Chapter 48 : Memorial (1)

The phone vibrated with a loud buzz.

Ha Su-yeon pulled it out without a second thought.

Although phones weren’t outright banned, the casual confidence with which Ha Su-yeon took out his phone during class startled Da-in.

Ha Su-yeon checked the incoming email.

[Notice of Confirmation for Band Pioneer Participation and Schedule Delay]

The content was about what the title suggested.

“Thank you for participating in the Band Pioneer project. Your participation has been confirmed. However, due to some issue, the schedule has been delayed. The program is expected to start in one or two months. Please understand. If you don’t like it, you can quit. That’s all.”

“Things like this never proceed on schedule, do they?”

Ha Su-yeon chuckled bitterly and tucked the phone into her bag.

When she looked up, she noticed the teacher glaring at him with an irritated expression.

Pretending to bury his head in the book, Ha Su-yeon watched as the teacher grudgingly let it slide.

“Do you think you can act up just because you’re in the second year?”

“I had to check my email on time. It couldn’t be helped. I have business matters to attend to,” Ha Su-yeon replied.

Hearing this, Da-in stifled a laugh.

It seemed like Ha Su-yeon ‘s band activities were going well, and her efforts to apologize for past incidents were nearing their conclusion.

Overall, things were looking up.

‘I just hope things with Joo-hee-senpai wrap up smoothly, though that seems unlikely.’

Although Da-in wasn’t close to  Joo-hee, she’d heard from Kwon Jihae that Joo-hee was still holding a grudge.

From the sound of it, the situation wouldn’t end peacefully no matter what.

‘Well, Ha Su-yeon said he has a plan, so I guess it’ll work out somehow.’

Da-in yawned.

The warm sunlight made her feel drowsy.

“Looks like it went well. Good job.”

“Thank you.”

Ha Su-yeon stepped out of the recording booth and took a sip of coffee handed to him by Joon- hong.

This recording session had been a favor in exchange for borrowing a guitar during a session with Tom Anderson.

‘Now that I think about it, I didn’t even use the guitar back then. Was it really necessary to record this?’

Still, since the recording was already done, Ha Su-yeon decided not to sweat the small stuff.

After all, accumulating both tangible and intangible assets always proved helpful in the long run.

“I saw your performance recently. It was great.”

“Huh? Oh, really? Were you there that day?”

“No, Paradox streamed it live on YouTube. I watched it since I saw you were performing. Your interpretation of Hysteria was brilliant—the synth arrangement especially. And the bass? It was outstanding.”

Hearing this, Ha Su-yeon couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

A beginner who used to scream in frustration had now shed that novice label, earning praise from professional session players.

“That wasn’t me—it was the bassist.”

“Oh… Your bassist must be quite talented.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good. Not a prodigy or anything, but skilled enough to play confidently in front of an audience.”

For a moment, Joon-hong felt like he was talking to a much older person.

Then again, it made sense— Ha Su-yeon was the bassist’s mentor.

Maybe the student had picked up some traits from the teacher.

Joon-hong suddenly remembered two pieces of news to share with Ha Su-yeon .

“By the way, my friend, who’s a journalist…”

“Yes?”

“They’re wondering if you’d be interested in an interview for the This Is Indie series.”

Hearing this, Ha Su-yeon recalled something.

This Is Indie—a well-known article series spotlighting indie rock groups regardless of genre.

Ha Su-yeon had read a few of them before.

‘Haven’t people said that series went downhill, though?’

There had been rumors about declining quality.

Or perhaps it was just sour grapes from bands that didn’t make it into the series.

“Hmm…”

“I think it’s a good idea. Even a short mention in an article can be great for promotion.”

“True, but… I’ll have to discuss it with the band members. I’m not sure it’s necessary right now.”

J00n-hong looked puzzled.

‘Why pass up such a good opportunity?’

But Ha Su-yeon had his reasons.

“There’s no real point in doing that now.”

The purpose of an interview was to promote the band to the public.

But in Ha Su-yeon ’s view, their group didn’t need promotion at this stage.

“For one thing, we can’t perform.”

The band members were all minors, busy with school, so they couldn’t hold regular performances.

Promoting now would just waste the attention they’d receive.

It made more sense to maintain a sense of mystery for the time being.

Besides, there was another issue—Ha Su-yeon’s past.

If the band gained attention, Sooyeon’s background would inevitably come to light.

Even if the media wasn’t what it used to be, their influence still held weight.

What if a scandal about school violence exploded?

It would destroy all of Ha Su-yeon ’s carefully laid plans.

“Anyway, I have my reasons.”

“Got it. I’ll let my friend know you’re not interested. But it’s a shame—it’s a good opportunity…”

“Yeah, but, well…”

Seeing Ha Su-yeon awkwardly brush it off, Joon-hong guessed he didn’t want excessive attention.

However, the second piece of news would inevitably draw some attention.

“And there’s one more thing—this could be good news for Sooyeon, too.”

Ha Su-yeon tilted his head in confusion as Joon-hong handed him a flyer.

It contained information about an upcoming event.

When Ha Su-yeon read it, his hands trembled, and the flyer slipped from his grasp.

“This… Is this real?”

Joon-hong regretted bringing it up, realizing it might be too soon.

“It’s… a sensitive topic for you, isn’t it?”

Still, Joon-hong thought it was better to address it now.

“Even if it’s difficult, I hope you can attend. You’re their spiritual successor. It’d mean a lot if you could be there.”

“Well…”

Ha Su-yeon barely registered Joon-hong ’s words.

He was too shocked.

The words on the flyer read:

[ Ha Su-yeon Memorial Concert].

‘What on Earth is Going On?’

The leaflet lay in front of Ha Su-yeon as she pondered, deeply troubled.

How was he supposed to handle this? A tribute concert for himself? It sounded utterly absurd.

Admittedly, it wasn’t entirely nonsensical.

Musicians, after all, loved organizing things like “Commemoration Concerts!” It was practically a tradition.

This one was likely born of the same impulse.

Someone probably thought, “We need a concert… but what theme? Oh, didn’t Ha Su-yeon die recently? Let’s hold a tribute concert! People would definitely come.”

But then the realization hit him.

A tribute concert means they’ll perform my songs. But do I even have any songs worth performing?

Ha Su-yeon was nothing if not brutally self-aware about his past.

A guitarist with extraordinary skill but utterly lacking in songwriting talent.

He had released a few solo albums, all of which flopped spectacularly.

His fame rested solely on his career as a session guitarist.

What could they possibly play at this concert to commemorate me?

Would they resort to something like, ” Ha Su-yeon played session on this track, so let’s perform it in his honor?”

I guess that’s not entirely implausible, she thought.

Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling.

What was he supposed to do? Should he attend or skip it entirely?

Honestly, he wanted to skip it.

The whole idea of attending a tribute concert for himself—while he was alive, no less—was mortifying.

The scene was almost comically unbearable: a roomful of people tearfully mourning his “death” as he sat there awkwardly.

The complication was her public identity as Ha Su-yeon. As a protégé of “ Myeong – jeon ,” her professional activities often invoked her name.

If she outright refused to attend, she’d seem heartless.

Pretending to be too grief-stricken to appear was also implausible given her visible, cheerful existence.

Though the world didn’t know that Ha Su-yeon and Ha Su-yeon were the same person, Myeong-jeon himself couldn’t stomach the thought of commemorating his own supposedly tragic demise.

“Excuse me, Soo-yeon, can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Ha Su-yeon slumped into his chair and responded weakly.

Enter Lee Hye-in, who sidled in cautiously, as if unsure whether to speak.

Her eyes landed on the leaflet in front of him.

“ Ha Su-yeon Tribute Concert…? Is that the guitar teacher you mentioned?”

“Ah… yeah… um, yeah… that’s right.”

“A tribute concert? She must’ve been an incredible person.”

Before Ha Su-yeon could respond, she picked up the leaflet and mused aloud.

“By the way, did she compose any notable songs? He was your teacher, after all. Maybe I should listen to one.”

“…Streetlight on 38th Avenue,” she offered after a pause, her mental gears turning desperately.

It was one of the few compositions he’d been genuinely proud of.

Even if others hadn’t been as impressed, it still felt like the safest choice.

“Hmm, not on YouTube,” she said.

What? It’s not there?!

“Well, uh, there’s another one… ‘Beyond the Blue Night.’”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one. Wasn’t that  Joo-hee’s song?”

“She covered it,” he clarified.

That particular track had been part of his attempt to become Korea’s Eric Clapton, releasing covers after giving up on original compositions.

While that album had enjoyed some success, it was mostly thanks to that song.

The rest had been criticized as an unimaginative retread of the 1960s.

As Lee Hye-in listened to “Beyond the Blue Night” on YouTube, nodding approvingly, Ha Su-yeon ’s thoughts spiraled.

Why?

Why did “Ha Su -yeon” have to suffer through the humiliation of explaining “ Ha Su-yeon ’s” failed career? Why did she have to bear the burden of his lackluster history?

All he wanted now was to faint and escape it all.