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Chapter – 07
Because I burst into tears, the song ended without being properly finished.
Still, I showed them everything I needed to show, so it didn’t matter… like hell it didn’t.
Damn it, this is so embarrassing.
Why did I even cry?
I was so deeply immersed that I didn’t even know exactly what I was thinking. But one thing was for sure: my mind was stuck in the past. A past that was now slowly becoming the present.
“Uh, Seoha, are you okay?”
Lee Do-young looked a bit startled to see my tears and offered some words of comfort.
What a funny guy. He doesn’t even know why I cried.
“Whoa, damn. If I could sing as well as Cha Seoha, I’d probably look in the mirror and cry too.”
Heo Jun-sung nodded his head in agreement. It sounded like a backhanded compliment, but he probably meant it sincerely.
An even funnier guy.
“Do you cry often on stage too?”
Kim Ji-hoo asked with a worried expression, but his concern wasn’t for me—it was likely out of worry that doing it often would ruin a performance.
Not a funny guy at all.
Anyway, I needed to escape this situation quickly.
“I don’t cry. Never. A man only cries three times in his life, and today is the third time.”
“……Are you a bit of a psycho?”
“Drop it. How was the song?”
“I want to join the band. I want to layer my playing over your singing.”
Kim Ji-hoo looked me straight in the eye as he spoke. He didn’t hesitate for a single second.
As expected, it was just like Kim Ji-hoo to be relentlessly honest when he chose to be.
“Me too. I was thinking the exact same thing.”
“Uh, um, me too, slightly?”
Lee Do-young and Heo Jun-sung chimed in quickly, as if trying not to be outdone.
My mind finally at ease, a thought brushed past. Yeah, we really are destined to make music together.
Since that day, we stocked the school practice room with the instruments each of us needed and began practicing in earnest.
The very first order of business was to check out each other’s actual skills.
“Who goes first?”
“The youngest should start.”
“The youngest?”
“Ahem, Confucian values are strict and sacred. Shouldn’t the one who joined last be the youngest?”
At Heo Jun-sung’s remark, Kim Ji-hoo fiercely protested, arguing that we should determine the hierarchy based on mock exam scores.
For the record, I sided with Heo Jun-sung. If we went by mock exam scores, I would be the youngest.
Absurdly enough, Lee Do-young sided with Kim Ji-hoo. Damn it, it seems top students really do lack empathy. Couldn’t they show some empathy for my grades?
After a long argument, Heo Jun-sung decided to lead by example as the “senior” and picked up his guitar.
“Watch closely.”
He fixed his gaze squarely on me before dialing in his guitar tone.
Wait, this tone?
It was the guitar tone for . The exact song he had played for a demonstration back at ‘The Vibration of Strings’. Of course, many songs share similar guitar tones, but Heo Jun-sung’s expression made it clear that this was the track he was going for.
The familiar guitar riff that soon burst forth was, as expected, . I thought he would choose a more flashy and aggressive song, so this was a bit surprising.
This guy wasn’t trying to flaunt his current baseline skill; he was showing off his short-term growth rate. In other words, he was bragging about the sheer amount of effort he’d put in.
Only a few days had passed, but he was noticeably better than last time. His movements carried a sense of ease, and rather than playing purely from memorization, he was surrendering his whole body to the rhythm.
Yeah, this is what playing is all about.
Though I wanted to see a more technical performance, this wasn’t bad at all. Imagining how hard Heo Jun-sung must have gritted his teeth and practiced over the last few days made me feel strangely proud of him.
“Nice, better than before.”
“Is that it?”
“Then what? Should I pat you on the ass?”
“……Would you?”
“……Get lost.”
“It’s a joke, don’t look so serious.”
Heo Jun-sung definitely possessed great emotional expression. He had the vibe of an aggressive, combative protagonist straight out of a shonen manga. While a band relies heavily on teamwork, the guitar is an exception—it needs a bit of that flashy, standout flavor.
If I had to pick a flaw, it was that he gets excited too easily. I’ll have to correct that slowly. We have no intention of ending things as just a local neighborhood band.
Next, I shifted my gaze to Lee Do-young.
“Do-young, you should show us your playing too.”
“Yeah. But compared to you guys, I’m probably far behind.”
“Potential matters way more than your current skill. Look at Heo Jun-sung. He was a complete mess just a few days ago.”
“Hey, a mess? I wasn’t that bad.”
Heo Jun-sung protested, but Lee Do-young nodded, seeming to regain a bit of confidence.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
The song Lee Do-young chose was by Mice.
It wasn’t a surprising choice. Anyone who plays the bass has likely tried this track at least once.
The bass line in the intro of this song consists of 16th notes mixed with open strings, making it notoriously tricky to sync the timing of the left and right hands. Because of that, Lee Do-young had to push through the performance with sheer focus.
While he couldn’t match the speed of the original track, he paid meticulous attention to every single note, trying his best not to make a mistake. After continuing his precise playing for a bit, he wrapped up his short performance.
“Hmm, it’s a bit lacking, Do-young. You need to practice more.”
Heo Jun-sung’s verdict was “lacking.”
“No, it wasn’t lacking.”
On the other hand, Kim Ji-hoo seemed to quite like Lee Do-young’s playing.
So, what did I think?
“It was excellent.”
As expected of Lee Do-young.
“Really? The sense of speed was a bit disappointing, though.”
Heo Jun-sung’s opinion wasn’t wrong either. In a real band ensemble, you do need to keep up the tempo.
However, Lee Do-young is currently an unpolished member. A player who prioritizes the fundamentals is far more promising than one who sacrifices detail for the sake of speed. Once they cross a certain threshold, their growth skyrockets at a terrifying pace. Heo Jun-sung judged based on what he saw right now, whereas Kim Ji-hoo and I saw the potential.
“Playing delicately is much better in the long run. Heo Jun-sung, didn’t you practice like that when you were younger too?”
“Well, now that I think about it, I guess I did.”
“Anyway, great job, Do-young. I’m really looking forward to your future.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Lee Do-young scratched his head, seemingly agreeing that his performance left room for improvement, but that was only a reflection of his current state. He truly was an artist with an exciting future ahead.
Ah, but I couldn’t just end it with compliments.
“But Do-young, there’s a serious problem.”
“Huh? What is it?”
“How much do you weigh?”
“What?”
“Your height and weight.”
“I’m 174 cm and…… 69 kg.”
“To become perfect, you need to drop down to 64 kg. Your body fat percentage needs to be under 15%. Meaning, you need to cut down fat and build up muscle mass.”
“……Does that actually matter?”
“It’s incredibly important.”
“Why?”
“The very first gateway to becoming a legendary bassist is keeping your body fat percentage under 15%.”
“……?”
Kim Ji-hoo chimed in.
“Did you lose your sanity in exchange for your singing skills?”
“I will not respond to groundless, negative rumors.”
“……?”
“Alright, next. Kim Ji-hoo, it’s your turn.”
The eyes of the three of us locked onto Kim Ji-hoo.
“What do you want to see? Guitar? Keys?”
“Can you show us on the keys?”
Kim Ji-hoo would eventually become our band’s keyboardist, but his versatility with various instruments made him highly valuable. Since his main specialty was the keyboard, we needed to verify his skills on it right now.
Kim Ji-hoo stepped up to the synthesizer. He casually pressed a few keys while browsing through the sound patches, and once he found the right one, he stretched his fingers.
Soon, the music began. It was a piece whose identity wasn’t immediately clear.
Using the mysterious sounds of the synth, Kim Ji-hoo laid down a series of unclaimed chords. Then, he began to unravel those chord clusters into arpeggios. A flurry of diverse arpeggios and extensions instantly filled the practice room.
Before long, Kim Ji-hoo organized the progression and seamlessly transitioned it into a song we all knew very well—a track by Something Doomed.
.
It was a magnificent progression. Commonly referred to as the textbook of melodic speed metal, this wasn’t a song that could be played with average skills.
What followed was the absolute epitome of flashiness. He even managed to execute the upcoming blazing guitar solo part perfectly on the synthesizer.
“Wow, he’s so good…”
Lee Do-young was gaping, covering his mouth with both hands in sheer awe. On the other hand, Heo Jun-sung merely nodded, already well aware of Kim Ji-hoo’s capabilities.
He really is brilliant.
“Is this enough?”
“Yeah, saw it clearly. It was a remarkably precise performance.”
There was nothing to correct about Kim Ji-hoo’s actual playing. However, because he possessed a highly independent and cold disposition, I anticipated some friction when it came to matching our synergy. We’d have to figure that part out during actual ensemble practice.
With that, the distinct traits of all three members were clearly laid out.
The four of us gathered in a circle in the middle of the workspace.
“Alright, now that we know each other’s skills, there’s something we need to do.”
“What is it?”
“A performance.”
“Huh?”
“I’m the type of person who believes that practicing without a goal prevents you from giving your absolute all. Let’s do a performance exactly ten days from now, on Saturday.”
“Where?”
“Busk at Banwol Park.”
“What’s the goal?”
“The target?”
I smirked at Lee Do-young and Kim Ji-hoo’s quick questions. While these smart guys might lack empathy, their drive to achieve a goal was definitely solid.
“Social media.”
“Huh? You want us to film a video and post it on SNS?”
“No. The goal is to make someone else watch our performance and talk about us on their social media.”
“Uh…….”
“It sounds cool, but isn’t the difficulty bar a bit too high?”
It was bound to be a challenging goal. Seeing people busking on the street is a common occurrence. However, performing well enough to leave a lasting impression that drives a random bystander to post about you on their personal SNS is entirely another story.
“What do you think?”
“I like it.”
“Sounds fun.”
“I think we can pull it off.”
Satisfied with their confident responses, I opened my mouth to conclude.
“Let’s each bring two or three songs we want to play. Now that we’ve seen everyone’s skills, you have a grasp of what kind of variations we can do, right?”
Everyone nodded in unison.
by Mandela Effect.
by SUN.
by Mice.
There were a few other tracks on the table, but these were the final three songs we selected.
was Heo Jun-sung’s choice, was Lee Do-young’s, and belonged to Kim Ji-hoo.
To be perfectly honest, it was a daunting challenge for a band that had just formed. An ensemble isn’t just about everyone following a sheet music sheet cleanly. That is merely the absolute baseline—an act called ‘playing instruments’, not an ensemble.
An ensemble is the act of creating a brand-new world.
If you give a cliché phrase like ‘warm melody’ to 100 different musicians, you will get 100 different interpretations. Someone might define warmth as a burning sensation that heats up the body, while another might interpret it as a lukewarm feeling in the midst of a bitter chill.
Bridging the gap between those interpretations and perceptions to build one giant house together—that is what an ensemble is.
The sound generated by vibrations. The rhythm implemented by stacking moments of time. And finally, the space completed by adding empty margins. It is a sacred act of creating a single universe through music born from the convergence of these elements.
That was a true ensemble.
In that regard, this song selection had a rather interesting dynamic. First of all, the songs each person brought perfectly reflected their individual tastes. However, they contained elements that would be quite tricky for the other members to digest.
was well within Heo Jun-sung’s technical capability, but it was a very awkward song for him to express. Heo Jun-sung, a corny and hot-blooded guy, had a strong tendency to go completely wild when he played. This song, however, required him to completely strip away that habit to express it properly.
Lee Do-young was a bassist who thoroughly pursued a supporting role, but required every single instrument to take on an aggressively bold stance.
Up to this point, it was fine. They could push through if they just grit their teeth and practiced.
The real problem was .
“Can we actually pull this off?”
“I think it’ll be fun, but maybe it’s too difficult.”
It was a track that only truly shined when executed with absolute perfection. It was a song choice that screamed Kim Ji-hoo.
As an amateur band, we were bound to make mistakes. When Kim Ji-hoo witnesses Heo Jun-sung and Lee Do-young making errors, will he shout out ‘wrong answer’ and just race ahead on his own? Or will he adapt and create an imperfect, yet unified change alongside them?
I wasn’t sure yet. It was something to watch out for.
A mix of anticipation and worry left me feeling thoroughly amused.
Anyway, it was for these reasons that we locked in the members’ choices, but something still felt a bit strange.
“Why are you guys listening to me so submissively?”
“What do you mean?”
“No, I mean, you guys are just following whatever I decide without grumbling.”
“So what? I wanted to play that song anyway.”
Ignoring Heo Jun-sung’s typical grumbling response, I turned to look at Lee Do-young, but unexpectedly, the answer came from Kim Ji-hoo.
