RAT Chapter 1 (Part 3)

For the first time, he really looked his age, and I gave a small wave with a laugh. Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun were stiff as boards too.

Well, there’s no need for things to start off awkward.

“—Uh, no, that’s not what I—”

“—Right, we just meant… you’re good at everything…!”

Maybe they were thinking the same thing, because both of them rushed to defend him.

They said things like he was strict but definitely talented, or that his sense would be a big help when producing albums.

Words that obviously wouldn’t describe any ordinary eighteen-year-old trainee—unless he were the Regressor.

The perfect producer they’d heard about—“Park Yeoul”—turning out to be a trainee so ordinary he’d been bullied at JM left them scrambling for explanations as they glanced at the Regressor, hoping he’d somehow clear things up.

“Hyung. So, who was it?”

“……”

“Who did that to you?”

The Regressor—Eden—ignored their desperate looks completely and kept his eyes only on me.

“Tell me. Please?”

Smiling with a face no one would ever mistake for a seventeen-year-old’s.

Yeah. I get it. You’re not even trying to hide that you’ve regressed. But still…

I let the tension fade from my forced smile and locked eyes with him.

“But, I don’t even know your name yet.”

“……”

“This is already the second time I’ve seen you.”

At the word “second,” he clenched his jaw, and I made a small sound of realization.

Catching the eager spark in his eyes, I tilted my head with a playful look.

“Team Leader Seo Dong-hoon told you, didn’t he?”

“…What?”

“Director Kim Yeo-jin said the same thing. That because the team leader talked about me so much, it doesn’t feel like the first time meeting me.”

“……”

“So, what’s your name?”

I coaxed the words out gently, and the Regressor let out a low sigh and closed his eyes tight.

“…Eden. Seventeen. Rapper. I’m debuting with you.”

—A declaration disguised as a self-introduction.

“Oh… isn’t that practically a confession?”

“Yeah, seriously. That’s impressive.”

Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun must have seen Eden’s insistence—or arrogance—as some kind of confession, but no way. This was a challenge.

It wasn’t “I’d like to debut” or “I will debut someday,” but an outright statement of certainty: “I’m debuting.”

I thought of the lie I told the first day we met—“It’s my first time as a trainee”—and just smiled.

Oh, is that so? But I have no intention of debuting with you. I’m sick of it.

“Sure—let’s work hard together then.”

I deliberately turned my back on the Regressor and looked at the other two.

What did I do in the loops he remembers to make him this certain?

Did I brag about future events to convince him I’d regressed? Or did I reset right in front of him, thinking it was fine since I’d regress anyway?

…I’ve done so many crazy things I can’t even guess. Damn it.

Meanwhile, Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun watched the two of us with warm eyes that only made my stomach twist.

Why were they acting like that? They’d always been obedient, sure, but never this clueless.

I’d patched things up with a quick story about Team Leader Seo, but it was nowhere near enough to explain everything Eden had clearly said about me.

When they said I was scary when teaching dance—how would someone who’s never learned from me even know that?

Is there some kind of perception–blocking feature that only works on the Regressor? Otherwise it doesn’t make sense that their awareness could be this low. They have brains, they should be capable of thought.

Is this a world that’s only kind to the Regressor or something? Maybe he can even see a system window?

…Ha ha, I’m doomed.

I’d been uneasy from the moment I realized how early this loop started. Even when I decided to go to the audition instead of restarting right away, a part of me suspected it. I must be affected by the body of a younger mind.

Otherwise I wouldn’t be getting this angry at every little thing the Regressor does—though, to be fair, his every move really is infuriating. But I’m used to that by now.

As I kept repeating to myself that I needed to act like an adult, Moon Taeyoung jumped in as if he’d been waiting.

“Ah, I’m eighteen. Position’s main dancer. I think we’re the same age, so can I speak comfortably… yeah?”

“—Sure. I’m fine with that.”

You were already half speaking casually anyway. I swallowed the comment and looked at Kim Dojun. He gave a wide grin and followed up with his own introduction.

“I’m eighteen too, same rap position as Eden. I can speak casually too, right?”

“Ha ha… sure. I’m going to anyway.”

Right. My real answer is “No, absolutely not,” you little punks.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we all tried using polite speech to show mutual respect? But saying that out loud would be awkward.

I kept my thoughts to myself and smiled in a friendly way. The two of them acted like they’d forgotten this was our first meeting. They grabbed my hand and pulled me down to sit on the practice room floor, saying I should rest now because training would get intense soon. The same floor where who knows how many people have danced, sweated, and shed dust.

…Act like an adult, Park Yeoul.

I tightened my thigh muscles and managed to stop before my hips actually touched the floor. Ha, letting myself fall like that would be shameful. I’ve practiced dance far too much for that.

I sneaked a glance at the Regressor, but he didn’t seem to think any of this counted as evidence of my regression.

Whether I sat or not didn’t matter to Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun—just sitting themselves on that filthy floor seemed to satisfy them. They smiled and kept talking.

“But it’s kind of amazing.”

“…What is?”

Is there really something more surprising than your strangely flower-filled heads or the Regressor casually declaring his status as if it were breathing?

I asked sincerely, and Moon Taeyoung answered with a serious face.

“Your face doesn’t have any music.”

“…Huh?”

—Well, of course. I’m not the main vocalist.

If “a face with music” means what I think it does, then Jin Yoorim doesn’t have it either. There’s a reason the Regressor once called her a singing doll.

…Alright, enough daydreaming. Whatever Moon Taeyoung means, it sounds like a mash-up of “main vocalist” and “Park Yeoul,” which doesn’t fit at all.

But our dear Regressor can’t possibly not know that Jin Yoorim is the main vocalist.

“What do you mean?” I asked kindly.

Kim Dojun gave a strange laugh and answered for him.

“Honestly, you kind of look like a main vocalist type, don’t you?”

“There are definitely people who have that ‘music in their face’ look.”

“Yeah, like when there’s a bit of softness in the cheeks?”

“Or a strong jawline, maybe?”

Then both of them looked at me and made an exaggerated “hmm” sound.

“But no matter how we look at you, there’s no music in your face.”

“You’re just plain handsome, that’s all.”

“…Ha ha, that’s a compliment, right?”

I hadn’t asked what a face with music was supposed to look like, but sure. I gave a small, polite laugh and, after finishing my own introduction, kept sneaking glances at the unusually quiet Regressor.

From the outside, it would just look like I was distracted by another trainee sitting alone while joking around with the others.

Sure enough, Kim Dojun followed my gaze and waved his hand.

“Eden just likes being by himself.”

“Yeah, he’s the quiet type.”

…The Regressor? No way.

When he’s with Jin Yoorim, on average he curses once every five minutes and tugs at his hair once—well, maybe not exactly, but he was never the quiet type.

—Was that line about “waiting so long” not just a figure of speech, but literal truth?

There aren’t enough clues yet to figure out how the Regressor’s memory will affect this loop.

Maybe I’m overthinking. After all, Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun joining the debut lineup later than me but already sticking close to the Regressor might mean something.

Maybe the Regressor is the one acting with a clear goal this time.

Making D.I.Y. a success, and a successful romance with Jin Yoorim.

If that’s the case, maybe I can just sit back for once. Maybe I don’t have to step in at all…

…Ha. Yeah, right.

The fact that Jin Yoorim isn’t here right now, and that these two think I’m the main vocalist, is obviously something the Regressor set up.

I forced myself not to look at him and instead asked, with as much curiosity as I could muster,

“But why do you think I’m the main vocalist?”

“Huh? Eden said that once you arrived, it’d be all set—oh, wait, he said not to mention that.”

“…Aha?”

I kept repeating to myself that I should act like an adult, but Moon Taeyoung’s words finally made me snap.

Come on. I’m eighteen. Why am I trying so hard to act mature?

Fine. Let’s do this.

“But I’m not aiming to be the main vocalist. I’m a terrible singer—really awful.”

“…What?”

At my words, both of them turned to the Regressor in shock. I tilted my head and gave them a bright, cheerful smile.

“Taeyoung, how tall are you? If we end up as co–main dancers, our heights should match, right?”

My sudden rival declaration left Moon Taeyoung looking like he might cry, but so what. Complaints aren’t being accepted. Take it up with the Regressor.

---

Luckily, the situation—awkward only for Moon Taeyoung—ended quickly when training began.

It wasn’t like what Taeyoung and Kim Dojun had said about grabbing a chance to sit whenever possible, but the session was still tough.

I might have the know-how, but I don’t carry over the stamina of someone who’s toured hours-long concerts from one loop to the next.

After the warm-up and basic drills, we moved on to END’s official trainee choreography, which was harder.

…Pretending to be only slightly good at something you’re actually great at is always the hardest.

It would look strange for a JM trainee to know every step of a rival agency’s dance routine, especially with the Regressor glaring daggers at me from right behind.

But it would be just as suspicious to seem completely incompetent after saying I was aiming for a main dancer spot.

So I had to keep repeating tiny mistakes—entering a beat late, hesitating when the moves switched—as if I were learning the routine for the first time.

After nearly thirty minutes of deliberate missteps, I started slipping up for real, even when I thought I’d gotten the balance right. Embarrassing.

…What an actor I’ve become, fooling even my own body. Maybe I should have been an actor instead of an idol. Not that I can cry.

It would have been perfect if the day ended there, but of course not.

As soon as the trainer gave us a break, a few trainees I barely remembered started sneaking glances at me.

They were clearly trying to show some seniority. But since they were just the second wave after Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun, it didn’t bother me at all.

They’d laugh among themselves at private jokes and glance my way every time… honestly, it was more cute than threatening.

…Adorable, really. Full of energy and ambition.

I must have been staring at them absently, thinking how nice this stage of life is, because the Regressor clearly saw it differently.

“What are you thinking about?”

“…Excuse me?”

“When someone’s scared, their voice gets louder.”

“…Ha ha ha?”

And then he casually dropped another bomb. Not just a grenade without the pin—this was like stuffing bullets into it too.

The laughter of the “scary little chicks” instantly faded to nothing.

The Regressor didn’t care at all about the shift in the room. He kept studying my face and continued.

“—Or… are they still just cute to you?”

…Can I be honest? Yeah, they are cute.

After so many regressions, my own passion had slowly worn down. My perfect happy ending had become one where I simply didn’t have to restart anymore.

So of course these chirping kids seemed adorable compared to a Regressor whose loops had twisted him into something strange. There’s no contest.

Besides, I was supposedly the trainee that Team Leader Seo Dong-hoon had recruited after much persuasion. No need to drag in any negativity about being bullied at JM.

It’s only natural for existing trainees to feel wary of someone scouted from another big agency—a newcomer with a high chance of making the debut lineup.

The way Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun approached me so kindly from the start was the real anomaly. Unless their heads were full of flowers or they were the CEO’s nephews, which they definitely weren’t.

—Which meant, obviously, that our dear Regressor had pulled some serious strings. And apparently, I don’t like being given a free ride.

Ever since I heard “It’s all set once you arrive,” I’ve felt uneasy.

I guess I’d never experienced being carried like this before.

“…Sorry, I don’t get what you mean.”

I tilted my head with an awkward smile and stepped back a little, as if uneasy with how close the Regressor had come.

“I’m just…”

“……”

“I just thought it looked nice. Everyone seemed so close.”

I answered on purpose with a slightly trembling voice.

“It’s just… different from JM, where if you’re in a different practice group you barely talk beyond greetings.”

…Is JM really like that? How would I know. Honestly, I don’t even remember. After restarting so many times, how could I? And it’s not like this happened at END anyway.

But come on—after saying that much, any normal person isn’t going to ask, “Do you guys really act like that?”

At my words, Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun—who’d already heard that I left JM after being bullied—clapped their hands over their mouths. Even the backs of their hands.

What is this, a drama shoot? Sensitivity overload… oh, right, they’re still teenagers.

Even when we completely tanked the first and second singles, or when we soared with a half-million sales from the debut single, I don’t remember them being this soft.

The Regressor frowned like he was frustrated and started to step toward me, but just then the trainer, who’d left the room during break, opened the door.

“What’s this, why so quiet today? You all shy because there’s a newcomer?”

“Ha ha….”

“No one’s lying on the floor either… actually, I like it. Should we bring in a new trainee every day?”

When he said maybe they should always bring in newbies, the other trainees booed playfully with wide grins.

I gave an awkward laugh along with them and quietly shifted to stand behind the Regressor. That way, for the rest of practice I wouldn’t have to keep making deliberate mistakes, and to the other trainees it would just look like I didn’t want to draw attention.

The Regressor still half-glared at me, but didn’t bother to move behind me.

…Isn’t this day way too long?

---

After dance training came a so-called stretching session that was basically endurance training. Normally there would be vocal training next, but not today.

END’s top girl group, Blu_Daisy, was about to release their second full album. It was their first full album in four years, so the company was staking everything on it.

But if I remember right—the title track had a problem. It was exactly the same as a song by a famous Swedish national band. A double-license situation.

Technically, it was more of an issue with the composer’s professional ethics. The company thought it wouldn’t be a big deal since similar things had happened in Korea before. But that turned out to be a serious miscalculation.

The band that held the other license made a big public fuss, saying the song was deeply meaningful to them and that they’d written it themselves.

Sure, the double license was real—but truth isn’t always what matters to people.

Because of that mess, D.I.Y. ended up debuting a little earlier, so personally it wasn’t all bad.

And more importantly, right now it meant I could go home without dealing with the Regressor’s endless stare.

I gave a small nod to the hesitant Moon Taeyoung and Kim Dojun and escaped the building as soon as I changed clothes.

Then I headed home, seriously thinking about how I could stop whatever crazy thing the Regressor was planning.

“Son, good work. Wash your hands and let’s eat.”

The whole house was filled with the smell of seaweed soup, rich and warm.

The same soup I could never quite recreate after Mom passed away.

I ignored her words about washing up and ran straight to her, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“Oh, seaweed soup.”

“…Today I’m not letting you be picky. Just eat.”

“No, I like—mm. It’s fine.”

…Honestly, it’s not a dish I love. I can never get used to that fishy smell. But when you can never have it again, you start to miss it so badly it hurts. That faint, warm scent at the tip of my nose.

Like a playful kid, I covered Mom’s hand on the ladle and stirred the pot.

“Mom, how do you make this?”

“What’s this, my son suddenly interested in cooking? Did you get a girlfriend?”

“…Mom, did you forget? I’m an aspiring idol. That’d be a disaster.”

She let out a small laugh at my answer and continued.

“Pour in enough water to cover the mussels and bring it to a boil, then add the soaked seaweed.”

“You don’t stir-fry the seaweed first?”

“Since you’re boiling it with mussels, you don’t need to. But how do you even know about that?”

“…Saw it on TV.”

—To be exact, I’d already tried every recipe I could find online at least once. In the process my cooking skills had improved so much that I might actually be better than Mom now.

I swallowed the words I could never say out loud and shook her arm again. So? What do I do next?

“Add garlic, season with soy sauce and salt… maybe my son will cook it for me on my next birthday?”

“…Uh, that might be a little difficult.”

I stepped back with a reluctant answer, and Mom burst into laughter again. The sound was really nice to hear.

Maybe I inherited my voice from her.

With that pointless thought, I looked back at Mom and she smiled brightly, handing me something.

“Then at least take this.”

“…What is this—food waste?”

“No, regular trash. Mussel shells. They’ll smell if we keep them here. Throw them out.”

“…They weren’t dried mussels?”

Of course I’d checked recipes for seaweed soup with mussels. But most of them used dried mussels, and I’d never once eaten it with the shells still on.

…So that’s why the taste was different.

I stared blankly at the mussel shells, realizing the simple reason, and Mom firmly repeated her order to throw them away.

“Mom, did you clean all these yourself?”

“My son won’t even bother with chicken bones—always wants boneless pieces.”

“…No, I just like the taste of boneless.”

“Sure, that’s what you say. Now hurry up and take this out.”

I grumbled for no reason and pinched the edge of the plastic bag with my fingertips.

“…But is today really trash day?”

“Yes, it is, my dear son. So hurry and throw it away.”

“……”