RHCB ~ 02

Chapter – 02

In the original timeline, I wasn’t supposed to join the band until a year later, in 2018.

I was actually the last member to hop on board. After an injury forced me to retire from Taekwondo, I was wandering aimlessly through life when Lee Do-young, on a whim, dragged me into the mix.

Looking back, I still have no clue what Do-young saw in me to make that offer. At the time, even I didn’t know I possessed any musical talent.

But what puzzled me even more was how the rest of the guys had gathered in the first place.

I knew the rough outline:

• Lee Do-young & Heo Jun-sung went to the same school and started the band.

• Kim Ji-hoo joined next; I recalled he had learned his instrument at the same applied music academy as Jun-sung.

• Kang Min was… well, honestly, I didn’t know how they reeled him in.

• And finally, me—joining as the vocalist.

But that was just the final outcome. I had absolutely no idea about the actual process—how they became friends, and how they decided to stick together.

Besides, they were all high schoolers right now. Excluding me, since I was in the sports department, normal students were under the crushing pressure of the impending College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT). Forging them into a unified team wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

What should I do?

During this specific era of my past life, I knew nothing but Taekwondo. I didn’t have any ties to the others, save for Jun-sung. If I had to stretch it, Do-young and I were in the same homeroom class, but I couldn’t even remember if we had ever exchanged casual greetings.

Overwhelmed by the sheer uncertainty, I decided to just throw a wild pitch and see what happened. I slid open the classroom door.

“Hey, Heo Jun-sung.”

Stepping in front of Jun-sung with an intense aura, I called out his name without a second thought.

Jun-sung, who was slouched in his seat listening to music, pulled out an earbud and looked up. With his sharp, slightly delinquent-like features, his resting face looked incredibly intimidating. Of course, I knew that beneath the rough exterior, he was actually a total sweetheart.

“What?”

“Join a band with me.”

I fully expected to be shot down. I hadn’t shown him a single shred of musical talent—all he knew me for was Taekwondo. My game plan was simple: listen to his rejection, analyze it, and figure out a better angle of approach.

Still, Jun-sung and I shared a decent amount of common ground. We were desk partners, and since he was naturally outgoing and easily bored, he’d strike up a conversation whenever he had the chance.

Jun-sung stared at me blankly for a moment before speaking.

“Have you just been trapped in a dream since yesterday, or what?”

“Didn’t you know? This is a dream.”

“Huh?”

“You play guitar, right?”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I saw you playing.”

“What? When?”

“On the street?”

“Ah, busking… I’ve only done it a few times. That’s wild that you saw me.”

It was a total shot in the dark, but it hit the bullseye. Then again, is there any decent guitarist alive who hasn’t busked at least once?

“Okay, so what?”

“Let’s do it. A band.”

“What about Taekwondo?”

“Quit.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I desperately want to do music.”

“For real?”

“I’m telling you, yes.”

Jun-sung blinked, studying my face. I couldn’t tell what was flipping through his mind, but this is exactly why I loved high schoolers. In the adult world, a desperate dream isn’t a valid reason for anything, but right now? It was more than enough.

“So, I’m the guitarist?”

“Did you think I brought you in to play the recorder?”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“That’s it? You’re in?”

“Why, you gonna give me a down payment or something?”

“No.”

I bumped my fist against the one Jun-sung extended, a thought crossing my mind. Was it really this easy? Did everyone assemble this effortlessly in the past?

“By the way, what’s your position? Ah, hold on. Let me guess… Bass?”

“Wrong.”

I arched an eyebrow, challenging him to keep guessing. It was quite amusing to watch him genuinely ponder over it.

“Then drums? Like, using the rhythmic sense you used to chop up your Taekwondo kicks?”

What the hell does ‘chopping up kick rhythms’ even mean?

“I’m going to be the vocalist.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Jun-sung’s face twisted into a massive frown.

“What? That doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Why not?”

Do you have any idea how many years of experience I have as a lead vocalist?

“I mean, your voice is good, but… how do I put it? Your face has zero expression. You always look completely deadpan.”

Jun-sung suddenly crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, knitted his brows tightly, and clamped his lips shut. He then swept his eyes coldly across the room with a completely detached, indifferent expression.

Is that really what I look like?

I had been an idol and an actor; I took pride in my facial expressions.

“Spot on, right?”

“Not even close.”

I completely ignored the guy, who was trying to act cute in a way that absolutely did not match his rough face.

“Hmm, want to hit a karaoke room after school? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Next time.”

“Why?”

“Once we gather the rest of the members, I’ll blow you all away at once. Surprising you guys one by one gets boring.”

“Wow. Where is this confidence coming from?”

It was half-truth, half-excuse. My current vocal cords weren’t in top shape. To an average person, I’d sound great, but I hadn’t trained this physical body enough to match the vocal control of my past life yet. Vocal cords need tuning, after all.

Thankfully, since I already possessed the know-how, it would only take about a month to get them into decent shape. Give it about a year, and I’d be right back at my peak.

“But besides me, do you have any other members in mind?”

“Are you close with Lee Do-young?”

“Lee Do-young? The class president?”

Jun-sung pondered for a moment before his eyes widened, giving me a look that asked if I was out of my mind.

Do-young was definitely playing bass around this time. Because he and Jun-sung had started the band together in my past life, I assumed they were already close, but it seemed they weren’t on those terms just yet.

“Lee Do-young plays bass.”

In my past life, our band’s lineup was structured like this:

• Vocal: Me (Cha Seo-ha)

• Guitar: Heo Jun-sung

• Bass: Lee Do-young

• Keyboard: Kim Ji-hoo

• Drums: Kang Min

“I can’t picture the class president in a band…” Jun-sung muttered.

I understood where he was coming from. When Do-young first proposed starting a band in the previous timeline, I also thought a band didn’t suit him at all.

The Lee Do-young in my memory was quiet, diligent, and hated standing out—the textbook definition of a model student. When a guy like that suggested a band, my first thought was: Is he going through a late-blooming rebellious phase?

Sometimes, the quietest kids harbor a hidden streak of rebellion, and I figured Do-young was one of them.

But Do-young was more passionate about music than anyone else I knew. Even after I left and the band fell apart, he never gave up on his dream, teaching kids at applied music academies and working as a session musician. When hit with the harsh wall of reality, most people compromise, but he never stopped striving. Right up until the moment he died.

His choice of the bass was a testament to his pure devotion to music. The bass, anchoring the core of the band, perfectly matched Do-young, who always sought the very foundation of music.

There was simply no one who suited the bass better than him.

Plus, if he took off his glasses, his visuals were actually quite sharp. What was it that some girl had said? Even if you looked at him while doing a handstand, he has the face of a perfect second-male-lead.

It was such a bizarre comment that it stuck in my memory, though I still didn’t really get what it meant. Is there a specific face for a main lead versus a second lead? If you’re handsome, you’re handsome, right?

Though, he’d definitely need to lose a little bit of baby fat compared to how he looked right now.

“Do-young will do great. Anyway, are you close with him?”

“Just casual greetings when we pass by?”

I shrugged at Jun-sung’s answer.

“Then you’re closer to him than I am.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t just say so. Go over there and reel him in. Tell him to join the band.”

“How?”

“You’re good at that stuff—talking to strangers. I’m an ‘I’ (Introvert).”

“An eye? Like… a child…?”

Come to think of it, the MBTI craze hadn’t hit yet in 2017.

“Hey, what kind of crazy person is just going to blurt out ‘okay’ to joining a band out of nowhere?”

When I just stared at him in silence, Jun-sung let out a hollow laugh.

“Ah. I was that crazy person.”

“Glad you realized. Now get over there.”

“Uh, well… actually, I think he’s already listening to us.”

At that exact moment, Lee Do-young, sitting at his desk, was spiraling into utter panic.

His workbook was open, but not a single word registered. The moment he heard his name muttered from behind before morning roll call, his internal radar had locked on, and he was currently on high alert.

Just as he was about to plug in his earphones and play some music, the conversation between Cha Seo-ha and Heo Jun-sung had violently snatched his attention.

Are they talking about me right now? And how on earth do they know I play the bass?

Cha Seo-ha was a man of few words, possessed a cold impression, and only hung out with the other athletes on the Taekwondo team.

Heo Jun-sung, despite looking like a total delinquent, was highly sociable and had an excellent reputation, capable of striking up a warm conversation with literally anyone in class. But he also hung around the so-called ‘iljin’ (school bullies), which made him a bit terrifying.

Both of them were strikingly handsome, but because of their unapproachable aura, Do-young had always found them intimidating.

Yet, eavesdropping on their banter made them sound like regular teenagers, making them feel a fraction more approachable than before.

Except, the tail end of their conversation was getting a bit ominous.

“Uh, well… actually, I think he’s already listening to us.”

Suddenly, a long shadow stretched across Do-young’s desk.

Lifting his gaze, he was met with the awkward smiles of Cha Seo-ha and Heo Jun-sung.

“Hey.”

Jun-sung tried to flash an amicable, friendly grin, but the awkwardness of it somehow made his rough features look even more menacing.

Terrifying.

Seeing this, Seo-ha could be seen biting back a laugh from behind Jun-sung’s shoulder.

When Do-young froze like a deer in headlights, just staring up at them, Jun-sung sheepishly scratched the back of his head and broke the ice.

“Class Prez, got a second to talk?”

Definitely terrifying!

Maybe it was because of their athletic builds, but the physical presence they exuded was no joke. With the two of them flanking his desk, his otherwise spacious seating area instantly felt suffocatingly cramped.

“Uh… yeah?”

“We have something to ask you.”

Are they really going to ask me to join a band? They’re trying to persuade me, right? They’re not trying to extort me, right?

Right on cue, the words tumbled out of Jun-sung’s mouth, matching Do-young’s prediction.

“Do you want to join a band with us? We want you on bass.”

Cha Seo-ha, Heo Jun-sung, and a band.

In that split second, a million thoughts raced through Do-young’s mind. It actually sounded like a fascinating combination.

But his reflexes kicked in first, and a rejection slipped past his lips.

“Sorry, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

He felt a wave of internal panic because he didn’t even know why he had refused so quickly; it was just an instant, crushing wave of self-doubt telling him ‘there’s no way someone like you can pull that off.’

After dropping his answer, Do-young buried his face toward the floor, sensing the heavy, burning gazes fixed on the top of his head.

They must be pissed. A couple of popular guys went out of their way to offer a guy like me a spot, and I blew them off. Too terrified to face the music, he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

Then, a perfectly calm voice drifted down from above.

“Well, it was never going to be that easy, right?”

“…What?”

Caught completely off guard by the reaction, Do-young reflexively snapped his head back up.

He expected them to be annoyed, but Cha Seo-ha actually looked amused. A faint glimmer of genuine intrigue danced across a face that usually remained utterly deadpan. Seeing that stoic face break into a subtle smirk was undeniably striking, but Do-young instinctively felt a strange sense of cognitive dissonance from it.

He had never encountered anyone like Cha Seo-ha in his entire life. Who smiles like they’re having fun after getting rejected?

Before the atmosphere could get any weirder, Seo-ha’s expression instantly snapped back to its usual blank slate, and he clapped a hand onto Jun-sung’s shoulder.

“See? I told you it’s because you look terrifying.”

“Look who’s talking!” Jun-sung shot back, glaring at him in sheer disbelief.

The two boys, who previously didn’t seem close at all outside of being desk partners, bickered with an easy, seasoned chemistry that made them look like lifelong friends.

Just then, the morning bell rang, signaling the start of roll call.

Still wearing that unreadable, mysterious smirk, Seo-ha turned around and lazily strolled back to the back row with Jun-sung in tow.

Class began shortly after, but weirdly enough, not a single word from the teacher made it into Do-young’s brain.

I’m the one who rejected the band offer… so why does it feel like I’m the one who just got dumped?