Little Pink Starfish

The moment the demon of the intersection appeared, a searing pain started to burn through my head.

The pain began in my eyes and spread to every organ in my body. I felt like I might burst from the pressure.

It was because I had witnessed something far beyond human perception—something vast.

This wasn’t the first time it had happened.

During the first and second encounters, the demon appeared before me by its own will.

So, it showed me consideration.

It kept its presence suppressed so I wouldn’t go insane. It deliberately avoided breaching my cognitive limits.

Because otherwise, I might’ve died.

But the third encounter—and now the fourth—were different.

The demon of the intersection, who appears as a trigger when I attempt to end my life, doesn’t show such kindness.

Not because it can’t, but because it won’t—because it disapproves of my actions.

In any case, there’s no escaping the blinding pain in my head.

But more than the pain—fury surged through me.

The demon’s words tore through my thoughts.

You were disappointed, but you didn’t give up?

You were in despair, but you didn’t collapse?

Don’t be ridiculous. I did collapse. I did give up.

No one knows how many singers I’ve met and observed over the years.

Choi Jaesung will not return to the way he was.

I’ve never seen a singer recover fully from vocal nodules, and Jaesung’s injury is even worse.

Sure, like the doctor said, with proper treatment, he could live a normal life and even sing again.

But he won’t be able to replicate the performance level he showed before.

Even if his physical condition returns to normal, psychological trauma is almost inevitable.

I’ve had vocal nodules myself.

And even as a regressor, I struggled to overcome them.

Still, I can wait. A year, maybe more.

While Jaesung receives treatment, I could keep performing with the rest of Sedalbaekil.

But is that really the right thing?

Can the members truly show their best motivation?

Jaesung would envy them. The members would miss him.

That longing would eventually turn into guilt. And success wouldn’t taste so sweet.

Then I’d lose my reason to live. I’d be tormented by Sedalbaekil.

Emotionally, I might understand their choices—but my circumstances as a regressor don’t fit those emotions.

It’s a contradiction.

I was healed by my friends’ kindness—but that very kindness is what will stop me from achieving my goal.

The end would be disastrous.

Some people might say I’m just being paranoid—that this is a logical fallacy born from my obsession with perfection.

Maybe they’re right.

But that’s exactly why I have to regress now.

If I keep going and then regress at the end of the line, I’ll no longer be able to form a new Sedalbaekil.

I like them.

I want everyone to be happy at the end of my success.

I don’t want a version of success where only Jaesung ends up unhappy and left behind.

So my regression is justified.

The demon may be the one to trigger my regression—but it shouldn’t get to limit my choices.

“——!”

“—–!”

I don’t even know what I shouted.

My tongue didn’t seem to move properly, and the pain in my head made it impossible to form words right.

But I shouted anyway.

I shouted what I felt.

And it seemed the demon heard me.

After all, it’s not a being that needs language to understand.

At that moment, the overwhelming vastness that covered the world began to recede.

And then—I witnessed something I had never seen before.

“Your tantrum is excessive.”

The demon appeared in human form.

It was a face I had never seen before—and yet it felt strangely familiar.

Looking closer, I saw traces of every Sedalbaekil member in its features.

Lee Ieon, Goo Taehwan, On Saemiro, Choi Jaesung.

Even myself.

Sensing that I was staring, the demon spoke.

“You’ve finally calmed down enough for a conversation?”

Humans are truly simple creatures.

Even though I still recognized it as a demon, just seeing it in human form brought me some peace.

“Why do you look like that…?”

“It’s not my choice. You summoned me at this intersection, so I manifested in the strongest bundle of thoughts tied to this place.”

Now that my mind was clearing, I had something I needed to confirm.

I had decided to regress, but—if by any chance, there was still a 100% chance that Choi Jaesung could recover, then regression might not be necessary.

I’m confident in my prediction—but what if I’m wrong?

“What will happen to Choi Jaesung?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“Whatever happens to him, the path you must walk won’t change.”

“So you’re saying… there’s no chance he’ll return to how he was?”

“The concept of ‘original state’ doesn’t suit an intersection. But if you mean ‘original’ by your standards, then—no, there is no chance.”

My strength left me.

I had expected the demon’s appearance. I’d hoped it might tell me something about the future.

And it did—proving my instincts were right.

A definitive verdict.

“Then I’ll regress.”

“Denied.”

“What?! Why?!”

The demon was silent.

Its silence was not like human silence.

In this intersection, where time and space had collapsed, the demon’s silence blanketed the world in cold.

As if to say no living thing should exist here, the world rejected me.

And I remembered once again—

I only existed here because I had a contract with the demon.

Then the demon finally spoke.

“Ordinarily, this would be against the rules… but you’ve accumulated enough probability to warrant it.”

“Probability?”

“Do you remember the conversation we had during our last meeting?”

Of course I did.

I had asked the demon what my success rate was.

The demon’s answer had surprised me.

“100%.”

If I could endure the trials of time, it would be guaranteed.

Of course, enduring time’s trials wasn’t easy. But that answer gave me hope.

“But the ‘time’ I referred to didn’t mean across all regression rounds.”

“What?”

What the hell does that mean?

So the time the demon spoke of wasn’t cumulative across all regressions?

It didn’t mean I had to keep enduring through round after round?

Then what did it mean?

“That question can only be answered in another way.”

“You’re too entangled in the rules of regression. Have you ever tried to indulge in the rules of success?”

The rules of success?

Aren’t the rules simple?

Sell 200 million albums.

Damn it—all in physical album sales.

But at that moment, I felt something click.

What was it?

If I thought just a little deeper, I felt like I might discover something.

But then the demon’s next words shook me.

“If you wish, I can return you to the time before your friend’s accident.”

“What?”

“But if I do, his time will become bound to yours.”

The demon’s explanation was simple.

Choi Jaesung would regress along with me.

But the control would lie entirely with me.

In other words, if I chose to regress, Jaesung would continue regressing—no matter what his life turned out to be.

That’s absurd.

Even regressions that I chose are excruciating—how could someone be forced into that by another’s will?

That must never happen.

“What if I raise the target to 300 million albums in exchange for healing Jaesung…?”

“Impossible. The goal is not a fixed quantity. It is a concept.”

I felt like the demon was giving me a hint.

Not a fixed number… a concept.

The rules of success—more important than the rules of regression…

“I’ve told you too much.”

“Wait, I still—”

“I am not a being that mocks you, nor one that tests you.”

Humans don’t focus on a single ant and burn with hatred or rage.

It’s simply a difference in scale.

Perhaps the demon is the same.

I’ve thought this way for a long time. It’s a kind of psychological defense.

To stop myself from believing the demon was tormenting me.

But maybe, just maybe, it was giving me an answer now.

“Return.”

“Return.”

“Return.”

“You did not give up.”

“You did not give up.”

“You did not give up.”

In that moment, the space of the intersection began to flicker.

The pulsating waves of color ceased, and sound disappeared.

In that void, only the demon’s final thought echoed.

And I was ejected from the crossroads.

---

It feels like a dream.

Because this was the set of Coming Up Next, which ended a long time ago.

More precisely, it was the first round of the B team selection match.

I had changed Way From Flower’s debut song to <Falling Blossoms>, and Goo Taehwan had performed Lazy boy’s <Slow Down> with my help.

On Saemiro, watching me, had gotten shocked by my “Under the Streetlight” performance and ended up singing “Toothbrush.”

But that recognition lasted only a moment.

I became that version of me again.

Forgot it was a dream entirely.

After my stage, a rapper named Park Sungjoo performed next and bombed.

‘He’s out.’

Next came a vocalist named Choi Jaesung.

His singing wasn’t bad.

He had that all-around “hexagon” voice—no glaring weaknesses, but no standout strengths either.

A bit lacking now, but he’d probably improve with training.

But… watching him, I got a strange feeling of déjà vu.

I definitely knew him from somewhere. But I couldn’t place it.

I thought seeing his stage might jog my memory.

Even if I forget names and faces, I always remember voices.

But still, nothing.

I was sure I wasn’t imagining it.

I had a vague memory of seeing a truly astonishing performance with that voice.

‘Hmph. Doesn’t seem like he has that kind of potential, though.’

Maybe he was a musical theater actor or something? Maybe that’s why I couldn’t place it.

Frustrated, I stared at him intensely—then he glanced at me and suddenly made a mistake.

“……”

Why is he looking at me instead of the judges?

I felt a little guilty and looked away. His expression relaxed, and he resumed singing.

Seems like a timid kid.

Timidness is hard to fix—hopefully he gets eliminated so we’re not on the same team.

---

Lee Ieon, exhausted from cleaning, had fallen asleep. On Saemiro, cried out, also fell asleep.

Between them, Goo Taehwan—the one whose drinking habit was people-watching—was staring straight at me.

“……”

“Where are you going?”

I had definitely experienced this moment before.

Right before I chose regression and went to the intersection.

Back at the dorm, just minutes earlier.

The demon had sent me a few minutes back in time.

“Just going to the convenience store.”

“Should I come with?”

“No, I’ll just get some air. Want anything?”

“Ice cream.”

“What kind?”

“Bibibig. And wear a cap.”

“Got it.”

I went to the room, grabbed a hat, and came back to find Goo Taehwan had already dozed off.

Outside, a cool breeze blew.

As I pulled down my cap and walked toward the store, I thought—

I remembered where I’d seen Choi Jaesung.

The Grammys…

No. Not the Grammys.

It was the AMAs.

The American Music Awards.

Back in the early days of my regressions—when I was still crawling my way through the U.S. scene.

Round 12? Round 13?

Somewhere around there.

When I had just broken into the mainstream and attended my first award show—I saw Jaesung perform.

At first, I thought he was Japanese—not Korean.

He was way more famous than I was at the time.

But Choi Jaesung hadn’t sung.

I don’t know if the demon revealed this to me, or if I remembered it myself.

But one thing was certain…

In this life, it feels like maybe I can walk just a little bit farther.