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Chapter 03
Searching for a Lost Dream (1)
Was it… a success?
Ha-jin bit his lip as he carefully observed the judges’ expressions, who still showed no reaction even after he finished singing. He had prepared for this audition with the mindset that he’d probably fail anyway, but if he got cut down without mercy, it would still sting a little—this was, after all, his so-called “ace” song, something he’d practiced throughout his trainee days. He was fairly confident in his choice, but maybe he should’ve picked something safer after all?
“Hmm. Yes. We’ve listened well.”
The woman seated in the center spoke slowly.
“Did you prepare a dance as well?”
When he nodded, saying yes, the MR he had submitted earlier began to play.
‘Wait… he’s dancing too?’
Jang, the manager, covered the corners of his mouth with his hand as if casually resting his chin, barely suppressing his rising grin.
A strong hip-hop pop track filled the room. It was a trendy song with simple lyrics and melody.
Jang couldn’t hide his growing anticipation as he watched the 71st applicant begin to move at a steady rhythm. After 11 years in artist development, he could tell—this one was promising.
Turn it up!
Let’s pop it up!
Dropped the beat,
I never gonna screw it up!
“Not bad at all.”
As expected, every movement aligned naturally with the main beat. Some parts looked slightly unrefined, suggesting it might be self-choreographed. Nothing technically difficult, but his body clearly had what people called “dance DNA.”
“Should we tell him to stay for the next round?”
Just when it felt like today’s audition might be a bust, they had found a raw gem. The staff cautiously looked to Jang for approval. With the upcoming boy group debut lineup issues, they urgently needed new trainees.
“……”
“Manager?”
Jang stared at the 71st applicant—Ha-jin—who had finished dancing and was catching his breath while waiting for the verdict.
“…?”
“Ah. 71st—Kang Ha-jin, was it?”
“Yes.”
Normally, Jang would’ve dismissed candidates before they even finished: “Yes, next,” or “You can go.” But this time, he hesitated longer than expected, puzzling the staff.
He flipped through the application again, tapping the corner with his pen.
‘What a shame…’
Good vocals, solid looks, decent dancing—but there was one thing bothering him.
After a long silence, he finally made his decision.
“Thank you for your hard work. We’ve seen enough.”
“Yes. Please wait inside for now.”
The staff nodded brightly at the decision.
“You’ll be guided to the lounge outside by staff.”
“Oh… yes. Thank you.”
* * *
Is this really happening?
Ha-jin stared blankly at the cocoa the staff had given him while he waited. He’d probably be waiting at least two more hours—what was he supposed to do in the meantime?
“…This actually worked.”
He kept muttering it, still unable to believe it. His hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously.
Come to think of it, he always seemed to make it this far easily.
Even though he expected to fail, his shoulders felt stiff, as if he had been tense the whole time.
The interior was overwhelmingly white with gold accents, the signature color of the company, almost blinding. Being a large agency, even an artificial waterfall cascaded loudly in one corner.
What is this place… a temple?
Sipping the steaming cocoa, he looked at the photos of artists under “Rene Entertainment.” Not a single ordinary face among them.
As someone who once wanted to become like them—and at another time, to create them—sitting here felt strangely surreal.
While he was lost in thought, a woman who clearly looked like a final decision-maker entered the lounge.
Wait… I’m not supposed to become a trainee here, am I?
“Hello, Kang Ha-jin.”
“Yes, hello. I’m Kang Ha-jin.”
Even in this critical moment, he politely responded. A practiced smile came naturally to his face.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jang Seo-yoon, head of New Talent Development Team 1 at Rene.”
She got straight to the point.
“I’ll be honest.”
“….”
“If you join our company, debut might be difficult.”
Ah… I see.
I wasn’t planning to join anyway.
* * *
“Pardon? Why?”
Among the judges, the youngest evaluator, Deputy Yoon, raised her voice in surprise at her senior’s words.
As a longtime fan of visuals and idol culture, she was certain the 71st applicant was exactly what the industry wanted.
Great singing, great dancing, and a sharp, striking face.
A perfect catch.
“I thought he was good… he seemed on par with the current New Renez members.”
“That’s exactly why it won’t work.”
Senior Kim shook his head firmly.
“Where would you put him? There’s no position in New Renez for him to displace anyone, and he’s too old to slot into a pre-debut group.”
Ah.
Only then did Yoon fall silent. From that perspective, it made sense.
“Honestly, the only one he could replace is Jung-hyuk… but he fits the team visually and in chemistry. No reason to push him out.”
Yoon bit her lip.
“So for us, it’s better if Jung-hyuk continues doing well. We could technically sign him first and decide later… but morally, it’s better to let someone like that go elsewhere.”
They could keep him as a trainee, but this was a major agency flooded daily with applicants chasing stardom.
There was no reason to waste resources on someone unlikely to debut.
“Anyway, the manager must’ve had a reason for asking him to stay. Heading out?”
“Ah… no. I’m staying for New Renez practice today.”
“Working hard even on weekends. Good job.”
Yoon chewed on cold kimbap she had packed for lunch, swallowing her disappointment.
A visual prodigy… if only he had come three months earlier.
* * *
“Hmm, I guess you’re surprised?”
The woman seemed flustered when I shook my head, even though I had expected something like this.
“I’m not saying you lack potential.”
But that word—potential—irritated something deep inside me.
What mattered more now was why she made me wait here if I wasn’t even going to debut.
“…I don’t usually do things like this,” she muttered, hesitating.
Clearly, this was already more consideration than she normally gave to random applicants.
“Anyway, if you’re open to it, I want to introduce you to another place.”
And then she finally said the name I was waiting for.
“Have you heard of Miro Entertainment?”
Miro Entertainment.
A mid-sized agency run by a former manager from Rene, now rapidly rising with a string of hits over the past five years.
And at the center of that success was a rumor circulating in the industry—
“The guardian deity of Miro.”
They called him a Midas hand in the entertainment stock circles.
A producer who succeeds at everything he touches?
That sounded familiar.
‘Whether he’s really talented… or connected to this insane regression situation, I need to find out.’
I came to this audition at Rene not because I wanted to debut here, but because I needed access to Miro Entertainment. I knew the two companies sometimes exchanged trainees.
A post I had seen before:
[Is it true New Renez’s Cha Min-seok was originally a Miro trainee?]
(photos)
(photos)
– “Yeah, he was originally from Miro.”
– “He was even in Miro’s debut lineup.”
– “Then why didn’t he debut?”
– “He left due to injury…”
Another visual ace from Rene’s lineup had also originally come from Miro. There were rumors it wasn’t just injury—but I’ll set that aside.
What mattered was me.
Would this shortcut from Rene to Miro actually open for me?
If it did, I could slam shut this hellish third cycle of military-service-like regression loops in one move.
“Right now, they’re also recruiting male trainees. So if you’re interested, I can connect you. What do you think?”
Nice!
My inner private first-class soldier wanted to shout.
“…I think I need to discuss this with my parents first.”
“Of course. If you’re interested, text the number on my card and mention ‘71.’”
“Yes. If there’s nothing else, may I leave now?”
“Yes, of course. The exit is the same way you came in.”
“Thank you. I’ll contact you soon.”
After bowing politely to her slightly satisfied gaze, I left the building.
“This is easier than I thought.”
Why was I so nervous about this as a kid?
I looked proudly at the business card in my hand. By the time I reached the subway station while planning how to approach Miro’s audition, I felt a strange confidence rising.
Heh. Hey, you early returner—just wait. I’m coming.
* * *
Standing outside the building, Jang Seo-yoon watched Ha-jin walk away, carefully holding the card in his hands.
‘…He’s like a well-socialized wolf cub.’
When Miro Entertainment was mentioned earlier, his tail seemed to wag like a propeller.
She almost wanted to pat his head.
‘No… maybe a Doberman.’
As his figure disappeared, she shook off her thoughts and stood up. She needed to contact a Miro acquaintance before the day ended.
* * *
“What nonsense is this?”
I’m screwed.
“You’re almost twenty, Ha-jin. Twenty. I can’t allow this.”
Ah… I think I hear someone calling me far away… training camp… the camp is calling me…
“You said you quit everything to study. We even allowed you to take a gap year. I’m really surprised now.”
My mother’s calm face was so serious it left me speechless.
“Anyway… I’m against it.”
The entrance to my life’s carousel, which had just begun to close, opened wide again.
I never imagined the gatekeeper would be my mother.
At that moment, the imagined carousel turned into soldiers running full military drills on a parade ground.
And then the system message delivered the final blow.
[System Alert: Emergency Quest!]
Description: A child’s wound becomes a parent’s scar. Win your mother’s approval and reclaim your dream.
Mom… your son… will die if he doesn’t become an idol…
I can’t even explain this…
