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

Kim Dobin kept glancing at the firmly closed door and soon confessed.

“Dance practice.”

Not only was their pairing unexpected, but the reason also made me tilt my head in surprise.

The most they would do together, I assumed, was gym workouts. But dance practice?

Whether before or after my regression, Seo Yehyun had always hated practicing choreography unless he had to perform on stage.

Since he was bad at dancing, he hated dancing, and his skills never improved-a vicious cycle.

But now, he was voluntarily practicing with Kim Dobin? What had gotten into him? Could it be that even Seo Yehyun received that sys-no, that blessing?

“Yehyun hyung handled the end-of-year festival performance’s synchronized choreography well this time. Though the learning process was a bit rough?”

“Yeah, he did.”

I recalled how Seo Yehyun, possibly fired up from our rivalry with KICKS, surprisingly managed to complete a stage filled with complex synchronized choreography without a single mistake.

That bright smile he had after high-fiving us offstage came to mind.

“Anyway, he seems to have gained some confidence.”

“Really?”

Scratching his head, Kim Dobin continued, showing me a few dance practice videos he had filmed on his phone.

“So, I’m helping Yehyun hyung practice dance, at his request. Well, I’ve got time since it’s vacation.”

Kim Dobin glanced at the room that Seo Yehyun and I shared and lowered his voice.

“But don’t get your hopes up too much, hyung. Dramatic improvements in skill only happen in comics, you know.”

I could guess what Kim Dobin was worried about. If Seo Yehyun’s skills remained stagnant despite practicing, it might cause conflict in the team if I started going off on him.

I shook my head and chuckled.

“He’ll improve, for sure.”

Seo Yehyun’s dance potential was a B, after all, a B.

If he could improve from a D- to a B, of course he would get better.

“He may not look it, but he has plenty of potential.”

His potential was rated B, for crying out loud, B!

If that guy could reach that level, REVE would become a perfect multi-talented group, capable of vocals, rap, and performance!

I wondered why Seo Yehyun’s skills, which had such potential, remained unchanged even after seven years in our pre-regression timeline, but it made sense.

Seo Yehyun’s popularity and busy schedule left him no time to practice, so our choreography was designed to be easy enough for him to pick up with minimal effort.

Back then, he probably never blossomed because he lacked the will. But this time, I’d make sure he did.

And we’d keep moving straight to the top tier, ending this damn endless regression once and for all!

Suppressing the urge to cheer, I glanced toward our room.

There, standing silently by the door, looking blankly at me, was Seo Yehyun. I don’t know when he had come out and started listening.

“Work him hard. Don’t go easy just because he’s a hyung.”

I grinned, not taking my eyes off Seo Yehyun.

Seo Yehyun rushed over to the living room sofa and grabbed Kim Dobin by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously.

“Dobin, didn’t I tell you not to tell him?”

“How many students out there shake their masters so violently-ack! This is a disgrace to the code of martial arts-ack! This is an affront to the master-disciple relationship!”

Kim Dobin babbled on, flailing around like a rag doll under Seo Yehyun’s grip.

“There he goes again, saying some geeky stuff nobody understands.”

“Hyung, are you belittling martial arts as some geeky genre? You’re saying things that would make old-school macho dudes flip out.”

“I didn’t go that far, man.”

I had criticized him a bit for watching anime and reading comics, and now he was into martial arts.

I just hoped he wouldn’t get carried away with weird ideas after seeing weird stuff somewhere.

Seeing Kim Dobin’s face turn pale from dizziness, Seo Yehyun stopped shaking him and snapped.

“Anyway! I told you not to tell him, so why did you?”

“But I’m more scared of Eden hyung…! I was just choked a minute ago!”

“If anyone heard, they’d think I was beating up the members. Don’t twist my neck massage as something else.”

“Who calls a headlock a massage?”

It was just a massage to relieve neck tension, since even the system didn’t deduct points for violence.

I waved my hand, telling the sulking Kim Dobin to head to his room.

“I have something to discuss with Yehyun hyung. Close the door, and don’t eavesdrop.”

I watched as Kim Dobin quickly slipped from Seo Yehyun’s grasp and dashed toward the room. After the door closed, I spoke.

“Why didn’t you want me to know? Just so you know, I’m not picking a fight-I’m just curious.”

“I was afraid you’d criticize me if I didn’t improve…”

I had pushed him hard to get him ready for the stage during our six months as trainees, but I didn’t expect him to still think of me that way.

I had been more lenient since the regression, partly due to the system’s initial impression.

I explained the truth to Seo Yehyun, who trailed off.

“How could I blame you for being naturally bad at dancing? It’s like me not being able to hit high notes.”

At my words, Seo Yehyun let out a choked sound, hurriedly covering his mouth. He was probably reminded of my weak falsetto in the demo track.

I considered bringing up his past failed dance moves and pitch issues but decided against it.

“But you found it embarrassing and avoided trying, right? All this time?”

At my words, Seo Yehyun, looking guilty, lowered his hand and avoided eye contact, staring at the floor instead.

“That’s what frustrated me.”

I continued speaking, regardless of whether Seo Yehyun kept staring at the floor.

“Even during our last conversation, I couldn’t tell you the truth because I was worried you might quit the team if I hit you with facts. It wasn’t because I was afraid you’d drag us down. I just wanted to prove you wrong, didn’t I? Isn’t that right?”

Silence was his only response.

Realizing that I needed a drink to get through this conversation, I quietly got up, grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge, and handed him one.

Usually, Seo Yehyun would rant about the calories in beer, but today he quietly accepted the can.

I tried to soften my words, but the nature of the conversation brought a hint of bitterness to my voice.

“If I had genuinely been worried about your lack of skill dragging us down, I would’ve told you to cut down on sleep and practice more. Instead of insisting we keep promoting with that damn ‘My Universe’ song.”

I still can’t forget the overwhelming feeling I had back then.

Kim Dobin had the skills and would back down easily, but Seo Yehyun was not the kind of guy to be intimidated just because I yelled at him. It was clear that he needed to put in double the effort of others, and yet he showed no will to do so.

After a long silence, Seo Yehyun, who looked like he was about to down the whole beer, finally opened his heavy mouth.

“…You’re right.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t an excuse but a straightforward agreement.

“Back then, everything you said just sounded like harsh words. Now that I think about it, you were right about everything.”

I hesitated, my hand still holding the beer can near my mouth, wondering if I had somehow slipped a truth serum into the beer.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to face the fact that I was the weak link in the team. Denying your words and arguing with you made me feel like I was a better person. Silly, isn’t it?”

At last, I could grasp Seo Ye-hyun’s decision-making process, which had eluded me before. Not that I fully understood it even now.

If I said “silly” here, how much of my “initial intention” would I lose?

To be honest, it was a bit silly, just as Seo Yehyun said. Would covering your eyes stop the wave from crashing over you?

“I wish I had spent that time, as you said, just practicing a little more. We could have created better performances.”

Seo Yehyun muttered to himself, smiling weakly.

Suddenly, I remembered what Kim Dobin had said earlier about the rules of idol possession novels.

He said something about how, in those stories, the most hot-tempered member, the one who caused trouble within the team, would always turn over a new leaf and the team would prosper as a result.

A chill ran down my spine. Isn’t this exactly what’s happening now…?

“I’m sorry.”

The brief apology was the final nail in the coffin of my suspicion.

“Hey.”

“What?”

Seo Yehyun, sipping his beer, looked back at me.

“How much money did you take from me during the choreography practice when we had the follow-up to ‘One Chance’?”

“500,000 won. By the way, you said you’d pay me back over 70 days with no interest, and you haven’t paid a single penny yet, have you?”

Hmm, if he remembers even this much, then he’s not someone else entirely.

“Let’s just let go of trivial matters like that.”

I smoothly glossed over the money issue and looked Seo Yehyun straight in the eye.

Before I went back in time, the relationship between the two of us had completely broken down. We wouldn’t even speak to each other outside of work.

Every day, the youngest member would tell me there were rumors of discord, and I would snap back, asking what the big deal was if it was true. Did I have to act friendly with that jerk?

We only caused each other pain and stress.

Eventually, the gap between us widened, making it impossible for us to understand each other. That was the reality of Seo Yehyun and me back then.

Would my first-round self have ever imagined this?

That Seo Yehyun and I would sit side by side like this, drinking beer and having a heart-to-heart without insults, sarcasm, or raised voices.

“I know you’re trying to be kinder when you deal with me.”

Seo Yehyun smiled slightly, shaking his beer can.

“Of course, sometimes I wonder just how harsh your words would be if you weren’t filtering them.”

That guy was genuinely benefiting from the system, even unintentionally.

Even when I tried to soften my words, thinking about the system, sometimes my initial intention still got cut due to causing discord. If I had spoken without filtering, how much would that jellyfish-like mindset of his have been shattered?

“So, I have to try too.”

Facing Seo Yehyun’s relaxed face made me realize once again how attractive his S+ appearance was.

[“You have achieved the condition ‘A sincere conversation with the member with whom you have the lowest relationship level’ for accessing the ‘HIDDEN QUEST.’]

 

[HIDDEN QUEST]

 

[▶ Improve Relationships with Members

-Content: Through sincere conversations and considerate actions, fill the relationship improvement bar with the members to 100%.

-Reward: Initial intention +20, Item Selection

-Time Limit: 2 years

※ Failure to achieve 100% will result in a ‘regression’ penalty!]

 

[▶ Relationship Improvement Status with Members

-Seo Yehyun (60%)

-Gyeon Ha-jun (91%)

-Kim Dobin (47%)

-Ryu Jae-hee (72%)]

Even Gyeon Ha-jun, who is like this, hasn’t reached 100%, so how am I supposed to do it with the other guys?

And why is Kim Dobin’s score so low in the midst of all this? Is it because of the headlock? Then just how low was Seo Yehyun’s percentage if it was worse than this 47%?

Just as I was briefly overwhelmed by the sudden appearance of a hidden quest with a regression penalty.

[※ System Update Notice ※]

 

[Some of the project participant’s continuous feedback has been accepted, and the system has been updated.]

 

[▷Check Details]

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