Chapter 18: Directionality

[Horang Yuseoha: Come to think of it, Bini, did you apply for the festival?]

After a dull day at school, while practicing piano, Hyunah received a KakaoTalk message.
The message, which she checked absentmindedly, contained content she couldn’t ignore.

[Jung Hyunah: What festival application?]

[Horang Yuseoha: Didn’t you agree to perform at your school’s festival?]

[Jung Hyunah: ???]

[Jung Hyunah: Did I?]

[Jung Hyunah: I don’t remember well…]

[Jung Hyunah: Wait, wait, wait.]

Hyunah thought back to a recent event.
After their first ensemble practice, something about deciding on a direction came up, and Ha Su-yeon had said something.
What had she said back then? Oh… she vaguely remembered agreeing.
But after thinking it over at home, it didn’t sit well with her, so she hadn’t said anything more since then.

[Jung Hyunah: Oh, that.]

[Jung Hyunah: I thought it wasn’t finalized for our festival?]

[Jung Hyunah: I think they said no decision was made yet.]

[Horang Yuseoha: But you seemed excited about it.]

[Jung Hyunah: I mean, I like it, but…]

[Horang Yuseoha: But what?]

Hyunah hesitated, wondering how to express her feelings.

There was this subtle feeling she couldn’t quite put into words.

She wanted to do it but also didn’t want to.

[Jung Hyunah: It’s kind of… complicated?]

She started typing a long message to better describe her emotions but erased it all.

Explaining her feelings in detail to gain empathy and then persuading others felt too exhausting.

It was easier to give a straightforward reason.

[Jung Hyunah: All we’ve practiced are anime songs. If we perform, we’d be singing anime songs, right?]

That was her biggest reason for hesitating to perform at the school festival.

It wasn’t that she’d face outright bullying with people yelling, “Ew, look at that weeb!”

Nor was she ostracized as part of an otaku group.

But she wasn’t particularly popular or outgoing either.

She was just an ordinary student, known as “the girl aiming for music college,” who often slept during class.

Performing at the school festival and drawing attention was not appealing to her.

Being in the spotlight inevitably led to annoying situations.

The song’s popularity among anime fans could attract those who’d befriend her, saying, “Oh, I love that too!”

But it could also invite ridicule from others labeling her as a total otaku.

In any case, her school life would change drastically.

In the emotionally sensitive adolescent years, even being mocked by a single class can make life feel unbearable.

The thought of being ridiculed on a school-wide level?

Instead of devising ways to avoid teasing after the performance, it seemed better not to perform at all.

[Horang Yuseoha: Why does that matter?]

[Horang Yuseoha: Just do it.]

Of course, Yuseoha couldn’t understand Hyunah’s feelings at all.

If you like it, why not just do it?

At the performances she had attended with friends or acquaintances, there were plenty of people performing “otaku songs.”
Everyone seemed to be having fun.

“Isn’t it strange to care about that?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.”

The church caretaker, cleaning the practice room, reacted to Yuseoha’s muttered words.

Yuseoha shook her head and continued fiddling with her phone.

[Jung Hyunah: I’m telling you, there’s something about it.]

[Horang Yuseoha: What’s there?]

[Jung Hyunah: Plus, I can’t decide this alone. There’s only a month and a half left. How would we manage?]

“… I mean, it’s nice if we do it.”

Hyunah mumbled to herself.

Everyone has such thoughts sometimes, don’t they?

For instance, what if aliens invaded and said, “If you clear the hardest rhythm game song with an SS grade, we’ll spare your planet,” and you pulled it off perfectly, saving the Earth and gaining universal acclaim?

Even without such absurd scenarios, everyone craves recognition at some point during their childhood.
The desire to be acknowledged for your work or hobbies is universal.

As a regular Korean teenager, Hyunah occasionally dreamt of receiving recognition in front of others.For her piano skills, for her otaku hobbies, or for anything, really.

But in this particular case, she felt unprepared.And somehow, it was just… embarrassing.

Myeong-jeon entered the café with Iseo.At a corner table sat Hyunah and Yuseoha.

‘What’s going on today?’

During class, an unexpected KakaoTalk message from Seoha arrived.

It read, “I think we need to decide on something today. Can we meet this evening?”

Hyunah wondered if there really was something they needed to decide but ended up bringing Iseo along to the café.

They exchanged brief greetings and sat at the table.

Seoha looked indifferent, while Hyunah seemed awkward and unsure.

“So, what did you want to discuss today?”

“There’s something we need to decide, but I don’t think we’ve done it yet.”

“And what’s that?”

“The band name.”

At that, Iseo exclaimed, “Ah!” in realization.

Come to think of it, a band name is crucial for a band, yet they hadn’t decided on one…

“It is kind of a big deal. So, do you have any ideas in mind?”

“Uh… not really.”

Hmm. Myeong-jeon crossed his arms.

He had some advice on naming bands and decided to share one of them.

“It’s usually better to go with an English name.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, even if it doesn’t have much meaning, it sounds cooler in English.

For example, ‘Rolling Stones’ sounds impressive, right? But if it were called ‘Rolling Rocks’ in Korean, would it still be cool?

The same goes for ‘The Beatles.’ Imagine calling them ‘The Beetles’ in Korean. People would just go, hmm…”

The examples were endless.

Take AC/DC—what does ‘alternating current/direct current’ even mean?

Or names like The Yardbirds, Cream, Animals, or The Beach Boys—translated into Korean, none of them sound appealing.

And then there are Korean band names.

Consider Songgolmae, Deulgukhwa, Infinite Track, or Cho Yong-pil and the Great Birth.

Can you imagine how much thought went into crafting these names?

“Well, I don’t think we need to overthink it that much. Right?

Even simple names like ‘Kessoku Band’ or ‘Afternoon Tea Time’ sound fine.”

“Are those really good examples?”

Myeong-jeon scratched his head slightly.

He wasn’t sure he understood the younger generation’s preferences.

“I feel like it’ll be hard to decide right away. Nothing specific comes to mind yet.”

At that, Iseo mumbled, “Cable Tie, maybe…” and then clamped her mouth shut.

Cable Tie? What kind of inspiration led to a name like that?

“And the second thing we need to decide—when will our first performance be?”

“Well… we haven’t decided yet.”

Myeong-jeon tapped the table lightly before speaking again.

“Didn’t Hyunah mention that her school festival is at the end of December?

That seems like a good time for it.”

“Right?”

Seoha nodded as if expecting this, and Iseo smiled slightly, looking pleased with the idea.

“…”

However, Hyunah herself didn’t look as enthusiastic.

Was she reluctant, or was there another reason?

Myeong-jeon remembered her being pretty excited when the idea of performing at her school festival was first brought up.

“Um, I’m a bit hesitant…”

“Why?”

“It’s just… I feel kind of embarrassed. You know, performing in front of people.

And our first ensemble piece is an anime song, right? With Japanese lyrics.”

“Yes.”

“That’s… kind of embarrassing.

Performing something so… otaku-like in front of others feels a bit… off.”

“Why would that be embarrassing?”

Hyunah mumbled, her words barely audible as if she wanted to sink into the ground.

But her comment was quickly dismissed by Iseo, who cut her off with a genuinely puzzled expression