Episode 127: Summer (1)
“Wow, shit.”
The moment I stepped out of the entrance, that harsh reaction slipped from my mouth.
Even I was startled by how unconsciously it came out. The reason for that reaction was simple:
‘It didn’t feel this hot just a little while ago…’
The heat clung to my skin, suffocating.
Even though I was indoors, the scorching air felt like it could choke me, making me want to grab the closing door and rush back inside right now.
It was clearly a survival instinct, but unfortunately, it couldn’t overpower the rational part of me that had to maintain some social dignity.
“Hoo…”
All I could do was let out a single sigh and force my unwilling feet to move.
‘It’s only just entered July and it’s already like this… what am I supposed to do in August?’
Half the year had already passed, and the season was now summer.
But it was too damn hot.
Of course, summer has been getting hotter every year—I’ve experienced even worse heatwaves on the Korean peninsula.
Yet last year was bad enough, and this heat still feels impossibly hard to adjust to.
‘Is this something the body adapts to more than the mind?’
The question suddenly popped into my head while thinking about regression-related content I’d come across more often after experiencing the anomaly myself.
For example: if a smoker regressed to before they started smoking, would they still have withdrawal symptoms?
‘Ugh… the weather’s driving me crazy, so now my head’s going crazy too. What kind of insane thoughts are these?’
Watching the elevator display count down toward my floor, I shook off the thought.
In my previous life, this life, and any future one, cigarettes were never going to touch my lips—so even if I regressed again, it was a meaningless question with no answer.
Instead of pointless thoughts, I focused on the cool air that would greet me inside the elevator and took one step toward the closed doors.
But—
“Ah, shit…”
Another harsh sound leaked out.
The elevator had passed my floor and gone up one more level.
‘Of all the luck…’
Apparently someone upstairs had pressed the button before me.
Ding!
Sure enough.
When it came back down and stopped, six people were already inside.
“Hey, it’s Yujin oppa!”
The one who shouted my name loudly was Hylliy’s maknae, Lee Roo-ri.
After her, five different greetings flew toward me all at once.
“It’s not exactly a pleasant morning, but—hello.”
My reply drew laughter from inside the elevator.
We’d decided to drop formalities with Hylliy.
The mix of senior/junior status in the music industry and producer/artist roles had created a naming conflict, and the only solutions were mutual formal speech or this—so we chose this.
Honestly, I preferred mutual formal speech.
If done consistently, formal language carried more pressure than casual speech.
‘To protect the peaceful recording studio, that would’ve been better.’
Unfortunately, those kids had already become completely comfortable with my housemate.
For Zia’s smooth social integration, I had no choice but to step back.
“You’ve got a schedule today?”
“Yeah, Waterbomb.”
“It’s my first Waterbomb. I’m really excited.”
Ju Sang-ah’s short reply and Kitano Sora’s now-native-level Korean made me feel summer’s arrival all over again.
‘Polaris used to be regulars at Waterbomb too.’
In this life, I probably wouldn’t have much connection to stages like Waterbomb.
If I wanted to, I could do events like Invincible or Shining Star from Blind Singer.
It’s not that I’d get distracted or have wandering eyes—just that the person watching might not find it so easy to brush off.
“Sounds fun. Have a good one. Oh—and say hi to Ji-yoon for me.”
I waved while mentioning the name that would skyrocket thanks to this year’s Waterbomb.
Then,
“Are you getting in? Hurry up, it’s hot…”
Go Se-na, who had been holding down the open button, whined in a slightly irritated voice.
It wasn’t because she disliked me—it was literally because she was at the very front, taking the full blast of the outside heat.
“Nah. Go ahead without me.”
But I waved my hand dismissively and answered like that.
“Why? There’s plenty of space.”
“It’s fine. Rather than being crammed in this weather, I’d rather wait a bit and go down comfortably. Go on, it’s hot.”
Since I kept standing outside, the Hylliy members exchanged glances, shrugged almost in unison, and Go Se-na finally let go of the open button. The doors closed.
Left alone, I—
“Pfft.”
—let out a small, involuntary laugh.
‘If this were my previous life, I would’ve just gotten in without a second thought, right?’
Probably.
Back then, Hylliy members were just fellow industry people—nothing more, nothing less.
Like Levi said, there was plenty of space, so no unnecessary trouble would’ve happened anyway.
It was purely a mood thing.
‘If it were another group, maybe. But Hylliy is… a little… yeah.’
Being in the same space as my girlfriend’s friends is still too difficult a situation for me.
Because Zia and I have been together for so long—it makes it even harder.
Even if it’s not me showing it directly, but hearing about it through someone else—I still want to look good.
It’s an emotion I never felt in my previous life.
‘Han Yujin, you really are hopeless when it comes to love.’
The realization that Zia occupied such a huge part of my heart brought a strange sense of fullness that I could only let out as another silly laugh.
Self-scolding and the suffocating heat were nowhere near enough to stop that current.
Yes. It was summer.
***
No—correction.
At this point, it’s not just summer. It’s ultra summer. Hellfire summer.
‘Wow… I could actually die from this.’
Above all, that sunlight—it’s straight-up murder rays.
In the short time it took to get from the taxi to the building entrance, sweat was already beading on my forehead. Is this even real?
‘Su-hyeok… maybe I should call him back…?’
Forget manpower shortages at Orion.
I’m going to be in and out of ‘here’ constantly from now on—in weather like this, I’ll die.
At least the lobby’s cool air pushed back some of the heat, but the sweat that felt like melting sunscreen wouldn’t stop.
‘I should’ve just listened to them.’
Seeing the logo of ‘this place’ on the lobby wall brought a wave of regret crashing over me.
Actually, when I told them my schedule today, E-GIS had suggested we move together.
But following E-GIS would naturally mean going to Grace Salon—and if I went there, the designers definitely wouldn’t leave me alone.
Plus, there was a time gap between my appointment and E-GIS’s schedule—I’d have to wait quite a while—so I turned it down.
In hindsight, that was pure bravado.
If I’d known, I would’ve preferred waiting hours here.
But no helping it now.
The water’s already spilled—and I can’t show weakness after coming all this way.
I straightened my posture (which had almost started slumping) and walked confidently forward.
“Music On Net. How can I—ah?”
The staff at the information desk started their usual greeting, then faltered awkwardly when they recognized my face.
“I’m here to see PD Ryu Je-hoon. We have an appointment.”
I’d come to Music On Net’s headquarters.
The purpose: to discuss Project Trinity.
As a representative of MyWay Entertainment, I couldn’t afford to look pathetic.
“I’ve confirmed Han Yujin-ssi’s appointment. Take this and head up to the 7th floor.”
After receiving the guest pass from the now-composed staff, I passed through security.
A short while later, I met PD Ryu Je-hoon for the first time.
“Welcome, Yujin-ssi. I’ve heard a lot from Director Seo. I’m Ryu Je-hoon. Like ‘ai’ in child, not ‘uh’ in uh-oh.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Han Yujin.”
There was no chance of confusion since he’d already seen the proposal, but Ryu Je-hoon still spelled out his name clearly.
We’d never met in my previous life either.
Starlight hadn’t participated in Project Trinity at all, and by the time I properly appeared on variety shows, he was already gone.
So I’d never heard what kind of PD he was—but there were still a few clues I could guess from.
‘For one thing, he’s definitely open-minded.’
YouTube may have become mainstream and internet broadcasting has seeped deeply into daily life, but it’s still considered somewhat niche content.
If someone is open-minded enough to fully embrace that format, they’re not just “open”—they’re wide open.
Moreover, even with the halo of the name “Seo Yoonje,” the fact that he was willing to place someone only twenty-five years old at the very core of such an important program showed just how open his mindset truly was—like doors flung wide.
But there was one more reason I couldn’t simply accept it all at face value.
‘No matter what anyone says, this is someone who’s been rolling around in Music On Net for years.’
Music On Net was the birthplace of the phrase “devil’s editing” and still proudly maintained that questionable tradition.
Becoming the person in charge of such a major program at a place like this was proof in itself that Ryu Je-hoon was far from ordinary.
Even setting aside his open-mindedness.
“I watched your INDEX appearance. That wasn’t normal-level skill.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Too kind? Ever since then, Soyagok’s been going back and forth with Love Luck on the charts, hasn’t it?”
Ryu Je-hoon stopped there and gave a sly grin.
He didn’t continue, but that smile somehow seemed to say,
“Thanks to you, it’s gotten a little easier to reel in the higher-ups.”
There had certainly been that kind of purpose behind the collab with Lee Ahjeong, but recognizing it—and not recognizing it—made a huge difference.
‘As expected… it’s not going to be that easy.’
Still, the fact that he wasn’t openly showing wariness was something to be thankful for.
“I watched the videos of the recommended trainees you sent too.”
“What did you think?”
“Seol Nari, right? She’s on par with trainees from the big agencies.”
Ryu Je-hoon stopped there and didn’t continue the evaluation.
It was as if Chaekyung and Soyoung weren’t even worth mentioning.
Instead,
“And I also got the impression that you’ve got a pretty good understanding of our program.”
He only said something that felt slightly off-target.
But hearing that actually put me a little at ease.
From this short exchange, I realized that while Ryu Je-hoon was certainly capable, his skill level wasn’t at monster tier.
More precisely—my strategy didn’t seem to have been caught.
He only mentioned Nari when talking about skill.
But at the same time, he was praising my trainee selection.
It looked like he’d judged that my plan was to offload the shackles (obviously not really) named Soyoung and Chaekyung onto other teams.
‘If even the PD thinks that way… it’s working perfectly.’
That was the biggest reason I hadn’t taught Soyoung and Chaekyung anything specific and just pushed their stamina as high as possible.
So that other producers would see MyWay scattering landmines and try to avoid those two at all costs.
In the end, the only reference material the other producers would have when building their teams was exactly the videos Ryu Je-hoon just mentioned.
The thicker that misunderstanding grew, the better. There was no need to correct it.
Spreading that rumor aligned perfectly with my goal.
When I gave an ambiguous smile, Ryu Je-hoon returned one that carried the nuance of:
‘Yeah, figured as much. Still young.’
It was a nuance no ordinary twenty-five-year-old would’ve caught—but the person sitting in front of him right now was an irregular who had lived far longer than Ryu Je-hoon.
It wasn’t hard for me to read it.
‘Well… I can’t exactly blame him.’
Ryu Je-hoon was just doing his absolute best in his position.
I suddenly had the feeling that if Soyoung and Chaekyung started revealing their hidden light, he wouldn’t be the type to turn a blind eye.
Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.
Any PD with proper eyes wouldn’t just sit and watch when I finally lifted that veil.
“Ah, by the way—I almost forgot to mention this.”
As if suddenly remembering something awkward, Ryu Je-hoon blatantly changed the subject.
“I already explained the plan to Soyoung and Chaekyung, but continuing that conversation isn’t exactly pleasant for me either, so—”
“What do you mean?”
I pretended to be clueless and took the bait.
“The official announcement hasn’t come yet, but the other agencies’ producers already know.”
Then Ryu Je-hoon dropped the real bomb behind my head.
“Starlight also sent in their intent to participate. We’ve got a total trainee abundance right now.”
Them… why the hell are they here…?
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TL Note:
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[This series is in the “Regressed Idol” collection]
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