Episode 91: Since I’ve Regressed, I’ll Quit Being an Idol

Episode 91: Time to Hunt (2)

The word “teacher” that appeared in the video from the Hylliy members.

Honestly, it doesn’t feel awkward at all.

‘No, it actually feels familiar.’

I was a producer who was respected enough in the industry to be on mutual-respect terms even with Bang Ho-kyung.

Being called “teacher” by people my age or older was never a big deal.

“I’m gonna have to teach them a lot once I get in there. Kids who want to be idols not even caring about clashing sounds. Tsk tsk.”

“Don’t be too harsh. They’re cute. And come on, it’s not like it’s a video letter that’s going on air; it’s just for you, Yujin.”

But the reason I said that anyway was because of the man sending me a sly grin: Ji Se-hyuk.

Exactly.

Truth is, I had already arrived at the showcase venue a while ago.

I’m the actual person in charge of this <Mysty> comeback; how could I not show up?

I had planned to just greet Ji Se-hyuk (who kindly made time when I asked) and then go see the Hylliy girls, but they couldn’t wait and sent me that video first.

Of course, the members know I’m not appearing on stage (because I can’t predict what effect my presence would have) and that I’m busy controlling the Orion project, so that’s why they sent something like this.

Which means I unintentionally ended up sharing Hylliy’s embarrassing moment with Ji Se-hyuk.

“Anyway, I knew you were talented, Yujin, but I didn’t know it was this good. I keep thinking we should’ve snatched you up before Yoonje-hyung did.”

“Come on, the lid hasn’t even been opened yet.”

I waved off Ji Se-hyuk’s praise that was dripping with his trademark sly smile.

Like Zia once said, my relationship with Seo Yoonje was practically tampering, so there was never any chance of me going to Ji Se-hyuk’s agency.

As if the casting talk was just a joke, Ji Se-hyuk laughs lightly, narrows his eyes playfully, and continues.

“Yujin, being too humble isn’t good either, you know?”

“Huh?”

“I heard the girls during rehearsal. When you’ve been around places like this long enough, you see things even if you try not to. Like, ‘Oh, these kids are about to cause a huge incident.’ In a good way, of course.”

“…”

“There are songs that hit you the moment you hear them. Songs that make you say things you normally wouldn’t say so easily.”

At Ji Se-hyuk’s smile that has somehow turned warm and proud, I just shut my mouth.

‘I know that feeling too.’

That electrifying, lightning-strike sensation you get from certain songs, dramas, or any kind of content.

It’s not always right, but the certainty in Ji Se-hyuk’s voice made it clear this wasn’t empty praise.

“Hmm. This year I managed to call you in somehow by pulling strings, but next year I might not be able to invite you to my concert?”

But in the next beat he’s back to his sly face and says that.

Realizing instinctively that he’s doing it because today’s protagonists are Hylliy, not me, I finally can’t hold back my laughter.

“Then I’ll invite you, hyung. As a guest at my concert.”

“What? I was being nice and you’re already trying to match me? You’ve still got a long way to go, kid.”

A short exchange of jokes we both know are jokes,

“Thank you so much, hyung. For making time even though you’re busy.”

When I say the one line that sums up every reason I’m here, Ji Se-hyuk waves his hand like it’s nothing.

“Busy, my ass. After <Blind Singer> ended, I have zero schedule and I’m just rolling around at home getting fat. Coming out like this once in a while reminds me, ‘Oh right, I’m a celebrity.’ And you think I’m doing this for free? What, are you planning to come sing for nothing? Then I’ll waive my appearance fee too.”

Laughter leaks out again.

This time it’s a laugh of disbelief.

If you turned that sweater inside out, there’d be a body that could compete with most twenty-year-olds, even if it’s not a full six-pack.

The first reason I’m dumbfounded is that a man who’s never let himself go even after turning forty is making that kind of self-deprecating joke.

‘Besides, even if you call it an appearance fee, it’s basically nothing.’

Since the whole plan was built around Ji Se-hyuk from the start, the MC fee for this showcase was set higher than usual, but it’s still clearly a laughable amount compared to what Ji Se-hyuk is actually worth.

‘Maybe next year it would be different.’

The second reason I’m dumbfounded is that we both know perfectly well that even if we “offset” each other’s fees, Ji Se-hyuk would still be taking a huge loss—yet his offer somehow doesn’t feel like a complete joke.

“Ugh, this is why you can’t joke around kids. Fine, I’ll give it to you. I’ll take good care of them, so don’t worry.”

If this were me from before the regression, I’d probably be frantically waving my hands in panic, but I’m way too jaded—no, too seasoned—for that kind of innocent reaction now.

Acting all pure at this point would just be teasing him back.

“Tch. Yujin-ah, you’re no fun to mess with… So, what are you gonna do? Go see the kids?”

I let the line that sounds suspiciously like something someone said to me recently slide and answer the actual question.

“Well… I was originally planning to show my face, but…”

With more than half the press section already filled with reporters, the importance of this showcase has skyrocketed.

I doubt a little happening like this would shake the girls, but…

‘You never know.’

No need to make unnecessary trouble.

“I think it’s better to just watch the stage from some random seat.”

“If they spot you in the audience, won’t that fluster them even more?”

“I brought a mask just in case. If I borrow a camcorder from the staff and sit in the press section, they won’t think it’s me, right?”

“Wow, you’re full of tricks. So I just call you up on stage at the end?”

At Ji Se-hyuk’s teasing kicking in again,

“I’m bolting the second the last song ends. Anyway, I’ll leave today in your hands, hyung.”

I reply like that and slip out of his waiting room.

“Got it. I really won’t call you up, promise! Hey, I’m serious!”

Leaving behind the kind of empty promise only fools would believe.

***

Kwak Sun-bin, entertainment reporter for Daily Patch.

Everyone who knows her knows this, but Kwak Sun-bin’s true nature is that of a die-hard fangirl.

The moment she first saw the second-gen boy group <Emergency>, she awakened to that truth and decided that being an entertainment reporter would be her lifelong career.

Of course, after entering the industry and seeing all the ugly underbellies she never would have known otherwise, the passion that once burned inside her gradually cooled, but a core nature like that never fully disappears.

“Why did you come to my house?

Why aren’t you taking off your coat?”

There was no way Kwak Sun-bin could resist a voice singing those lyrics that set her heart on fire with such sexiness.

‘Having a girlfriend was actually a plus.’

The days of fantasizing about dating her bias were long gone, and the countless scandals that had cooled her love for Emergency were completely absent here—that was nothing but a bonus.

So it was only natural that she became the seventh member of the <EUJN> fan café.

That’s why Kwak Sun-bin let out a sigh.

Only inwardly, of course, because there were eyes everywhere.

‘Looks like Yujin isn’t coming.’

She had skipped the comeback showcase of Pleiades—the current undisputed empress of girl groups—and come to Hylliy’s showcase, which was being called “a bit ambiguous” at best.

She could make all kinds of excuses, but she couldn’t deny that, deep down, her long-dormant fangirl instincts had reignited.

‘Oh well. Time to throw a little more into the fan fund.’

“Duck-gye-mot.”

Fangirls can’t do fan funds.

It’s practically gospel for most fans, but Kwak Sun-bin knows all too well that she’s one of the rare exceptions.

Her mentor, Kwak Do-young, had deep connections with MyWay, and as long as she maintained the relationships she inherited from him, she could ride waves that ordinary people couldn’t even dream of—dozens of times over.

That voice reached her ears the exact moment Kwak Sun-bin was trying to refocus on her actual job, despite her somewhat impure motives.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

The obvious, slightly annoyed reaction—“There are so many empty seats”—never made it past her throat.

The voice that tripped her up belonged to someone far too familiar for her to snap at.

“H… Han…”

Whatever sound she tried to force out was blocked again, this time by the slender finger pressed over her mask.

“Mind if I sit next to you, Reporter Kwak Sun-bin?”

At the voice whispering in her ear once more, Kwak Sun-bin finally gave up speaking and frantically nodded instead.

“I thought you weren’t coming? Wait—no, how do you even know my name…?”

The question slipped out the moment she regained a shred of reason.

“No matter what, Hylliy is the first group I’ve produced besides my own songs. How could I not show up? As for your name, I saw it on today’s press list and asked the staff.”

Han Yujin calmly resolved each of her questions.

Of course,

“Me? Why me…?”

A new question popped into Kwak Sun-bin’s head the moment she realized he had specifically sought her out.

“I remembered an article you wrote. Something like ‘The Connection from Blind Singer Reunites in Hylliy’?”

“Ah.”

Kwak Sun-bin let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp.

It was actually “The Fate from Blind Singer Season 3 Reunites in Hylliy,” but details like that didn’t matter.

If her ultimate bias said the title was different, then it was different. Easy.

More importantly—

‘He… read my article…? Yujin did…!’

The fact that her efforts had reached the man right in front of her was more than satisfying.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you at least once, and the opportunity came up… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No-no-no-no, not uncomfortable at all!”

She waved her hands frantically at the overly polite words, then instinctively lowered her voice.

She didn’t want the other reporters noticing him and swarming over.

Fortunately, it was still pre-show chaos, and entertainment reporters being friendly with one or two staff members wasn’t unusual, so their conversation could continue a bit longer.

“Here, my business card.”

“Thank you! Oh no… I don’t have mine yet.”

“Yujin-ssi’s face is his business card, and his voice is his business card.”

“Haha, thank you.”

He laughed it off, but inside Kwak Sun-bin was grumbling:

‘Seriously, MyWay? You give a producer this huge project and don’t even print him business cards?’

While she was inwardly complaining,

“Actually… the reason I came to find you is…”

Finally, from the mouth hidden behind the mask came the real reason he had sought her out.

“I really appreciated how deliciously you wrote the Hylliy article this time, and I’ve heard you’ve always written great pieces about MyWay artists… So I thought I’d personally give you a little scoop.”

The moment those words ended,

The fangirl Kwak Sun-bin who had been swooning beside her ultimate bias vanished.

“As long as you keep the embargo properly, it’s a guaranteed exclusive. Would you like to hear it?”

No matter how it started with fandom, she was still a full-fledged reporter who despised the derogatory term “hack.”

‘My image… is ruined…’

Because of the lingering desire to look like a pure fan in front of her bias,

She instinctively turned her gaze away, sensing that her eyes—now sparkling at the word “exclusive”—must look like some kind of bloodhound.

That’s why she didn’t notice.

The corners of the eyes visible above the mask were gently curved downward.

It was a tiny clue of clear satisfaction.

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