Chapter 16: Directionality

As they entered the practice room, Yoo Seo-ha, who had regained her composure, and Jeong Hyun-ah, staring at her with a “What’s with her all of a sudden?” expression, were there.

“Alright, let’s try again.”

The practice session began anew. Surprisingly, this time, it felt like everyone was somewhat in sync. The previously erratic drumming now felt much more stable.

When Yoo Seo-ha glanced toward the drums during the bridge section, the drummer met her gaze with a determined nod and a fierce expression.

‘As expected, just a kid…’

Myeong-jeon smiled and turned his attention back to the music. Seeing the reaction unfold exactly as he had expected, he was struck by how young they seemed.

Truthfully, he acknowledged their abilities in his own way. It was one of those cliché scenarios often found in novels — “Their cold demeanor is actually to help me grow, and deep down, they recognize me!”

Of course, such things didn’t exist solely in novels. It was something you could often encounter in real life.

Take, for instance, the boss who harshly reprimands employees on-site, only to drunkenly ramble during team dinners, “Kim Manager, you know I value you, right? I’m only tough on you to help you grow.”

Most of those stories tend to end with, “They didn’t value me at all; they just saw me as someone to exploit.”

‘In the first place, there’s no decent person who doesn’t acknowledge you upfront.’

Even Myeong-jeon, in his own way, had tried to sway Yoo Seo-ha with similar tactics. However, unlike others, Myeong-jeon genuinely respected her. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Once you get into it, the coordination improves. The drums toned down their over-assertiveness… It feels alright. At this pace, practicing once or twice a week for about a month should wrap up this song.”

“Oh~ So we’ll start practicing another song then? Should we decide now?”

At Iseo’s question, Myeong-jeon tilted his head slightly. While choosing the next song was important, there was something far more crucial.

“Well, there’s a lot to discuss first. Let’s call it for today and talk it over at a café.”

Myeong-jeon placed the tray on the table. The chatter among the group quieted immediately.

“Alright then, let’s decide on what needs to be settled first.”

“Before that…”

Yoo Seo-ha interrupted Myeong-jeon and pointed toward the guitar in its case.

“That guitar, by any chance…”

“Yes.”

Iseo and Jeong Hyun-ah looked puzzled at Myeong-jeon’s response. After sipping his coffee, Myeong-jeon explained.

“It’s a Black Strat. The 2008 model.”

“As I thought…! With that appearance and sound, it could only be that.”

Yoo Seo-ha nodded repeatedly, seemingly pleased her guess was correct. The other two, however, appeared clueless.

“You don’t know the Black Strat? You too, Bin?”

“How would I know?”

“This is basic knowledge.”

Scratching her head, Yoo Seo-ha began to explain.

“The Black Strat is short for Black Stratocaster. It’s the signature guitar of David Gilmour, guitarist of Pink Floyd. He recorded Meddle, Live in Pompeii, Obscured by Clouds, The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, Animals, The Wall, and The Final Cut with it. It’s the guitar that defined Pink Floyd’s golden era.”

“In 2008, Fender released it as a Custom Shop signature model, and it was discontinued in 2017. If you want to buy one in mint condition now, you’d need at least twelve million won.”

At those words, the other two stared intently at the guitar. Myeong-jeon couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.

Few people could recognize his guitar. It didn’t have any particularly distinctive features; it was just a black guitar.

‘Arrogant as she is, she seems to take music quite seriously.’

That was Myeong-jeon’s impression. Of course, recognizing his guitar had no real connection to taking music seriously, but people tend to interpret things in ways that suit them.

“Can I take it out and have a look?”

When he nodded, Yoo Seo-ha immediately took the guitar out for inspection. Meanwhile, the other two stared at it as if wondering if it was truly worth over ten million won. Myeong-jeon leisurely sipped his coffee before speaking.

“The first song we practiced was something we picked in a rush, so it’s hard to judge anything from it. Since we’re deciding on the next cover song, let’s also talk about other things.”

The three nodded.

“What kind of band are we going to be?”

“Hmm?”

The question seemed expected to Myeong-jeon but left Iseo tilting her head in confusion.

“What do you mean by ‘what kind of band’?”

“Exactly that. What kind of band are we aiming to be?”

“A band is a band… right?”

Myeong-jeon looked at Iseo. She darted her eyes nervously before hurriedly answering.

“A band that plays band music?”

“So what is ‘band music’ supposed to mean? Like I said, what kind of band?”

Myeong-jeon tilted his head, waiting for Iseo’s reply. However, seeing her still confused, he elaborated.

“For example, ordinary workplace or school club bands often just stick to covering songs. Practice is all covers, performances are all covers, and they don’t release albums. It’s more like a hobby group.”

“But some bands go further and compose their own songs. Someone writes a song, and the rest add to it… That kind of process. Then they release albums and, eventually, transition to the mainstream, becoming stars.”

“…”

Just as Iseo seemed about to speak, Myeong-jeon raised his hand to stop her.

“That’s just a broad categorization. Beyond that, the type of music matters too. Rock? Metal? Pop?”

“Like what many college bands do — Muse, Queen? Or Korean bands like YB, Rumble Fish, or Guckkasten?”

Thinking about it like this only makes it harder. Placing meaning in things is a losing game.

You don’t need to assign meaning until there’s actually something worth it.

“…”

“Huh?”

Myeong-jeon turned to look at Iseo, who seemed unusually subdued.

‘With that bold makeup and that expression… It doesn’t seem like she’s actually shrunk back, but more like she feels… wronged, maybe? Hard to say how she feels.’

“What’s up?”

“Honestly… I didn’t really think about it that much.”

The sun had long since set, leaving only streetlights casting a yellow glow on the dark road. Hesitating, Iseo finally spoke.

Although she had asked Suyeon to start a band, the truth was that she had no real plan. She had simply watched Bocchi the Rock! and impulsively decided she wanted to join a band. So, she started learning the bass, and here she was.

“But everyone else seems so serious about it. Sei-bin… I mean, Jeong Hyun-ah-senpai, and Yoo Seo-ha-senpai too. They all know what kind of music they like and what they want to play.”

“So?”

“I don’t have that. And now, it feels like I dragged you into this without a real reason, just because I wanted to be in a band. I feel kind of sorry for that.”

Myeong-jeon tilted his head slightly. No purpose? That didn’t seem quite right.

“There are bands that focus entirely on covers. Do you know about them?”

“…No.”

“They’re called tribute bands. For example, there’s Brit Floyd for Pink Floyd, The Britains Finest for The Beatles, and in Korea, there’s the tribute band for Queen, the First Lady Band.”

“Wait… The band’s name is First Lady?”

Myeong-jeon nodded. They stylized it as Ovue, or something like that, he added.

“The point I’m trying to make is that there are lots of ways to enjoy music. You can just focus on covers, or dedicate yourself to tributes. What’s important is doing what you enjoy—and sticking with it. But…”

“But?”

Suyeon stopped walking and turned to face Iseo. The intensity in Suyeon’s straightforward gaze froze Iseo in place.

“If you plan to keep doing music, it wouldn’t hurt to learn more about it—like composing, writing lyrics, or arranging music.”

That suggestion left Iseo feeling overwhelmed. Composing? Writing lyrics? Arranging? These seemed like monumental tasks, far beyond anything she could imagine herself doing.

“Could I… even do something like that?”

“I’ve only met one person who couldn’t.”

Suyeon’s face grew thoughtful, as if recalling someone specific. Curious, Iseo couldn’t help but ask.

“Who was it?”

“That’s a secret.”

With that, Suyeon flashed a grin—a genuinely refreshing smile, Iseo thought.