Chapter 25: Session

[Are Korean high school festival bands this skilled these days?!?! Reacting to a school band’s performance skills!!]

(“Hello, this is James. Today, I’ll be watching a trending video recommended by one of our subscribers.

It’s from a high school festival, apparently.

I heard they performed three songs, and the band’s skill level is supposedly insane.

Especially the guitarist—rumor has it their skills surpass the pros. Shall we take a look?

Who is this guitarist? Who is she? Her alternate picking is pro-level. High school? Holy.

The other members are pretty good too. They all play well. But this guitar girl is amazing.

Wow, man. I really want to thank the subscriber who recommended this band.

They’re incredible! Honestly, I was a bit skeptical at first, but since I wasn’t familiar with the original songs, I didn’t have any expectations. Still, this performance was phenomenal. I’m looking forward to what’s next!”)

-The guitar is insane.

-Why am I tearing up while listening to such an upbeat song? I smiled at first, and suddenly tears came out of nowhere.

The vocalist and guitarist’s performance is outstanding! This video feels destined to become legendary.

-The vocalist is insane. Their composure, movements, everything—it’s all insane.

I think I’ve just become a fan… please go viral.

-Look at the expressions when they’re singing… They genuinely seem to be enjoying the stage, and it’s contagious.

-The entire band looks like they’re having so much fun that it makes me happy too.

-We need something like “High School Band” to follow “High School Rapper.”

-The instruments are amazing, but especially the guitarist—she’s carrying the weight of four people alone.

As she scrolled through the countless comments, Iseo couldn’t stop smiling unconsciously. Hehehe. Hehehehe. Hehehehehe.

“Choi Iseo! Stop laughing like a crazy person and eat your meal.”

“Hehehehe… Okay.”

Her mother’s shout echoed from outside her room. Iseo lazily responded, let out a big yawn, and walked out. The table was already set.

“Sigh… Just because it’s vacation, you’re holed up at home all day. Are you really not going to do any exercise?”

“I will… someday.”

She gave a half-hearted answer, sat at the table, and picked up her spoon.

Eating while using her phone is a must, she thought, as she grabbed her phone and opened an online community.

Someone must have recorded the performance, and as it makes its rounds online, it would get compliments for sure, right? She’d thought about it before.

What if someone recognized her? What if the video’s comments were all full of praise? Should she reveal herself and say, “Oh, I played bass in this band”?

But even with these wishful thoughts, the current situation was beyond anything Iseo could have imagined.

Who would have guessed that the school festival footage recorded by the broadcasting club would include their band’s performance—and that it would hit the algorithm?

Iseo opened the original video again. The performance video had already hit hundreds of thousands of views.

-I hope this hits a million views soon.

How can people not watch this? This is a national loss.

She took a bite of rice, checked the view count, took another bite, and checked again.

For some reason, it felt like she could eat endlessly just by watching this video.

Iseo opened KakaoTalk and was about to message her friends but stopped herself.

‘Didn’t they say they’d block me if I bragged one more time…?’

But it wasn’t like she bragged that much. Maybe ten times? Still, how could she not brag about a video this good?

But her friends, not being in a band themselves, didn’t seem to understand her feelings.

So who else could she talk to? The band members were the only ones left.

‘Now that I think about it, what’s Ha Su-yeon been up to?’

Since the vacation started, Ha Su -yeon hadn’t contacted anyone, not even checking in the group chat except to confirm messages.

‘She’s alive, right? She hasn’t joined another band, has she?’

“Why isn’t she here yet…?”

Ha Su-yeon glanced anxiously at the time on his phone.

Renting a recording studio cost money, and as a broke arts college student, Ha Su-yeon valued every second.

He’d even set everything up in advance, but the crucial session musician still hadn’t shown up.

“I told you we should’ve gone with Jungmin.”

“Jungmin doesn’t have the right vibe, though. How many times do I have to tell you?”

A friend chimed in with complaints. Ha Su-yeon scratched his head and replied.

“Do you think I’m swimming in money? I hired them because I had to. The others didn’t feel right.”

The album was supposed to commemorate his graduation from arts college and mark his fresh start.

What began as a casual project gradually became more serious, turning into a major production that required hiring session musicians.

For the most part, the album production was smooth, thanks to the prestige of his college.

But as they reached the final stages of recording, Ha Su-yeon was hit with doubt.

‘Is this really good enough?’

Something felt lacking, though he couldn’t pinpoint what. Frustrated, he randomly browsed YouTube and stumbled upon a guitar performance.

The moment he heard it, Ha Su-yeon knew it was exactly the vibe he’d been searching for.

He immediately reached out to the performer.

“Still, hiring someone you found online just because of one original song… does that even make sense?”

The friend grumbled again, trying to rehash the already-settled issue. Ha Su-yeon shot him a glare, and the friend awkwardly looked away.

Ha Su-yeon sighed and said, “They’ll come eventually. They wouldn’t ghost us. It’s the 21st century—everything’s on record.”

Just as he finished speaking, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

The screen displayed the word [Guitar].

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is White Room. I’m at the studio entrance now.”

The voice was younger and deeper than he’d imagined.

Though he’d heard it in the YouTube video, it still surprised him.

“Oh, okay. I’ll come down right away.”

Ha Su-yeon rushed to the first floor of the building where the studio was located.

Standing outside was a tall girl with long hair tied halfway back. Her sharp features and stoic expression gave her an intense vibe.

“Um, so…”

“Nice to meet you. I’m White Room.”

“Oh, yeah, nice to meet you…”

A large guitar case was strapped to his back, and he held a hard case in his hand.

He had the aura of a seasoned session musician, and Sehyun couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

“Are you Lee Sehyun?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Sehyun noticed that her voice was trembling slightly. Why was that?

‘I didn’t expect her to be this handsome…!’

He had the kind of appearance that would make anyone passing by turn their head for a second look.

And on top of that, he was good at guitar? The world was truly unfair.

“Ah, hello… Are you going in right away? We’ve already set most of it up on our end.”

“Oh, okay.”

‘Something about his age and the way he speaks doesn’t quite match.’

That was Sehyun’s impression.

The moment they entered the recording studio, the guitar case was opened, revealing a Fender Stratocaster.

It was black everywhere except for the neck.

‘A Fender?’

Sehyun had never explicitly told him not to bring a Fender.

Still, a Fender?

Although he hadn’t personally experienced it, Sehyun had heard from friends that Fenders had an unmistakable “Fender sound.”

But Sehyun quickly wiped the expression off his face.

‘Fender… Does it really matter? As long as he plays well, that’s what counts.’

“This is the track I’d like you to record for,” Sehyun said, getting straight to the point as he played the song.

It was a smooth, emotional ballad.

Watching Ha Su-yeon quietly listen, Sehyun opened his mouth hesitantly, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“But there’s something that feels off about it right now.

I thought it’d be better to add a guitar line, but I couldn’t find anyone I liked.

Then I heard your playing and decided to reach out.”

“Do you have the chord chart for this song?” Ha Su-yeon asked suddenly once Sehyun finished speaking.

Caught off guard, Sehyun froze for a moment before gesturing toward his friend.

His friend handed over a few sheets of A4 paper.

“Lower the vocals a bit…”

Ha Su-yeon’s age made it seem unlikely that he had done any session work before.

In fact, when asked for a portfolio, he had admitted he didn’t have one.

That likely meant this was his first session.

And yet, Ha Su-yeon handled it all so naturally, as if he had done this dozens of times before.

‘Is this what they call a prepared genius?’

That thought had also crossed Sehyun’s mind when he first heard Ha Su-yeon’s playing.

It didn’t feel like raw, unpolished talent.

It felt like watching a fully bloomed star.

Ha Su-yeon tapped his fingers lightly on the desk as if analyzing the song, his eyes closed.

After a moment, he opened his eyes, picked up the guitar, and said, “I’ll go in and play.

Let’s record it once.

After I’ve laid down the line, we can adjust the tone.”

“Oh… okay.”

It was a little bewildering.

He hadn’t even spent a few minutes listening to the song.

He hadn’t even heard the full track, yet he already had something in mind?

Sehyun exchanged a confused glance with his friend.

His friend shook his head, equally skeptical.

Though they weren’t professionals yet, they were students at one of Korea’s top arts universities.

They were renowned enough to be called geniuses wherever they went, and they had the skills to back it up.

But even they had never seen anything like this.

Coming up with a guitar line for a song you’d just heard, in mere minutes, at album-quality?

Was that even possible?

‘If that’s possible, why would session guitarists even exist?’

Hoping Ha Su-yeon wasn’t just winging it, Sehyun cast a wary glance toward the recording booth.

From inside, gentle guitar tones began to flow.