Chapter 45 : Open Mic (5)

They say words without legs travel a thousand miles. But these days, words without legs can’t compare to lightning-fast letters spreading far and wide.

The rumor that a session musician had given Kim Jae-hoon, a music director more infamous for being a lousy jerk than for his skills, a hard time spread like wildfire.

“Did you hear about Hoonbal-nom*?”

(*A derogatory nickname for Kim Jae-hoon.)

“I heard on the day it happened. Ha! I always knew that guy would get what was coming to him someday.”

Most conversations were about how the universally disliked Kim Jae-hoon had been humiliated.

However, not all the chatter followed that pattern.

Some staff who had been on-site that day shared stories that were hard to believe by ordinary standards.

“Are you saying the guitar recording was done in a single take? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“No, I’m serious. A friend of mine was on the staff that day, and they said they saw it with their own eyes.”

“What? You’re telling me it wasn’t even some experienced pros but a high school girl? And she nailed the whole recording in one go? Stop talking nonsense.”

“I’m telling you it’s true. Ugh, it’s frustrating.”

Some refused to believe the story.

“If there’s someone who can record that fast, shouldn’t we bring them in for the next project? Sounds like they’re insanely good.”

“Yes, when I went into the editing session, there wasn’t much to fix. They just recorded straight through, made a few tweaks, and it was done.”

Others started thinking about how they could recruit the mysterious “high school girl guitarist” to their projects. Each had their own take on the unbelievable figure who had emerged in the scene.

And this buzz extended to the guitarist community.

“Joon-hong, I heard there’s a new kid on the scene worth keeping an eye on. Did you hear about it?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, I’ve been telling people about it. It seems like she might be a student of Teacher Ha Su-yeon.”

“What? Ha Su-yeon had a student? Wait, so you’re saying this girl everyone’s talking about is one of Ha Su-yeon’s students?”

Such conversations circled around drinking tables.

“Thank you, BaboKiller-nim. ‘Jin-sung hyung, these days it feels like the Korean rock and metal scene is barren.’ Sigh… The attention on the scene has really dropped.”

= Korea’s already a wasteland.
= Rock is dead.
= When will we get to see something like a G3 concert in Korea? I’d love to see it at least once before I die.

“Let’s be honest, something like G3 is a pipe dream. I’m not saying I’m humble to a fault, but I think I did alright during my prime. Even then, something like that wasn’t feasible.

But recently, I heard there’s a guitarist worth noting.

You guys know Ha Su-yeon right? Maybe the general public doesn’t, but…”

= When Teacher  Ha Su-yeon sessioned on my track, he was incredible.

“Ah, Kyureh-nim, right? Yeah, Ha Su-yeon hyung was easily one of the top three guitarists in Korea. Anyway, I heard he had a student? Apparently, she’s so good it’s like Ha Su-yeon came back to life. And get this—she’s a high school girl.”

A ghost is wandering the internet.

A ghost named the “genius high school girl guitarist.”

She wasn’t setting the entire internet ablaze, but within the tiny, almost moribund Korean band scene, the people who were always waiting for the next juicy bit of gossip began to stir.

It wasn’t long before they uncovered the identity of the guitarist who had been the subject of all the rumors.

Name:Ha Su-yeon .
Gender: Female.
Age: High school student (presumed).
Appearance: Incredibly pretty.

YouTube Channel: Operates a channel called White Room with about 10,000 subscribers. Max views: 250,000.

The skill shown in her videos is undeniably impressive.

However, videos can be edited and re-recorded endlessly until perfect.

This alone wasn’t solid proof of her skill.

Under this reasoning, people began looking for concrete evidence, and they found it in a video.

It was a live performance of Eric Johnson’s Manhattan on guitarist Lim Joon-hong’s channel.

People went wild.

Could someone that young really play that smoothly, capturing the essence of the original? Were there any other performances?

At the end of the video, there was a song titled The You of That Day.

This track, reminiscent of 1980s blues rock, was an excellent piece.

But wait—the band was called Group Sound? Did this band even perform live?

And so, people began digging.

They found a second performance—a rendition of an anime song.

Social media posts emerged, saying things like, “Group Sound is amazing. Their performance of Boza’s song almost made me a fan.”

With these clues, they eventually uncovered the first performance.

The quality of the school’s camera and microphone was poor, but the band’s skill was unmistakable.

The internet buzzed with comments like, “Wow, this is their first performance? Crazy,” “It’s a weeb song, but not bad,” and “A four-member girl band? Interesting.”

However, one comment stirred a ripple in the narrow internet circles of the scene:

“Hey, but isn’t the bassist pretty terrible? Feels like she’s just riding along.”

Afraid that their favorite band might get overshadowed, someone threw out a snake-hearted remark.

“Alright, let’s take a break,” said Ha Su-yeon, lightly scratching his guitar strings.

Seoha sprang up to grab a coffee, while Hyun-ah stayed seated, practicing piano on her keyboard—though whether that was even possible was unclear.

Ha Su-yeon approached Lee-seo, who was sitting blankly on the sofa, staring into space.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Huh?”

“Something wrong?”

Lee-seo had been unfocused from the start.

The practice was going well, but she looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

As the band leader, Ha Su-yeon couldn’t just let it slide.

“Uh… it’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, then is it something lunar? Haha… No, sorry.”

Seeing that Lee-seo had no intention of opening up, Ha Su-yeon tried lightening the mood with a joke.

But the atmosphere only grew heavier.

Seoha looked at him in horror, prompting Ha Su-yeon to quickly apologize.

“Anyway, if it’s nothing, then you wouldn’t look like this. Are you on your period or something?”

“No… it’s not that.”

“If not that, then is it just one of those gloomy days? Rain’s not falling, though. Feeling sad for no reason? Gloomy Sunday? Except it’s not even Sunday.”

Lee-seo only looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

“Well, I mean, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me? You’re not a kid or anything…”

Then it hit Ha Su-yeon.

All the people in front of her were, in fact, kids.

She herself might have grown older in years, but mentally, he wasn’t much different.

“It’s just age-appropriate stuff.”

Ha Su-yeon sighed internally.

There’s that thing they call the “8th-grade syndrome,” isn’t there? Though it doesn’t necessarily strike in middle school, this is the age of adolescence.

It’s a time when everything feels heightened.

She, too, had been through all sorts of mess during his teenage years .

Time she strapped on an acoustic guitar and declared she’d travel the entire country earning money, only to get a serious beating from his father.