Chapter 5: In Search of a Lost Dream (3)
05. In Search of a Lost Dream (3)
At this point, let me briefly reflect on my past lives.
"On behalf of all the children who have grown under the loving care of our parents and teachers, I'd like to thank everyone who came to watch our performance today."
It all started lightly—with me as the kindergarten recital host, dutifully reciting memorized lines from a script. That photo of me occupies the first page of my kindergarten graduation album.
"While I agree with the opposing side's argument that students still struggle with self-control regarding smartphone usage, we must remember that a phone's primary purpose is communication."
"Rather than unconditionally confiscating phones simply because of their entertainment functions, wouldn't it be more productive to teach students proper usage and self-restraint?"
Back when I was swayed by the bribe of sweet potato pizza into being my friend's debate partner, I swept up every award in sight.
"I believe life is a continuous series of choices and regrets. Since childhood, I've made countless decisions—some turned out to be the best, others the worst."
"So? Are you saying you'll regret choosing this major?"
"If regret is inevitable either way, I'd rather make my current choice the best it can be. And now, as I apply to this department, I'm confident this will become a choice I can proudly call my wisest."
That off-the-cuff answer I blurted out when prompted during my college interview became a frequent drinking topic for my professor even after graduation.
That professor—who'd always eyed me for grad school—would often pat my shoulder and say, "With skills like yours, you could probably haggle a department store price down to half."
So the point is, even if I suck at everything else, I've always been damn good at talking. There's a reason I was known as "Presentation King Kang Hajin" throughout college.
"...It took me a long time to gather the courage to chase this dream again."
My "Kang Hajin Life Plan Presentation" was nearing its end. My father didn't seem opposed from the start, while my mother silently watched with an unreadable expression.
I'd already bombarded them with every objective metric to support my case. Now, all that remained was my sincere resolve. My mouth felt inexplicably dry, and I swallowed hard.
"I'm not abandoning my studies during this crucial period. But with this audition opportunity before me, I want to try—even if I fail—to see how far I can go."
That was a lie.
At twenty-nine, I was too old to feel giddy over "rediscovering lost dreams." The odds of debuting as an idol after beating countless competitors were nonexistent, and even if I did, success wasn't guaranteed.
But I needed to audition to stop the regression. And I needed to stop the regression to escape this godforsaken winter for my family.
If reclaiming a discarded dream was the key to ending this loop, then playing the part of a dream-chasing teenager was the least I could do.
"You know I'm good at this. Just give me one year. If it doesn't work out, I'll quit for real."
If I failed this audition, regression would mercilessly reset me anyway. I forced a smile—one that probably looked determined to my parents but felt utterly fake to me.
I'd played all my cards. With a final "Thank you" slide, I awaited their verdict. Silence stretched between us.
"Hajin."
Dad had long passed the decision to Mom, who took her time choosing her words after calling my name.
"...I know you're good at this."
"......"
"I mean it."
Wait, this was dangerous.
I know you're good at this. Those words struck something deep inside me. Memories from my first life—over four years ago now—flashed through my mind.
"And... it's okay if you're not good at it."
An image surfaced: Kang Hajin lying listlessly in bed after quitting his job, paralyzed by self-loathing and fear of facing the world. That version of me still lingered within.
There was no way Mom could know about that future Hajin.
"I just... want you to be happy. To hear praise and kind words. To live without regrets. That's all."
Yet her words felt like they were comforting that very Hajin.
[System Alert: Sudden Quest!]
Objective:A child's wounds are a parent's scars. Earn recognition for the dream you've reclaimed by winning over your mother's heart.
Deadline:Linked with SQ 01 (D-46)
Failure Penalty:75% increased chance of triggering 5th regression
Quest Complete.
Special Reward:Designated Person Trait Voucher (Cannot be used on self)
The system notification confirmed I'd successfully persuaded Mom, but I couldn't bring myself to celebrate. Despite the flashy "Special Reward!" prompt, I felt no curiosity about it.
My clenched fist trembled.
I will end this regression in this life.
<Manager Jang, still no word from that guy?>
<If we don't submit the report this week, we're screwedㅠㅠ>
Jang Seo-yoon, head of Rene Entertainment's rookie development team, sighed at the text from a Miro Entertainment employee.
'He seemed so eager when he took my card...'
She'd expected Contestant #71 to contact her soon, but there'd been no word since that day.
She scoured her phone and email for spam filters, finding nothing but promotional messages.
Logically, it shouldn't matter. Rejections happened, and South Korea had no shortage of aspiring idols. Yet both Miro and Jang found themselves inexplicably restless, like housekeepers fretting over a missed catch.
<Let's just forget ab->
Jang deleted the frustrated draft mid-text, regaining her composure.
Miro had previously traded Cha Min-seok, now the undisputed ace of New Renez. Since Miro had accommodated Min-seok's contract termination, it was Rene's turn to return the favor.
<Our team leader really wants to meet himㅠㅠㅠ>
The desperate follow-up made Jang tear at her hair. The public audition's privacy protocols meant personal details were discarded, leaving no way to track him down.
'I should've taken him straight to get parental consent instead of just handing him my card...'
Jang, who'd once recruited SPEAR's youngest member that way, debated turning off her incessantly buzzing phone. Damn Miro and their nagging...
<This is #71. Since you didn't answer, I'm texting.>
If he hadn't answered, why bother texting?
"...Holy mother of—"
Jang, mid-eye-roll while clearing notifications, froze upon realizing this was her salvation. She covered her mouth, lowering her phone.
"It's him? #71?"
Yoon, the assistant across the desk, instantly grasped the situation and shot up. Though his excessive interest in #71 was odd, Jang needed someone to share this joy with.
Regaining her poise, Jang signaled Yoon to quiet down with a finger to her lips. He complied.
Ring—
Clearing her throat, she pressed call. Timing was everything. No need to sound overeager—Rene and Miro were prestigious enough without groveling.
Play it cool. Act busy. Pretend you barely remember him...
"Hello."
"Hi, Hajin. This is Jang Seo-yoon, head of Rene's rookie development. Sorry for the late response!"
Game over.
The moment she heard that voice—the one from her dreams—Jang knew she'd already lost the battle of first impressions. Even Yoon wore a "welp, you blew it" face.
Damn it, I'm not usually like this.
"No need to apologize. If anything, I'm the one who delayed contacting you."
"Oh, nonsense! The timing's perfect."
Perfectly late. But what good did that do now? Jang strained to maintain a soothing tone, locking her voice into a stable G-note.
"Miro Entertainment wants to meet you ASAP. I've been waiting for your call."
As she spoke calmly, she aggressively typed an internal message to Yoon:
<CALL MOONSHIK AT MIRO SET UP MEETING NOW>
"Thank you. What should I do next?"
"Uh, well—"
Yoon, having finished his call, hastily scribbled on a sticky note:
<Miro HQ, Friday 5PM>
"Friday! I'll send you Miro's address. 5 PM. Works for you?"
"I have school, but..."
"Hmm, then—"
"No, exams are over. Friday at 5 it is. Should I just go to Miro?"
"Yes! I'll join you, so text me when you arrive."
The call ended with polite thanks. Before Jang could exhale, Yoon pounced.
"Well? Is he coming? Will he do it?"
"Jaehee was obsessed with #71 too."
"Boss, it's a national tragedy that our company isn't a twin-eyed nation."
Not that Yoon wanted #71 to replace New Renez's Jung Hyuk—his first trainee love.
But preferences were fickle. Yoon would gladly abandon loyalty and defect to Miro if it meant debuting #71.
"Is a twin-eyed nation really that great? I mean, #71's decent, but you're all oddly invested for a one-time audition."
"True. He chewed me out that day too—'Why didn't you pick #71?!'"
Kim from Team 3 chimed in. Jang had also anxiously awaited #71, but surely not to this extent, right?
"Well, twin-eyed nations aren't inherently better, but..."
Yoon tilted his head, shrugging. How could he explain the instinctive "ultimate bias" radar honed by years of K-pop fandom?
"Let's just say... my type is pine trees."
He gave up and laughed. Jang nodded without pressing further. Soon, #71 would belong to another agency anyway.
Or would he?
"Hello, I'm Kang Hajin."
Friday, 5 PM.
Seeing Hajin with the Miro staff, Jang briefly wondered:
'Should we have made him ours instead of worrying about New Renez?'
Gone was the neatly combed hair and plain attire from the audition. Now, his lightly tousled locks and black leather moto jacket gave off a sharp vibe. Back then, he'd seemed oddly mature for nineteen. Today, there was an edge to him—something almost... intense.
"Hajin, finally meeting you. You've been briefed about today's audition?"
"Yes, through Manager Jang."
"Good, don't stress. Manager Jang, you're joining us."
What is it about him?
Studying Hajin with that thought, Jang followed them into Miro. The milk was already spilled.
'You weak-willed bastard, softer than sugar...'
Hajin was, in fact, pissed. That "intense vibe" Jang noticed? Not her imagination.
And the reason was obvious:
[Single Quest 02]
'I'm the psycho in this neighborhood!'
Objective:Having entered (or about to enter) Miro, survive the suffocating politics and sabotage within. Find allies and debut successfully.
(Removing hidden landmines reduces regression risk and increases quest success rate.)
Time left:6 months.
Success Reward:Clue to track the Regressor.
Failure Penalty:85% increased chance of triggering 5th regression.
85%? You're really trying to kill me, huh.