Chapter 4: Busking

“Yes, I am. Is there a problem?”

The person walked slowly towards them, drawing the attention of the murmuring crowd.

A baggy Adidas windbreaker, black bootcut jeans, and layered hair that looked hastily dried.

The girl exuded an inexplicable, decadent aura.

In reality, she had nothing but clothes a young girl (factually) would wear. This was the best outfit among the limited options.

“Oh, uh, no! You’re… from Mule, right?”

“…I’ll just set up.”

Myeong-jeon chose to set up rather than offer explanations.

At her unexpectedly cold tone, the two men’s faces stiffened, and the surrounding crowd buzzed. But Myeong-jeon continued setting up, unfazed.

The amp settings were a slightly driven clean tone. The wah pedal and fuzz face were connected. It wasn’t as comprehensive as his full setup, but sufficient for busking.

He’d cover the rest with his playing.

Myeong-jeon lightly clenched and unclenched his hand, then practiced a few chords. His mind knew the chords, but his hand muscles screamed in protest at the unfamiliar movements.

‘High-speed metal playing is out of the question.’

To grab attention here, something flashy was needed… like Canon Rock, which young kids often played. But if he tried that with these hands, he’d only be able to play two or three songs at most.

“Um… student.”

“Yes.”

As he loosened his hands, a voice called from behind him.

“We were actually… um… planning to play songs we know. Do you know any of them?”

Even as he spoke, Jae-shin thought, This girl probably doesn’t know any old songs.

She might know some really popular ones – like Stairway to Heaven or Smoke on the Water – but probably not the songs he and his friend had planned to play.

“I know most of them…”

On the contrary, Myeong-jeon found it absurd. Even as an old man, he’d kept up with current music trends as a musician. For example, songs by BTS and Blackpink.

Their thoughts misaligned, Jae-shin spoke.

“Then why don’t you play something you know first? We’ll follow along if we know it.”

Jae-shin conceded.

“I don’t think there’s anything I don’t know…”

She doesn’t think there’s anything she doesn’t know? How absurd…

And Su-yeon’s murmuring. The drummer found it ridiculous. Doesn’t know anything she doesn’t know? Even he, clearly older than her, didn’t know every song.

‘So it’s guitar-bass-drums.’

Myeong-jeon ran a hand through his hair and played a famous riff. Dun dun dun, dun dun, dun dun. The drum fill should’ve come in.

But it didn’t.

Myeong-jeon looked at the drummer quizzically. The drummer looked flustered.

“You don’t know Sunshine of Your Love?”

“…Huh?”

“Then how about White Room?”

He seemed to not know that one either. Exasperated, Myeong-jeon tilted his head back. What was the world coming to? How could these guys, who claimed to play music in a band…

“…Ah! Eric Clapton! Cream! Is that what you mean?”

“Cream?”

The bassist finally caught on, but the drummer still looked lost. Looking at Myeong-jeon’s disappointed expression, Hyung-tae thought,

‘Is she really that good to make that kind of face?’

Jae-shin had said it would be fine, but Hyung-tae found it hard to believe. She showed up with a secondhand Fender and a couple of beat-up pedals, cosplaying as a ‘rock-and-roll grandpa high school girl.’ He felt his prejudice rising.

“Then do you know Layla?”

“I… know that one.”

Myeong-jeon sighed deeply. Even the audience, who had been watching the whole exchange, was starting to feel skeptical.

The famous riff began.

This time, the drums and bass joined in properly. After a pick slide during the intro, Myeong-jeon began playing the clean tone. A song anyone interested in music would recognize.

Ooooh~ rippled through the crowd.

Was it because they didn’t expect to hear this song? Or because most people were more familiar with the acoustic version? Or simply the anticipation of the performance finally starting?

Thinking he’d never know the reason, Myeong-jeon began to sing.

What’ll you do when you get lonely
And nobody’s waiting by your side

Unlike the sweet voices of typical busking vocalists, this voice was raw and gritty.

You’ve been runnin’ and hidin’ much too long
You know it’s just your foolish pride

Blues rock, unfamiliar to the younger generation. But a classic is a classic. The crowd tapped their feet and responded to the upbeat melody.

*Layla-! *

Reaching the highlight, the bass and drums joined in for the chorus. Myeong-jeon grinned and sang his part.

“You’ve got me on my knees!”

Applause erupted, the rhythm quickly intensifying and spreading. People hurrying by, those loitering with nothing to do, and those simply looking for something interesting began to gather.

Layla-!!

The highlight again. This time, the crowd sang along. One or two at first, then ten, then dozens.

“I’m begging, darling please-!”

It had been a long time since Myeong-jeon had sung lead vocals. Except for recording albums, he hadn’t sung in front of an audience before.

Layla-!!!

And now, his first time singing lead vocals was in a woman’s body.

“Darling won’t you ease my worried mind-!”

Feeling the irony, Myeong-jeon launched into the solo.

As the drum fill ended, the guitar cried out in a clean tone. Constant bending and vibrato created a dynamic sound.

The crowd roared. The stomping and clapping intensified. Some yelled, “Woo!” in enthusiastic response.

‘I’ve never improvised a solo like this before.’

Fingers flying across the fretboard, Myeong-jeon thought. He was the type to meticulously plan every performance. Even the seemingly improvised solos and techniques were all pre-planned.

But in this session, his hands were moving on their own. And in a very positive way.

“Crazy!!”

A loud male voice rang out as soon as the one-minute solo concluded with a variation of the main melody. Laughter erupted at the enthusiastic response. The initial skepticism was gone, replaced by anticipation for the next song.

“Wow… student, have you been playing guitar… since you were four?”

The bassist asked as soon as the song ended. Well, he couldn’t even remember when he started…

“Not long.”

This body, ‘Su-yeon,’ had first touched a guitar this morning. Myeong-jeon answered truthfully.

But who would believe that? To the drummer and bassist, it seemed as if ‘Mr. Slowhand’ himself had descended upon them.

The crowd grew larger. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, people flocked to the performance.

“Next song! Next song! Next song!”

Most of the people gathered didn’t know the song they’d just heard. Whether it was The Police’s Every Breath You Take or Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love. Of course, some recognized Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit.

“Awesome guitar playing!!”

“You’re pretty, unnie!”

“Look this way~!”

But it didn’t matter if they knew the songs or not. That wasn’t important to the people gathered here.

What mattered was that the guitarist right in front of them… was giving a truly phenomenal performance.

“Play some Jimi Hendrix!!”

During the lull between songs, a young boy’s voice broke the silence. Laughter followed. Judging by his voice, he was probably too young to know John Mayer, let alone Jimi Hendrix.

But hearing the request, Myeong-jeon asked the other two,

“Do you know any Hendrix songs?”

They felt like students being called out for not doing their homework. Even though she was much younger, they felt compelled to make excuses.

“Uh… I know most of them.”

Unlike the bassist, the drummer replied, “Only a few.” He listed the few he knew. Myeong-jeon chose one and picked up his guitar.

A sound like an echo in a cave. The wah-wahing guitar transitioned into a fuzz tone, and the drums kicked in.

“Woah…”

The crowd murmured in awe. Again, they didn’t know the song. Someone had shouted ‘Jimi Hendrix’ earlier, so they assumed it was one of his songs.

The psychedelic sound of the wah pedal filled the air. As the Fender amp’s volume began to mesmerize the crowd, the vocals entered, raw and powerful.

Well I stand up next to a mountain
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand

Dreamlike… but not sweet.

Closer to disorientation and numbness.

Some in the front row were already lost in the music, others swayed and clapped, seemingly entranced.

Well I pick up all the pieces and make an island
Might even raise a little sand
Yeah

And some felt a slight sense of levitation, their minds expanding. The very state psychedelic rock aimed to achieve.

‘Cause I’m a voodoo child
Lord knows I’m a voodoo child, baby

The end of the first verse. A razor-sharp solo assaulted the semi-hallucinating crowd, like a splash of cold water on drunken revelers.

But what awaited them was another wave of purple haze.

The people who had been clapping and cheering just moments ago were now swaying and groaning, intoxicated by the music, acutely addicted.

The song was already over at that point.

But the performance wasn’t.

Now was the time for improvisation, running endlessly towards an unknown destination.

Only the bass and drums repeating the same rhythm, and the guitar playing an eternal solo, remained.

One by one, people rose, their bodies twitching like zombies. Like Hongdae at 3 a.m. on a Friday night.

“What the?!”

Passersby, driven by idle curiosity, were transformed into psychedelic zombies, wandering around.

The brain-dead zombies battled between their muscles screaming Please stop… and their hearts yearning for it to never end.

But there was one undeniable truth.

Music must eventually end.

Because while music creates peace,

The authorities create busking zone reservation schedules.

According to the strict laws of Hongdae, the drum fill signaled the end. With a crashing sound—

“Thank you!”

The performance was over.