaving the confused stranger behind.
I had arrived.
“Next.”
“Kids these days are getting younger…”
The head of new talent development at René Entertainment removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“I don’t ask for much, just… I wish they’d stop overdoing the flashy stuff.”
He sighed.
“Everyone’s too focused on winking and sticking out their tongues instead of singing.”
Even though René valued visuals, they weren’t looking for empty statues.
At least there had to be a sense of what kind of performance they could deliver on stage.
“The 53rd one wasn’t bad,” someone said.
“Did you see his vocal styling? That won’t change even if we teach him. He already thinks he’s great.”
“Ah, like Jung-hyuk?”
Jung-hyuk was a trainee barely hanging onto a debut position.
“He needs to drop that stubbornness if he wants main vocal.”
“True.”
“Where are the clean, simple types? Auditions are exhausting.”
Then the next participant entered.
“Hello, I’m number 71.”
The room shifted slightly.
Black hair, calm expression, sharp eyes. Not bad for a high schooler. Clean skin too.
Interesting.
“Let’s begin.”
The boy showed no hesitation.
The song began without accompaniment.
I can’t forget you forever
To me, you’re a scar I can never erase
Shattered fragments of time
Can I call it happiness?
Can I even say so?
How could I possibly—
It was a drama OST once sung by LIA of THEMIS, now a classic.
Many had covered it, but few matched the original.
But this—
“…He’s good.”
The director’s pen twirled lightly.
Clean high notes, controlled transitions into lower registers, stable breathing.
This wasn’t just decent—it was compelling.
He followed the melody with a deep tone that carried unexpected groove, then closed the final phrase calmly.
The director tightened his grip on the application form.
Still expressionless on the outside, but internally:
‘Holy… jackpot.’
