“Uh…”
“So, do you want to do it or not?”
Jung Hyunah hesitated for a long time, prompting Lee Seo to snap at her. Seo Ha, with a sullen expression, stared at Jung Hyunah. What could her opinion be?
“Well, it’s just, um… I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m kind of against it.”
“And?”
“But, if everyone else says we’re doing it, then…”
“Then what?”
“Then I could do it.”
Seo Ha’s expression was one of utter confusion, and Lee Seo wasn’t any better.
“You don’t want to do it, but if we say we’re doing it, then you could? What does that even mean?”
“Well… I guess it’s something like that. I don’t really want to, but if you all say we should…”
“So, basically, you don’t want to do it, but if others insist, you’ll go along with it. Is that it?”
At Lee Seo’s words, Jung Hyunah nodded. Lee Seo looked at her with a subtle expression.
“What are we supposed to do with that? Are you saying we should do it or not? So, if we decide not to, it’s off, and if we decide to go for it, then it’s on?”
Jung Hyunah nodded again at those words.
“If that’s the case, isn’t that just having no opinion at all?”
“No, that’s not it. It’s more like… weak opposition.”
Seo Ha muttered absentmindedly, and Jung Hyunah
opened her mouth to respond. Weak opposition, she called it. Myeong-jeon folded his arms and looked at Jung Hyunah
.
“Then what about the song?”
“The song?”
“That otaku-ish song or whatever we’re practicing. If we decide not to perform it, are you against the performance entirely?”
“Uh…”
hesitated again at Myeong-jeon’s words.
“No, since we’ve practiced it, we should do it~! Honestly, I started this band because I wanted to perform that song at least once.”
“What?”
Lee Seo’s reaction was instant, and Seo Ha, unable to believe her ears, reflexively questioned it.
“Oh, didn’t I mention that before?”
“Not at all…”
The conversation continued in that vein.
“But don’t you think we should perform the song we’ve practiced?”
“Didn’t you say the otaku song was embarrassing?”
“Well, it’s still something we worked on, and it’s only embarrassing at our school. Or something like that…”
At that, Myeong-jeon felt he understood the state Jung Hyunah was in. It wasn’t common, but occasionally, he came across students like her—those who were oddly ashamed of their hobbies.
One example that stood out was a student he had taught about fifteen years ago. He was a somewhat stout young man who initially came to learn singing. When asked what song he wanted to try, he hesitated for a long time before finally revealing it.
“Uh, would this kind of song be okay…?”
When Myeong-jeon responded, “What wouldn’t be okay?” he’d taught him nonetheless. He remembered talking about something or other back then, though the details were vague now. In any case, the situation reminded him of that student.
“So…”
As he spoke, the three others turned to look at him.
“In the end, you want to perform but feel embarrassed by that song. Isn’t that it?”
“…Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Jung Hyunah’s gaze wandered nervously at Myeong-jeon’s words. Eventually, her eyes dropped, her expression sinking. For some reason, the weight of her words felt heavy.
Silence followed.
Myeong-jeon took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat, drawing their attention.
“Talking back and forth like this isn’t going to get us anywhere. What really matters is… So, you’re saying that if we decide to perform, you’ll go along with it. Is that right?”
“Then let’s do it. We’ll go ahead with it…”
“Are you sure about this?”
At Myeong-jeon’s words, Lee Seo abruptly spoke up.
“About what?”
“Uh, I mean Jung Hyunah.”
“She said she’s fine. If she said she’s okay, then we’re doing it. Are you not okay? If you’re not, speak up.”
“No, um, I’m okay.”
Under Myeong-jeon’s gaze, Jung Hyunah shook her head vigorously. Myeong-jeon glanced at Lee Seo and spoke.
“Lee Seo, pick the second and third songs for the performance and send them to Jung Hyunah in advance. That way, she’ll have time to rework the rhythm guitar parts into keyboard arrangements before rehearsals. Let us know the titles too.”
Lee Seo nodded.
“Make sure the drum parts are solid before then. We’ve got about a month and a half, right? That’s not enough time to fully stabilize the bass, so the drums need to hold things together. I trust you’ll do well, but it’s inevitable there might be gaps due to experience.”
“Got it.”
“And…”
“Jung Hyunah, please submit our application for the festival. For the band name… let’s just call it something temporary, like Group Sound or whatever.”
“Ah, okay.”
Myeong-jeon looked at Jung Hyunah’s face. Her wavering eyes seemed to reflect her unstable emotional state.
‘How did things end up like this?’
After the fourth period ended, Jung Hyunah thought about it as she headed to lunch. Part of her had hoped for this, but honestly, her true feelings leaned more towards not wanting it.
After all, playing an otaku song on stage? It was bound to be embarrassing.
‘But no one opposed it…?’
She wondered if she should’ve seen this coming from the moment their first practice song was chosen. Was she the only one who found it embarrassing? Surely, people should feel some shame about bringing underground culture into the spotlight. Otaku culture was meant to stay underground.
Of course, Somatnim, who pretended to be an otaku and acted like they frequented online communities, was just a normie at heart. She’d already expected no opposition from them.
But what about the other two? Ha Su-yeon knew absolutely nothing about that stuff—she didn’t even recognize Japanese anime as anything other than “cartoons.” She could be excluded from consideration. But Ho Rang? Didn’t she hate that kind of thing? Even when Jung Hyunah tried to recommend a masterpiece, all she got was “I don’t buy into otaku stuff.”
“Jung Hyunah, come on, let’s go together
The voice came from behind as she walked. Turning, she saw a classmate—someone she always ate lunch with.
“Were you trying to leave me behind?”
“Oh, I was just lost in thought. I wasn’t thinking about anything.”
“You weren’t trying to ditch me, were you? Haha.”
After two more people joined, the group headed to lunch together. The conversations along the way were always the same.
“Did you see that yesterday?”
“Oh, I watched something yesterday…”
“That person is so annoying, isn’t she?”
“Someone else is pretty cool, though.”
“Awesome. Crazy. Unreal.”
“That was pretty good.”
“Right? I thought so too!”
As the kids chattered, Jung Hyunah carefully calculated the timing to jump into the conversation. When her comment was well-received, she felt a quiet sense of relief.
Back in middle school, meeting her online friend Yoo Seo-ha in real life had made things bearable. But after that time ended, the high school she entered became a tough environment to adjust to.
Nobody to hang out with. Nobody to greet. Not even anyone to eat lunch with.
So, she desperately found a way to fit in, leading her to this group. She forced herself to watch and read dramas and shows she had no interest in, just to have something to talk about.
What she really wanted was to spend that time playing the piano or reading manga.
But Jung Hyunah cared too much about what people thought of her.
‘I can’t end up like them…’
The so-called otaku group. They weren’t outright bullied or discriminated against, but they were subtly ridiculed and looked down upon.
Jung Hyunah had no intention of joining that crowd. So, she endured boring, uninteresting content just to blend in with her current circle.
“Seriously, Bozaro is amazing. How do they make songs that good? It’s absolutely top-tier
“What are you talking about? K-On! exists.”
“That’s so outdated… Kon…”
It was impossible not to perk up at such conversations.
“Stop!”
Ha Su-yeon’s sharp voice rang out, startling Seo Ha, who flinched reflexively. Was it her fault again? No, not this time… right?
“The keyboard! Why aren’t you focusing? It’s not just a specific part—you’re throwing off the entire performance. Why do you keep doing this?”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“You know we’re running out of time, right? We still need to perfect three songs. And thanks to someone, we haven’t even mastered one yet…”
Lee Seo stifled a laugh at Ha Su-yeon’s comment, but her amusement was short-lived when Soo Yeon turned a stern eye on her, making her quickly fall silent.
“If even the keyboard, which I trusted, starts messing up, we’re in trouble. The schedule’s falling apart. What am I supposed to do? Go solo on stage? Should I pull out a double-neck guitar and channel Jimmy Page?”
Jeong Hyun-ah hung her head in shame. Twisting a strand of her hair, Ha Su-yeon sighed.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” she said before walking out of the room. Silence settled in her wake.
“Unnie, what’s wrong with you today? You were fine before.”
“I don’t know… I just can’t seem to focus.”
“It’s not still about the whole festival performance thing, is it?”
Jeong Hyun-ah flinched visibly, her face betraying her guilt. Seo Ha tilted her head in disbelief.
“Seriously? You’re still hung up on that?”
“No, but… just try putting yourself in my shoes.”
Jeong Hyun-ah interrupted, raising her voice in frustration.
“Here I am, just coasting through school, completely unnoticed, with people only calling me the arts student or whatever. And now, suddenly, I’m in a band. And we’re playing otaku songs.
When this is all over, do you think people are going to say, ‘Wow, that Jeong Hyun-ah from Class 2-2 plays amazing music’? Or will they laugh and go, ‘Hey, did you hear about that Jeong Hyun-ah from Class 2-2? Total otaku loser!’? How can you not understand where I’m coming from?”
“That’s just your ego talking! When I was a freshman, I played metal at school. Full makeup, went hard on the drums, and all people said was, ‘Oh, she’s in a band,’ and moved on.”
“But that’s because you’re a social butterfly! I can’t pull that off!”
“Oh my god, you’re impossible.”
The tension in the room escalated. Lee Seo, sensing the brewing storm, patted Jeong Hyun-ah on the shoulder and tried to mediate.
“Hey, calm down, okay? Seo Ha unnie isn’t trying to pick a fight. She’s just saying you shouldn’t worry so much.”
“Exactly. Don’t overthink it so much.”
“How can I not worry…? Ugh…”
Jeong Hyun-ah slumped into a chair, sighing deeply.
On some level, she knew she was overthinking it. No one really cared enough to pay attention to her.
But at the same time, she couldn’t stop imagining a future where everyone did notice her—mocking her, ridiculing her, laughing behind her back.
“Don’t stress yourself out.”
“How am I supposed to not stress out?”
“You’re going to sink into the floor at this rate. Look, instead of fretting, why don’t we focus and finish this practice session strong…”
“And then?”
Jeong Hyun-ah blinked, her attention drawn to the way Lee Seo trailed off as if there was more to say.
“Then, we should ask Ha Su-yeon to go hang out somewhere with us. Right, Seo Ha unnie?”
