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Chapter 4
As I walked through the L.PA Bar, packed with new students, snatches of conversation drifted in from all around. Perhaps because it was a place where everyone was meeting for the first time, the topics were mostly predetermined. Home country, department, main instrument, the careers they had built so far. Questions that let you check a person’s basic profile.
I’ve had these conversations so many times I practically have them memorized.
As I scanned the bar for people who might suit my crew…
“This school bar is so good!”
“Right? And I think the drinks are the cheapest in Liverpool. The bartenders are the nicest I’ve met so far, too.”
“Yeah. I just went to order an apple cider, and they treated me like a friend.”
I raised my eyebrows at the voices of the girls passing by. That was certainly one of the reasons students loved the L.PA Bar.
“And the vibe here is nice, don’t you think? Comfortable, but stylish.”
“Totally. It’s easy to mingle naturally with other students like this. And to become friends with someone fun like you.”
“What are you talking about? Hehe.”
This time I nodded. It really was a good place to build new friendships.
Even with students from other departments, or with professors.
Students shared a relaxed beer here and picked up advice and tips from different fields. If they needed help with something, they would meet students from other departments and propose collaborations. But more than any of the reasons the girls had given, there was another, more important reason the L.PA Bar was so loved.
It’s because of what lies beyond that second door.
The canteen, connected to the L.PA Bar by a single door, had a professional live stage capable of hosting a full-band performance, along with all the necessary equipment. In short, by day it was the school cafeteria, and by evening it turned into a venue run with student participation. It gave music students a stage to build performance experience, gave sound engineering students the chance to handle live sound, and gave the students in the audience inspiration from other performers.
So whenever there was a show, everyone ordered cheap drinks at the L.PA Bar, then went into the canteen next door. And they watched high-quality live performances inside for free.
No wonder the L.PA Bar was always crowded. Some of my classmates used to say that the bar was actually created because the school couldn’t predict what trouble arts students with their unusual way of thinking might cause drinking outside. So it was a place that carried the school’s intention: drink in moderation, on campus, at least.
Of course, they were joking.
When I turned my head to the side, two dance majors were holding a dance battle to see who was better.
Watching them, I suppose it really is safer for them to do that on campus than outside.
It was a moment when I wondered whether my classmates’ words back then might not have been entirely a joke. Feeling the astonishing atmosphere of LSPA all over again, I shook my head lightly.
First, find someone worth bringing into my crew. That’s what matters right now.
Caught up in nostalgia at being back in the L.PA Bar after so long, I had almost forgotten why I came. Especially since the crew members formed here today would greatly influence my school life for at least a term. Crew members did a lot of private activities and projects together.
That’s why they’re far more important than other connections. Building good relationships with talented people is fundamentally very important at LSPA anyway.
LSPA was, in a sense, a small entertainment industry site that people would later want to belong to. It was like a treasure trove where famous companies kept an eye out for shining raw gems. On top of that, the school was in Liverpool, England. The hometown of the Beetles, a city of music where live performances never stopped in the pubs along the streets.
It’s a perfect environment to test what the school has prepared you for in the field.
That’s why students who had completed all their preparation to jump into the field would perform at local pubs and seize various opportunities. Some were connected to the music industries of Europe and America and became world-famous artists or producers. So those who made good use of life at LSPA took an active part in social activities like this, using them as stepping stones to success. Making connections out of the talented people they met here.
But I can’t take someone into my crew just because they’re skilled.
If I got entangled with someone who later fell into ruin because of their character, my crew members and I could be dragged down with them.
So I need people who lack nothing in skill or character…
I looked around again. But somehow everyone had figured it out already: the talented, easygoing ones had each claimed a table and were mingling in groups.
Haa. This is awkward. Should I just join a crew that has decent people?
Right. When I thought about it, I didn’t need to go to the trouble of gathering talent myself. Wouldn’t that make everything simpler? I scanned the groups sitting at the tables in the crowded bar, one by one. But…
Ah… this is ambiguous, too…
Of course. Perhaps because it was the very beginning of school life, when no one had any information about anyone else, every group had a few bombs mixed in. Risk factors who would later cause trouble through big and small words and actions, ending not only their own careers at school but also those of the people around them.
If I get involved now, it’ll be exhausting to cut them off later…
But with all the decent ones already in their own crews, I had no other options. Was the only way to join a crew with many decent talents and slowly sever my ties with the bombs? As I tapped my fingers against my folded arms, lost in thought, a woman’s voice came from the L.PA Bar’s speakers.
“Welcome, new students. LSPA’s open mic will begin shortly. Students who are interested, please sign up on the list in the canteen now.”
Open mic?
At that moment, my eyes flashed.
The wide canteen, which looked like a well-equipped standing venue. At one side, in front of the sound console (a control device that operates the stage audio equipment), stood three students who appeared to be sound engineering majors.
“I wonder if new students will actually sign up for the open mic on the very first day.”
“Who knows? Everyone’s busy making friends, and a lot of them have no stage experience, so they probably won’t step up at first.”
“Right. Unless they’re truly skilled, most people just want to see how good everyone else is.”
Without a word, I walked up beside them and wrote my name on the open mic sign-up list on the table next to the console. The chatting students noticed me and jolted in surprise.
“Whoa, you scared me. When did you get here? I didn’t even notice.”
One of them looked at the sign-up form and asked.
“Seo… Sinu?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Okay. We’ll start soon, once the rest of the setup is done, so get ready. Oh, will you be using guitar or piano?”
“Guitar, please.”
I answered with an easy smile. Right. Even if all the decent ones had joined crews already, nothing was fully set in stone yet. I just had to make them want to move to my crew. With my skills.
“Sinu, right? You can use the guitar on stage. We need to do a sound check first, so could you play something?”
At the sound engineering student’s words, I nodded and stepped onto the stage, where bright stage lights shone on the instruments.
“Haa.”
The stage was built just one step above the floor. With so little distance from the audience, a performer might feel at ease. But the thought of singing in front of people for the first time in so long made my breath tremble.
It’s been six years. Since I last stood on a stage.
My first stage since losing my face and voice in the fire. Of course, in this time I had returned to, my body had no such gap. But my soul had lived through all six years, so it was only natural that my heart trembled like this.
I hope the feel of playing is still in my memory.
I slung the acoustic guitar standing beside the microphone over my shoulder. Then I formed a chord and began strumming.
1-5-6-4
The famous, familiar money chords used in countless hit songs, played simply. It was only a sound check, after all. The sound engineering students at the console glanced my way.
“Hold on. We’ll bring the guitar up.”
When they touched something on the console, a plain chord progression thrummed through the performance speakers and spread across the canteen. And at that moment, the students at the console fixed their eyes on me.
Why are they doing that?
For a mere sound check, none of them showed any interest in the console. They just stared at me with startled faces. When I met the eyes of one of them, puzzled, he snapped back to his senses and brought his mouth to the console mic.
“Oh, are you here for guitar?”
No. I answered into the stage mic, but the volume hadn’t been raised yet, and my voice was drowned out by the guitar with no sound coming through. While continuing to play, I shook my head from side to side, and he asked again.
“Then, vocals?”
I nodded.
“Oh…”
He said something to his colleagues and kept glancing at me. Then he brought his mouth to the console mic again.
“We’ll do a mic check now. Could you sing anything?”
I fell into thought for a moment, and a single song surfaced in my mind. It was the only one I could think of. Because the lyrics that had faded from my ears in my last moment of my previous life still lingered in my mind. I stopped the aimless guitar playing and stepped forward under the lights pouring down at the front of the stage. Then I approached the standing mic, and the moment I opened my mouth…
“…!”
“…!”
“…!”
The eyes of the sound engineering students, who had been fussing with the console, flew wide, and all of them lifted their heads and stared at me blankly. And beside them…
Huh?
In the empty audience area, a man had suddenly appeared, though I hadn’t noticed when he came in. A blond white man who looked at least 190 cm tall was gazing up at me with the same dazed expression as they had.
