A Blank Slate Regression For The Idol That Lost His Original Intention

The CEO was humming the melody of <Minky Magic> and scribbling on the notepad in front of him, circling his notes multiple times.

 

Seeing him do this made me uneasy, as if our next activity would inevitably be a remake of <Minky Magic>. Sitting directly across from the CEO, I had no choice but to witness his actions, and I started practicing the relaxation breathing techniques I had learned on YouTube to avoid having a stroke from high blood pressure.

 

‘What are you going to do?’

 

I waved my hand dismissively at Seo Ye-hyun, who was silently screaming in the stillness, to indicate that he shouldn’t worry.

 

I wasn’t going to back down this time.

 

I had endured enough of the agency’s whims before my regression. This time, I would stand firm.

 

The CEO, seemingly seeking confirmation, asked again about selecting the third song as the title track.

 

“<Minky Magic> is a good idea, but since we’ve already bought the songs, let’s use them for this album. So, you think the third song is the best option?”

 

“Anticipating this response, I brought a fourth option.”

 

With a dramatic sound effect from my mouth, I raised my phone.

 

Before the CEO could say anything, I quickly turned up the volume to the maximum and played the demo track, written and composed by Yoon Eden and performed by Gyeon Ha-jun.

 

It was an upbeat dance track with a fast tempo and electronic melody. It was catchy and easy to sing along with, and the lyrics were about having fun and partying all night, reminiscent of a high school prom.

 

The lyrics were a stark contrast to the ones about darkness and black souls.

 

Before my regression, the song was praised by critics when another idol group performed it. It was a verified success, now upgraded to its ultimate form.

 

Looking around the meeting room, I noticed some people already humming along to the chorus, their faces brightening up. It seemed the song was objectively good.

 

Of course, it was my song.

 

As the final note of the 3-minute and 31-second song played, I smiled and raised four fingers at the CEO, whose face looked conflicted.

 

“As the leader, I’d say the fourth option is the best choice for the title track.”

 

The agency had appointed me as the leader, not the more mild-mannered Gyeon Ha-jun, because I was the most assertive and vocal member. Although I had become disillusioned and uncooperative with the agency later, before my regression, I had been the kind of leader the agency wanted.

 

So now, I had to voice my opinions even more assertively, including the ones I couldn’t express before the regression.

 

“How about using it as a follow-up track, like One Chance?” the CEO suggested.

 

Before the CEO could finish, Seo Ye-hyun, who had been silent until now, suddenly raised his hand and spoke in a calm tone.

 

“If we have to promote with the third song, I’d rather pay the penalty and terminate my contract. If we’re really going to use that song, I want to leave REVE.”

 

“Haha, it turns out Ye-hyun has a talent for comedy,” the CEO tried to defuse the situation, but Seo Ye-hyun’s expression was deadly serious, and the CEO’s lips began to tremble.

 

Seo Ye-hyun was currently the biggest draw for new fans, so the CEO had good reason to be nervous.

 

Honestly, Seo Ye-hyun could leave REVE now and easily re-enter the entertainment industry. With the right agency, he might do even better than he did with REVE.

 

It was clear the CEO had luck, not skill, in gathering such talented members.

 

Even though he said those words, Seo Ye-hyun had no real intention of leaving. If he did, he would have left right after we selected the title track for our second mini-album before the regression.

 

Maybe he still remembered my words about why he didn’t speak up during the One Chance follow-up song meeting?

 

At least he had a sense of responsibility.

 

I decided to back him up.

 

“If you won’t use this as the title track, I’ll sell it. Singing Black Soul might really turn my idol career into darkness, so I need to make some royalties to survive.”

 

Before my regression, I had sold songs and then informed the agency. It might have been shortly after one of our fancam videos went viral.

 

The CEO had refused to use my song as a follow-up track and instead tried to bury it, so I chose to sell it to another idol group as their title track.

 

When the agency asked why it wasn’t included in the album later, it was incredibly satisfying to tell them I had already sold it.

 

After doing this five or six times, I completely lost faith in the agency.

 

Later, when LnL wanted me to produce songs for a new idol group, I sold my songs to major agencies instead, having lost all attachment to my own agency.

 

‘But unlike back then, that composer’s song hasn’t been a hit yet.’

 

Before my regression, the CEO was obsessed with sticking to a successful formula he had experienced once. Now, he just didn’t want to admit he had wasted 3.5 million won.

 

Still clinging to hope, the CEO looked around at the staff and other members and proposed, “Let’s be fair and decide by majority vote.”

 

If people had any sense, they’d know which song was better: one that would be disregarded in the future or one that was already a contender for first place on music shows.

 

As expected, the result was almost unanimous. My song received nearly all the votes.

 

I say “nearly” because someone did vote for the third song.

 

Although we couldn’t change our crappy debut song, we succeeded in changing the even crappier title track for our second mini-album.

 

That alone was very satisfying. It lessened my accumulated resentment toward the agency by about 1%.

 

“Then, unfortunately, we’ll have to include the songs I brought as side tracks,” the CEO said, trying to insist on including them somehow.

 

“I want to fill the second mini-album with only good songs. Including those might bring bad luck…” I countered.

 

“When will we get new songs, Eden?”

 

“I’ve already completed three-fifths of the tracks.”

 

Blocked at every turn, the CEO, feeling the pressure, made a final attempt by bringing up the cost. “Isn’t it a waste to just throw them away? They cost 3.5 million won.”

 

The CEO couldn’t let go of his attachment to the 3.5 million won worth of trash, so I suggested the best use for those songs.

 

“You can use those three songs as your morning alarm, CEO. The thought of wasting 3.5 million won every time you hear them will surely wake you up.”

 

With that, the meeting concluded.

 

Ding-

 

A cheerful system alert sounded, and a status window appeared before me.

 

[☺ You have successfully avoided the doomed idol route!]

 

[Reward: +10 Initial Intention, Random Ticket, 1 Penalty Cancellation]

 

[※ But always remember that the risk of downfall remains, so stay alert!]

 

Seeing the system officially confirm that I had escaped the doomed route felt strange.

 

All I had done was promote my song by completing communication quests and changing the title track of the second mini-album to my song.

 

Yes, just that, and the worst period of my life, which I experienced before my regression, disappeared and would no longer exist. It was amusing.

 

I wondered, if I had started seriously writing and composing songs earlier, beyond just making beats and scribbling lyrics during my underground days, if I had communicated more with fans, even briefly, and if I had strongly asserted my opinions to the agency and not backed down…

 

Would those tough three years of obscurity have been different?

 

Could I have enjoyed our songs and performances, like during One Chance, without feeling sick of them?

 

I stared at the sparkling status window, reflecting on these regrets.

 

By the way, having a penalty cancellation is sweet. I could skip a weekly quest with this.

 

* * *

 

After safely deciding on the next promotional song.

 

[☑ Weekly Quest!]

 

[▶ Post selfies and messages on the official SNS at least 5 times a week (Initial intention +2) ▶ Search for fan reactions at least 6 times a week (Initial intention +2)

 

▶ Post selfies and messages on the FROM section of the fan cafe at least 4 times a week (Initial intention +2) ▶ Interact with fans via OA app live broadcast at least 2 times a week (Initial intention +2)]

 

I opened the weekly quest window to check my progress and found a new quest added.

 

Just twice a week! Humming a tune, I checked the quest details, but my excitement faded quickly.

 

The frequency of twice a week was sweet, but the quest itself wasn’t.

 

It seemed REVE had been officially registered as OA stars after receiving approval from the OA app.

 

OA stands for On Air, a video platform where fans and artists can interact.

 

As the name On Air suggests, most interactions were live broadcasts.

 

Although the app was new and lacked widespread popularity, it would later become an essential platform for idols.

 

Birthdays, debut anniversaries, special live streams, comeback countdowns, variety shows, and even live streaming of showcases and concerts would all be available on the OA app.

 

However, OA app live broadcasts were a double-edged sword.

 

Capturing entertaining scenes or viral moments could boost popularity, but any slip-ups or unmanageable situations broadcast live could lead straight to disaster.

 

[ON AIR] Test

 

I entered a placeholder title and started the OA live broadcast. After seven years in the industry, I had learned to be cautious with my words.

 

“Is this right…?”

 

I was a bit clumsy, as I had only hosted a solo fan live a handful of times before my regression.

 

Sure, I participated in comeback countdowns and members’ birthday specials, but solo fan lives were another story. In those, I usually just made brief appearances in other members’ live streams or had the maknae pop into my studio to show me.

 

I looked at my reflection on the horizontally placed phone screen and waved at the quickly scrolling chat.

 

“Hello, Daydream.”

 

[It’s Eden!]

 

[Our dutiful son, coming on OA as soon as we’re registered! 😭😭😭]

 

[Wow, he’s actually greeting us properly, not with ‘how are you?’ or something.]

 

[OMG, his voice is amazing.]

 

“Um… what should I do?”

 

[Why are you asking us, Eden?]

 

[It’s okay, even if you do nothing, just seeing you is fun. 😊😊😊]

 

[EDEN!]

 

A problem arose. I turned on the live stream but had no idea what to do.

 

In group fan lives, there was a script, and I could just follow along or lean on the other members. But now, I was alone.

 

As the silence dragged on, the chat’s tone started to shift.

 

[Cancel what I said about just seeing your face being fun. Do something.]

 

[Is this a silent broadcast?]

 

[He didn’t seem like a man of few words, but now he’s not saying anything at all.]

 

[So boring ☹]

 

[Why did you even turn this on? Was the title a literal test?]

 

[Show us Ye-hyun oppa.]

 

What I excelled at was producing, not this kind of interaction.

 

Was I really a seven-year veteran idol who couldn’t even handle a solo fan live?

 

While I was grappling with a sense of futility over the wasted years, the door suddenly burst open.

 

[Huh? Who’s that?]

 

[Whoever it is, thank you for ending this awkward moment.]

 

[I’m going to stan whoever just came in from now on.]

 

[Is it Ye-hyun? Ye-hyun?]

 

[Our hamster!]

 

A savior had appeared.

 

 

***

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