Chapter 65: Waves of Turmoil
65. Waves of Turmoil
The red sauce stain spreading across the sleeve of my old school uniform shirt—deliberately brought from home—was an unsightly mess.
For the briefest moment, a flurry of thoughts (or rather, a storm of curses) flashed through my mind.
'...That little bastard.'
Most of them boiled down to (to put it mildly) where the hell did this brat learn to act like such an entitled prick? (And that was the polite version.)
'Hold back, Kang Hajin. Not yet. It's not time yet.'
No matter how much of a nuisance that punk was, now wasn't the moment. Especially not in the middle of a waiting room packed with staff. Picking a fight here would only backfire.
'I know that much, at least.'
But damn, was it infuriating.
[System Notification: The System grabs a handful of popcorn. (Exciting!)]
'This bastard's just here to watch the show.'
I decided to ignore the fact that the System had even added popcorn sound effects to its damn pop-up.
I was about to fire back at Han Seong-woo, who was still standing in front of me with that insufferable look, when someone else beat me to it.
"You should wash that."
"Huh?"
Yu-geon, completely unfazed by the tension between me and Seong-woo, casually held out the empty lunchbox to him.
"Wash it before throwing it away. And peel off the stickers."
His tone was light, but coming from Yu-geon—a 180cm-tall delinquent-looking guy—it carried a different weight. Even Seong-woo, who had been puffing himself up, faltered slightly.
"Wh—why the hell should I wash it?"
"You've never done recycling before? That's just how it works."
"Who the hell washes a lunchbox—! Just throw it away!"
"A-Class always does it like this. Weren't you in A-Class too?"
Yu-geon's tone was so innocent, without a hint of malice, that Seong-woo could only grit his teeth, glancing around at the staff. Yu-geon, expression blank, pushed the lunchbox toward him again.
"Want me to wash it for you?"
"...No, forget it. I guess I didn't know. I'll wash it."
As the other trainees, having finished their meals, began gathering around, Seong-woo quickly backed down, not wanting to escalate things. He snatched the lunchbox irritably, and for some reason, the whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth.
'Wait, I didn't wash mine either...'
Was that why he told me to just leave it? Because we weren't close enough for him to ask me to wash it? I couldn't help but feel curious about Yu-geon, who had so effortlessly defused the situation.
Brushing the sauce off my hands, I asked him,
"Does the special class really wash all their lunchboxes?"
"Nah, just messing with him."
"Huh?"
"That hyung's annoying. Just wanted to get him out of the way."
...What kind of guy is this?
"Aren't you on the same team as him? Won't this just make things awkward?"
"Eh, whatever. Not like I'm debuting anyway."
"What?"
"If you're not gonna throw yours away, come on. You're blocking the others."
Yu-geon jerked his chin toward the trainees awkwardly holding their empty lunchboxes behind me. With no choice, I got up, though something about his words nagged at me.
'...Did he just say he's not debuting?'
After sticking around in the special class despite his lacking stats, why would he suddenly say he's pulling out now?
'This is definitely weird.'
Does he know something? Or...
[Single Quest 02.]
'The real lunatic in this place is me!'
Objective: Having entered (or about to enter) Miro Entertainment,
Navigate the suffocating politics and power struggles within,
Find allies to help you debut successfully.
(Removing hidden threats lowers regression triggers and increases quest success rate.)
Time remaining: 6 months.
Success reward: Clue to track the Regressor.
Failure penalty: 85% increased chance of triggering 5th regression.
'Does he think it doesn't matter because he'll just regress anyway?'
Once filming wraps, I need to find Lee Do-ha and grill him about Yu-geon.
What the hell is up with that guy?
"Ah, fuck!"
Making sure the bathroom was empty, Seong-woo let out a frustrated curse. The lunchbox he'd half-heartedly rinsed at the sink was already stuffed into the trash bin.
"Every damn one of them pisses me off..."
Had there ever been a time when things didn't go his way? At first, he'd coasted on his connections—becoming a trainee easily, enjoying all the perks of the special class, and sidelining anyone who got in his way.
"Why the hell am I stuck dealing with these nobodies...!"
When rumors of nepotism started circulating, he'd pinned them all on Joo Eun-chan. He'd even played the caring senior, looking after Eun-chan while the others shunned him, all to polish his own image.
Thanks to Ji Soo-ho, he couldn't secure a spot in Miro's upcoming debut team, but he'd already made plans to follow the department head when he started his own company.
"It's all that bastard's fault."
But ever since Kang Hajin showed up, nothing had gone right. How the hell do I deal with that eyesore?
He'd complained to Yoon CP, who'd reassured him—As long as Hajin doesn't debut, what does it matter? The public only sees the edited broadcast. No matter how well he performs, we can just cut him to pieces. Why would Miro want a rookie who gets bad viewer reactions anyway?
The first episode was just around the corner. Seong-woo decided to hold out until then. Yeah, just until then...
"Oops, my bad."
The voice that shattered his brooding belonged to none other than the source of all his troubles—Kang Hajin.
Hajin, still in his sauce-stained uniform shirt and holding a bottle of kitchen detergent (where the hell had he gotten that?), strode into the bathroom with an infuriating smirk. He'd swapped his inner shirt for a simple black tee.
"Didn't realize you were in here crying. Should've knocked."
"Who the hell is crying?!"
"You were taking so long washing that lunchbox, I got worried."
Hajin grinned, shrugging, then used his height to reach the sink beside Seong-woo in just a few strides.
Whether he was actually here to wash his sleeve or not, he laid the shirt out on the sink and squeezed detergent onto it.
"Ugh, this is too low."
Bending over, the silver necklace he wore jingled as it slipped out from under his shirt. The tie he'd loosely looped around his waist instead of a belt swayed with his movements.
As much as Seong-woo hated to admit it, Hajin's sharp profile and cool demeanor were annoyingly striking.
'Why the hell am I even noticing that?'
Just then, Hajin turned on the faucet. Water rushed out, echoing through the bathroom. As he rinsed his long, slender hands, he chuckled softly.
"But hyung, is now really the time to be worrying about me?"
"......"
"Confident about today's performance?"
That smirk—just a slight tug at the corner of his lips—was always irritating. It carried a mix of teasing, confidence, and an infuriating sense of I see right through you.
A smile that seemed to say: You'll never step into Kang Hajin's world.
"'Waves' is a good song. For someone like you, the difficulty shouldn't be an issue. Your team's decent too, so it's a solid finale."
Splash— Though he'd finished washing his hands, Hajin left the water running. The sound roared in Seong-woo's ears.
"But why do you think I gave you the last slot?"
It was around then that Seong-woo realized something was very wrong. A nameless dread crawled up from his gut, spreading tension and pressure through his body.
What is this? This disgusting feeling—what is it?
"Warm up your voice, hyung. Stop yelling so much. Wouldn't want to crack on stage—you are the main vocal, after all."
Hajin fixed his hair in the mirror, then flashed Seong-woo a bright smile. On the surface, it sounded like a teammate's well-meaning advice.
But Seong-woo knew better. He knew the thorns hidden in those words. And he finally understood the strange, unpleasant sensation writhing inside him.
"Nobody likes being compared, right?"
Hajin had framed the order selection as a "main vocal battle" and deliberately chosen the second slot—ensuring Seong-woo's team would perform last.
"It's hard enough just nailing the original. Getting compared to another team on top of that? Exhausting."
Jung Si-woo, praised by the mentors for his flawless vocals. Kang Hajin, who'd mastered the notoriously difficult original and earned the artist's approval.
And then, after the echoes of their performances faded—his own stage.
"Ugh, survival shows are brutal, huh?"
Click. Hajin turned off the faucet. He dried his hands lightly on a paper towel before tossing it into the trash—the same bin Seong-woo had shoved his lunchbox into.
"Fighting, hyung!"
With that cheerful send-off, Hajin left without a backward glance.
Alone again, Seong-woo looked down. A puddle of water—when had that formed?—was slowly soaking into the soles of his shoes.
"...Fuck. Really."
It was defeat. A strange, unfamiliar sensation for Han Seong-woo, who had always held victory in his hands before the fight even began.
After leaving Seong-woo behind, Hajin peeled off a sign taped to the bathroom door. It read "Staff Only" with Miro Maze's logo printed beneath.
"Piece of shit."
He stuck it back on the practice room door where it belonged, then quickly returned to the waiting room. A blue System window floated before him.
[System Notification: The System admires the Fixed Regressor's ruthless attitude.]
[System Notification: Scary... ((ノдヽ))]
"What did I even do?"
All I did was apply a little pressure.
Did I curse at him? Hit him?
If he just performs well and gets off stage, what's there to blame me for?
"Hyung, hurry up! They're starting recording soon!"
"Hyung! Come quick!"
Seo Tae-hyun and Dan Ha-ru, likely sent by an assistant director, stood at the end of the hallway calling for him. Behind them, Joo Eun-chan passed by, fresh from brushing his teeth in another bathroom.
'At least those kids almost had their dreams crushed because of Han Seong-woo.'
Everyone has the right to dream.
Being born with a silver spoon, having every advantage—who am I to judge? If that's their privilege, so be it.
'But that doesn't mean I have to cheer for people who trample others' lives to fuel their own dreams.'
Without a word, I quickened my pace. I brushed off Tae-hyun and Ha-ru's teasing about my missing sleeve, deflecting casually.
It was only a few hours later that Han Seong-woo, in his finale performance of "Waves," made two pitch errors and three lyric mistakes—all due to overwhelming tension.