Chapter 7: The Real Madman Here Is Me (2)
07. The Real Madman Here Is Me (2)
My strike lasted exactly ten minutes.
[System Alert: The system declares a strike as well...]
"Fine. Let's all die together then."
[System Alert: You crazy bastard...]
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Though I could feel the system window trembling violently, based on my experience over the past few days, this thing had no choice but to cooperate with me eventually. After all, it was the 'Voice' that had dragged me into this mess under the guise of helping me.
'Whatever it takes, I'm squeezing every last drop out of this bastard.'
The system seemed to be constantly calculating something, with "Input in progress..." flashing repeatedly. Based on experience, it was good to pretend to compromise at this point.
"Listen carefully, System. Ah, can I call you System? I don't have any other suitable name for you."
[System Alert: ....... (Wary of Fixed Regressor)]
"Look, I'm not asking for some omnipotent power or anything. I'm a reasonable person, okay? But by any reasonable standard, you're being way too uncooperative right now. What's the difference between having you and not having you at this point?"
[System Alert: ....... (Remains on high alert)]
"Let's find a reasonable middle ground, yeah? That's what negotiation is all about. Anyway, me clearing these quests successfully is the best path forward for everyone, right? So here's the thing—"
I smiled slyly and cracked my knuckles to ease the tension. The system window fizzed and distorted.
"You've got them, right? Skills?"
[System Alert: Wh-what are you talking about?]
"You can use them. ...That 'Chosen Regressor' can."
At my outright thuggish demand (?) to hand something over, the system clearly responded:
[System Alert: (Fixed) Regressors are not provided with separate skills...]
"So it's not that they don't exist, but that Fixed Regressors don't get them? Wow, hearing that as a Fixed Regressor is really disappointing. I've staked my entire life on this, even resolved to mentor the Chosen Regressor, and this is the discrimination I face? This should be on the news."
The system window trembled even more finely. I crossed my legs, propped my chin on my hand, and smiled amiably. Kang Hajin's Negotiation Principle #27: Always position yourself as the dominant party. It all starts with an air of relaxed confidence.
"Anyway, the fact that skills exist as a stat means we've got plenty to talk about, right? In many ways."
[System Alert: ...The system is terrified by the (Fixed) Regressor's madness!]
"Yeah, the fact that I'm a madman is something we can slowly figure out together."
Another ten minutes later.
After finishing my "negotiation" with the system, I stretched my stiff neck when new text appeared on the system window—now almost devoid of its original blue hue, as if it had gone pale.
[System Alert: Skill System (Update!) has been registered.
ㅡ(Fixed) Regressor 'Kang Hajin' can 'self-generate' skills necessary for quest completion.]
[System Alert: User's system is not the standard patched version! (Error)]
[System Alert: Until system stabilization is complete, skill generation and execution will require a penalty. (Penalty)]
[System Alert: Would you like to generate a skill? (Y/N)]
I had managed to strong-arm the skill system out of the system by fully committing to the lunatic act, but since I'd forcibly accessed permissions I wasn't supposed to have, I couldn't avoid some kind of "penalty."
'Still, this is manageable.'
If I were to compare this to a game, while the Chosen Regressor would be the "player," I was closer to an "NPC." That was the logic I'd used to get this result.
Unlike players who "acquire" skills through tutorials, NPCs usually have skills pre-set in their coding. So even if I couldn't receive skills from the system, I could reconfigure the skill system itself to fit my parameters.
I pressed the skill generation button while thinking about what skill I'd need tomorrow. Since I'd already received the audition details—which involved recording—I had a rough idea of what might be useful.
A bomb detector? It'd be convenient to know who to pick and who to leave behind. But that was basically cheating, so the penalty would probably be severe. Shelved.
What about idol stats? Not bad, but since I wasn't even a trainee yet, it wasn't immediately usable. Hmm. Shelved too.
After some deliberation, I input the skill I had in mind.
"Can this work? A skill that lets me express whatever I think or say."
[System Alert: More specific parameters are required for skill generation.]
"Like an expression booster. Whether abstract or concrete, it lets me convey exactly what I'm thinking or imagining through singing or dancing."
[System Alert: Calculating skill generation probability...]
A "skill that creates skills" was undoubtedly broken, so for balance reasons (I assumed), I couldn't just make any skill I wanted. As I calmly watched the numbers spin, more alerts chimed in succession.
[System Alert: The skill's content is effective for quest progression! Generation probability increased. (Calculating...)]
[System Alert: Skill generation is possible!]
[System Alert: Generate skill <As You Say>? (Y/N)]
Why do you keep asking?
I mashed Y without hesitation.
Seo Tae-il, leader of Uphia and famously known among fans as "Crocodile PD," thought to himself:
'What the hell is up with this kid?'
He had only come because the department head—who had personally cast Uphia's members and had been their manager during their rookie days—kept insisting, but truthfully, he hadn't been keen on it from the start.
This test was a method the department head often used to weed out trainees he didn't like.
'I was sick of being his excuse to kick kids out, so I almost didn't come.'
Unfortunately, Tae-il, who secretly harbored ambitions of nurturing Miro's next-generation idols with his own hands, had a vested interest in potential future juniors.
'They might end up singing my songs someday—I can't just pick anyone.'
For that reason, Tae-il had fully intended to storm out of the recording booth the moment today's session failed to meet his standards, regardless of whether this kid was some rare trainee Rene had barely managed to snag.
Can't you see it?
The swapped moon and sun,
A new universe awakens
The first step already taken
Will soon become history
Can you make it?
Can you come this far?
My endless racing
At the edge of this world
I'll ultimately become the era
That had been his mindset—until he saw this trainee flawlessly deliver his debut song, a track even Uphia's main vocalist had struggled with at first.
'Well, our fourth is still way better.'
Comparing a 12-year veteran top idol main vocalist to some trainee hopeful was already an insult to our fourth member. With that thought, the notoriously doting Seo Tae-il (internally) lamented the state of Uphia's main vocalist—who had become a practice room hermit after losing his touch post-military service—before keying the talkback mic.
"Try flowing the pronunciation more in the 'racing' part. It should rhyme with 'this far.'"
"Ah, got it. I'll try again."
That said, credit where credit was due.
His natural tone and skills weren't bad, and his vocal range was decently wide. But if that had been all, Tae-il would've handed him taxi fare and sent him home without a second thought. His tone wasn't extraordinary, and his skills weren't mind-blowing.
'But damn, he takes direction well.'
The real kicker was how he perfectly translated direction into performance. "Intense but not overwhelming, rhythmic yet enunciated"—he nailed Tae-il's instructions in one take! Watching Hajin, Tae-il chuckled dryly, wondering if this was what raw talent looked like.
After several recording takes, the department head left with a face like he'd bitten into something sour. The moment he was fully out the door, Tae-il playfully nudged the man seated beside him.
"Congrats, hyung. You won this round."
"Won what?"
"Don't play dumb. Isn't he the kid you scouted?"
Tae-il shrugged as if to say, "Who are you fooling?" The man next to him—Team Leader Ji Soo-ho—finally exhaled deeply in relief.
"Who doesn't know about the bad blood between you and the department head? It was obvious he set this up to fail your pick."
"Talking like that with Manager Jang right here, really."
"Oof, I heard nothing. Pretend I'm not here."
As talk shifted to Miro's current political landscape—the hottest topic in the industry—the sharp-eyed Manager Jang Seo-yun turned away, feigning ignorance. Soo-ho offered an awkward smile before schooling his expression into something more serious.
"So, what's your take? Is he good?"
"How could he not be? Don't show this to our fourth—he'll dig himself into the ground again."
"Han-sol still does that after 12 years?"
"With 12 years of seniority, imagine how deep he can dig. Kid topped his unit in shovel drills during military service."
Though shaking his head in exasperation, Tae-il was smiling. Yet his gaze remained razor-sharp as he stared into the recording booth, adding sternly:
"You have to bring him in, hyung. For the next generation, I want to see the kids you nurture, not the department head's."
"Tch, keep it down, will you?"
Soo-ho grinned at Tae-il's earnestness before keying the talkback. Inside the booth, Hajin—having finished his recording cleanly—was looking their way with an expression that seemed to say, "You don't need to tell me—I already know I aced this."
"Yes, Mr. Kang Hajin. Well done."
Finally, the audition was over.
[System Alert: Proficiency for skill <As You Say> (LV.1) has increased.]
[System Alert: Skill <As You Say> (LV.1) ▶ (LV.2) leveled up!]
[System Alert: Penalty incurred due to <As You Say> skill generation.]
[System Alert: Mental Care effects temporarily reduced due to penalty.]
Devilish Seo Tae-il.
Professor-like Seo Tae-il.
During the break before my post-recording interview, I chugged mineral water while mentally attaching every vicious epithet to Tae-il's name.
'Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do, but make it sound like you're vomiting the notes...'
What kind of maniac makes someone repeat a single word a hundred times when it's not even part of the actual recording? The fact that Uphia re-signs every album despite this torture proves they're all insane.
'...Should I reconsider the company?'
No matter how I looked at it, debuting here meant going through that man's hands at least once more, and I wasn't sure I could endure it twice.
[System Alert: Further quest sabotage will not be tolerated!]
"I won't, I won't. That'd be more annoying."
[System Alert: The system regains its peace.]
This thing's getting chattier by the day...
I glanced at the system window before switching it to check the penalty I'd skimmed earlier.
[System Alert: Mental Care effects temporarily reduced due to penalty.]
'Don't feel anything different yet.'
I still firmly believed this was my fourth regression, and aside from the parts battered by Seo Tae-il, my mental state remained intact.
"Mr. Hajin. I think you can go in now."
"Ah, Manager Jang."
Manager Jang, who had sent me out earlier while the Miro interviewers had their "adults' talk," was suddenly walking toward me.
"I need to head back to the office now. Manager Kim will probably drive you home later."
"I can go alone. Thank you for today."
"Not at all. You did really well, Hajin."
For some reason, Manager Jang looked at me with eyes brimming with something nostalgic before reverting to his usual expression and offering a handshake.
"...? Ah, sure."
"No, show me your hand."
"Huh?"
...I thought it was a handshake, but no. As soon as I reflexively gripped his hand, he laughed and placed something carefully wrapped onto my open palm.
"Open it when you get home. We've got your first fan at our office. They begged me to deliver this."
"...A fan? Me?"
A fan? What fan? My face scrunched in confusion at the absurd notion. Seeing my expression, Manager Jang chuckled, patted my shoulder, and walked off down the hallway.
'What fan could I possibly have?'
Though told to open it at home, my curiosity got the better of me, and I unwrapped the package right there in the hallway. Inside the carefully opened gift box was an elegant chocolate paired with a short note.
—Someone who wants to be your first fan.>
"...A fan?"
It felt strange. Unreal emotions stabbed between my ribs like tiny knives.
Who? What had they even seen of me to call themselves a fan already? And what kind of delusion made them anticipate my "star" days when I wasn't even a trainee?
Then—
[System Alert: Due to reduced Mental Care effects, control over rationality and emotions is temporarily weakened! (Penalty)]
What?
"Ughk..."
Before I could fully process the message, something surged up, heating my eyes. What? Am I crying? I mean, I was touched, but not to this extent?
"Hic... snf..."
But true to the system's warning about losing control over emotions, I suddenly became a delicate flower with 5,000% sensitivity, tears streaming down my face. In my frantic effort not to drop the chocolate, I became a complete mess.
Just looking at the chocolate and note made tears well up again, so I tilted my head back sharply to stop them—when:
"...Mr. Kang Hajin?"
The timing, seriously, what the hell.
At the end of the hallway stood Seo Tae-il, eyes wide, staring at me. How long had he been there?
"Are you crying right now?"
Oh god. Please tell me this is #JustAMisunderstanding?