Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut!

Chapter 360. Jeju Island’s Blue Night (2)

There was one thing people kept forgetting amid the chaos of the crazy hyungs and distracted dongsaengs: Seo Taehyun might play the role of the “only sane one” in the group, but…

After all, Seo Taehyun was still a member of Kairos.

(Cue images of ‘certain giddy members’ with pixelated eyes—me and Yugeon, obviously.)

This is how Seo Taehyun was born into the role of the screen-time-hungry villain. Fitting, given that Yugeon and I were the ones who unintentionally triggered that transformation. Damn it.

Taehyun, adhering to the villain’s rule of “becoming the final match in the last turn,” played the fool all the way through. He pretended not to understand the game mechanics, acted clueless, and even fed false information under the guise of sharing clues.

He didn’t hesitate to use an item in the final moments to convince Yugeon to follow him.

– But wasn’t the casting board…

– If there are three people left, shouldn’t you have suspected the other two? Are you dumb?

<※ Warning: Fake clues must have a mark indicating they’re fake!>

Taehyun didn’t even use it until the very last 3 minutes, giving Yugeon no time to verify anything. It was classic Seo Taehyun—methodical to the end.

Scary guy… Better stick close to him as an ally for a long, long time.

“Let’s move!”

At the assistant director’s call, Yugeon and I boarded the plane together. Originally, we were supposed to take separate trips to Jeju Island, but with the recent stalker incident and other safety concerns, it was decided we’d at least fly together.

Though we’d be going to different spots on Hallasan, shouting “I love Destis” separately, the fact that we weren’t completely alone on this journey was comforting.

“By the way, what’ve you been staring at for so long?”

Once we were on the plane, buckled in, and waiting for takeoff, I noticed Yugeon glued to his phone. Normally, I’d expect that from me or Taehyun, but Yugeon wasn’t the type to stay so fixated on his phone.

“Why are you looking at my phone?”

“…If you get defensive like that, I’m going to get suspicious.”

I tried to sneak a glance out of curiosity, but Yugeon reacted weirdly. Usually, he didn’t care if someone peeked at his phone, but this time he quickly locked it and tucked it away!

‘Now that I think about it, he’s been looking a bit flustered this whole time….’

Could he be… dating someone!?

Despite knowing our schedules left no room for a social life, much less a relationship, I couldn’t shake the suspicion. You know what they say—love finds a way even in wartime, so why not during an idol’s packed schedule? If other idols were getting caught with secret Instagram relationships, what stopped Yugeon from doing the same?

Moreover, out of all of us, Yugeon had the least ambition to fully commit to the idol life.

He was into dancing and performing, sure, but it wasn’t like he grew up wanting to be the poster boy for teenage fandoms, unlike Taehyun. Yugeon was more of an accidental idol who happened to be good at it.

‘Maybe now that life’s calmed down a bit, he’s thinking about dating. Could those trips home really have been…?’

Once the suspicion crept in, the questions started multiplying.

Still, I decided to play it cool and not jump to conclusions. Yugeon wasn’t the type to just admit to dating if I asked. I leaned back casually and pretended to lose interest.

“Well, anyway, the plane’s about to take off, so you should switch to airplane mode.”

“…Ah.”

When I made the comment offhandedly, Yugeon actually listened and began fiddling with his phone, glancing around before doing as I’d said. He was acting all shifty, but as I pretended to nap, I noticed him finally relax and settle in.

‘Just wait. I’ll find out the truth soon enough.’

Patience was key.

Since I had sensitive ears, takeoff and landing always bothered me, so I kept my eyes closed and stayed as still as possible until we were safely airborne.

“…….”

I cracked an eye open once we were mid-flight, over the sea. The flight from Seoul to Jeju was short, only 30 to 40 minutes, so we’d be landing soon.

“Are you asleep?”

And in that short time, Yugeon had dozed off.

He was out cold, gripping his phone tightly in one hand. Judging by his posture, he’d likely been on his phone using the in-flight Wi-Fi before conking out.

‘Now’s my chance.’

Yugeon was the type to sleep like a log. After all, if you’ve ever shared a room with rowdy younger siblings who roll around everywhere and knock down bedposts in their sleep, you develop a certain tolerance.

“…….”

And I’m the type not to waste an opportunity.

I knew his phone password—0901, his birthday. It wasn’t like I snooped; living together just made it impossible not to know.

I’d even warned him once, “What if a sasaeng or someone bad figures it out? You should set a better password.” But he’d always shrugged it off, saying, “It’s not like I have anything worth stealing.”

<0901>

…I hadn’t meant for those “bad people” to include me, but…

‘Well, here we are, Yugeon.’

I hoped this little event would teach Yugeon to take his privacy more seriously in the future. Cautiously, I checked his phone screen.

“…Huh?”

Apparently, he had indeed fallen asleep while glued to his phone. His screen was still on the same app from before.

“What is this…?”

Fearing I’d find a secret conversation with some girl saying, *‘I’m going to Jeju, babe! I’ll scream your name at the top of Hallasan!’* I felt an immediate surge of anxiety. But it was pointless because all that greeted me was a simple search engine page.

When I tapped on the search bar, Yugeon’s recent searches popped up.

It was the search history of an innocent 20-year-old excited for his first trip to Jeju.

* * *

“We’ve made a slight change to the plan. It’s not feasible to get both of you to Hallasan in time for the shoot, so we’ve decided to send you, Hajin-ssi, to Seongsan Ilchulbong. Because of the longer drive, your return time may be a bit later than expected.”

Once we landed in Jeju, I separated from Yugeon and got into the car prepared by the crew. The PD explained the change in the itinerary.

I didn’t care much about the change of location, as I despise hiking more than strict dieting. My only concern was Yugeon.

“And what about Yugeon?”

“Sorry?”

“He’s closer, right? So is he heading up Hallasan earlier?”

“Ah… no. We received a request from the company not to separate you two. It seems controlling airport access would be difficult…”

“So, he’ll wait for me to finish, and we’ll fly back together?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then it’s fine.”

Having received the answer I wanted, I nodded and added with a playful tone, “I couldn’t leave him to travel home alone.”

It was a comment made fully aware of the camera, but after that, we drove without stopping along the coast to Seongsan Ilchulbong. Since it was a weekday afternoon before the vacation season, there weren’t as many cars as I expected, and we arrived sooner than planned.

“Wow, the weather’s insane.”

The moment I

stepped out of the car and looked up, I was greeted by a brilliant blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and the incredibly lush green slopes of Seongsan Ilchulbong.

“Haven’t been here in a while…”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been here, but I vividly recalled my first visit.

It was during my second year of high school. We had our school trip to Jeju. That was also when I first found out that my ears were sensitive enough to give me airplane-induced ear infections.

I’ve always been a ‘sea over mountains’ kind of person, so I never returned to Seongsan Ilchulbong or Hallasan after that. But I did come to Jeju a few more times since then.

Before I enlisted in the military, after getting a scholarship for college. After I was discharged. And last time…

‘Was it after I quit my job?’

For people like me, who wanted to get away but couldn’t afford an international trip, off-season Jeju was a great option. It was peaceful, quiet, surrounded by nature, and free of crowds. Just floating in the sea was enough to clear my head.

“Hajin-ssi, shall we head up?”

“Sure, let’s go.”

With the breathtaking scenery, we climbed Seongsan Ilchulbong. Even though it was a weekday, there were still enough tourists to create occasional noise. Still, we reached our destination without issue.

The sun was setting, and the sky was glowing with hues of orange and purple. It was almost too picturesque for a punishment shoot, looking more like a scene from a movie.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

“Everyone’s silently enjoying the sunset, lost in thought, but here I am, about to yell a loud love confession to the Destis…”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Feels a bit like I’m a madman shouting confessions on a hill instead of Hallasan, but okay, here we go…”

“Hajin-ssi?”

“Yes?”

“Do it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Well, they weren’t giving me any room for excuses.

Realizing my stalling wasn’t going to work, I resigned myself to the task. I squared my shoulders and looked out at the ocean. The breathtaking view reminded me of another time I stood before the sea, wondering, *“Where is my life going?”* It felt like a lifetime ago.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself. As Kairos’ lead vocalist—ranked number one idol for loudest voice, capable of sending distress calls from a deserted island—I filled my lungs with air and yelled.

“Deeeestiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!”

“Oh wow.”

“Looooooove!!!!!!!! Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!”

The PD and assistant director holding the camera visibly cringed and stepped back a bit, embarrassed. My booming voice echoed over the waves and shattered along the eastern coast of Jeju Island.

Turning back to the camera, I asked, “Did my pronunciation get a bit muddled there? Should I do it again?”

“No, no….”

* * *

After reshooting the scene about three more times, I was given about 10 minutes of free time. Apparently, we’d arrived earlier than expected, and since we had time before our flight, the crew let me take a break.

“Mind if I make a quick call? I want to show someone this view.”

“Oh, of course! Could we film it?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

At the PD’s signal, the assistant director quickly grabbed a handheld camera and followed me. I found a perfect spot where the sunset and ocean were in full view and pulled out my phone to call someone who’d been on my mind for a while.

“Who are you calling? The other members?”

The assistant director asked, half curious and half fishing for more footage. I nodded.

“Yeah, I want to show off a bit to the members, maybe call my younger sibling or my parents…”

“Ahh…”

“But right now, I’m calling someone else.”

“Someone else?”

Intrigued, the assistant director raised an eyebrow. I just smiled and dialed a number from my contacts without hesitation.

I positioned myself so the camera could catch my phone screen as the call went through. Soon, the face I’d been waiting for appeared.

– …Hajin?

“Hello, beloved and respected CEO, my mentor, and guiding light! This is Kairos’ youngest, future, and sapling, Kang Hajin, greeting you. How have you been, sir?”

– Oh? Uh, yes… haha…

Also known as Han-appa, CEO Han, and sometimes, when things go wrong, Han-se-i.

The man who managed to keep Utopia’s Seo Taeil under one agency for 13 years and made everyone in the industry wonder, *“How did Han Sewon pull this off?*”

– Just seeing you kids succeed fills me up.

It was none other than Han Sewon, the head of our agency, Miro.