Chapter 8 Part 2: Going to School

Even though it was a distant memory, Myeong-jeon tried to recall the high school girls of his time. They were… well…

‘Not very helpful.’

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the teacher who’d just entered. A meek-looking male teacher. He’d known the world had changed, but he hadn’t expected to experience it so vividly.

Back when he was in school, teachers were like gods or kings. If a teacher slapped you, you just took it. If you complained at home, you’d be told, “You must have deserved it,” or even get another beating from your father for talking back.

And now, teachers were like this. Myeong-jeon sighed, watching the students subtly teasing the teacher from the front row.

What was the world coming to? It felt like the world needed a good, old-fashioned dose of discipline to get back on track.

“Since you’re back, karaoke after school?”

A girl sidled up to him. The one who’d been aggressively scrolling through his messages earlier. Her name was… Park Da-in, he thought.

“Da-in.”

“Yeah?”

“Focus on your studies.”

“Whoa, she’s crazy. Ha Su-yeon just told me to study. Did she get shot in the head or something?”

“Maybe she finally came to her senses after her head injury.”

Someone replied indifferently to Park Da-in’s outburst.

“Something’s definitely broken. I saw her messages, she didn’t check any of the guys’ texts.”

“Seriously?”

When did these kids ever study? Myeong-jeon looked at his textbook. A mix of familiar and unfamiliar material made his head spin.

While the students in the front row diligently focused on their studies, those around Myeong-jeon were whispering, passing notes, and generally wasting time. It was impossible to concentrate.

Myeong-jeon sighed deeply.

After the second period, surrounded by chattering students, Myeong-jeon rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. How can I make money? Part-time job? It would take too long. Session work? Even if he could manage the equipment, he didn’t have the reputation anymore. Instagram? He didn’t even want to think about it. YouTube? Hmm, maybe there was some potential there…

“Su-yeon, let’s go to the bathroom.”

“Go ahead.”

“No way, we’re going together~”

Myeong-jeon was dragged out of his seat, practically carried to the girls’ bathroom. As he and the trio entered, the other girls inside quickly scattered.

“Why are they leaving?”

“I don’t know~ Scared, maybe? She really did lose her memory, you know?”

“OMG… does that mean I can have her brass knuckles?”

The girls looked at Su-yeon expectantly. But Su-yeon didn’t react, just asked,

“What are brass knuckles?”

“Whoa, she’s not kidding, is she? You don’t even remember anything, why did you come to school? Your mom didn’t make you, did she?”

“Well, even if I don’t remember much, I didn’t see a reason not to come. So I came.”

Actually, I remember everything, Myeong-jeon thought. But the girls looked increasingly concerned.

“I saw her outfit today and thought, ‘Wow, she’s going for the super-nerd concept, how hardcore,’ but it’s not a concept, it’s real. That’s creepy.”

“How do we still remember?”

“I remember we were friends, but I don’t remember much else.”

But looking through ‘Ha Su-yeon’s’ memories, they didn’t seem that close. She hung out with them, but went drinking and partying with other kids. She’d even talked behind their backs.

‘What a tiring life…’

‘Ha Su-yeon’ was ‘Ha Su-yeon,’ and Myeong-jeon was Myeong-jeon. He had no intention of following in this girl’s footsteps. He didn’t want a deep relationship with these three, either, though they might think differently.

‘Ha Su-yeon’ and her friends didn’t drink and smoke because they enjoyed it. They simply craved the thrill of transgression, the sense of liberation from societal rules.

But to Seo Myeong-jeon, a veteran of debauchery who’d even been arrested for smoking marijuana, it was nothing more than a foolish trade of the future for fleeting pleasure.

He hadn’t been a good student either, but he’d always practiced his guitar. Thanks to that, he’d managed to make a living, though he hadn’t become successful. What were these kids planning to do with their lives? Tsk tsk.

“Let’s stop putting on makeup and go back.”

“But Yeon-soo, you’re pretty, so you don’t need makeup! We do!”

“Get a grip and study. I don’t remember much, but after getting my head smashed while drunk, I realized all this partying is pointless.”

Even after class ended, Myeong-jeon was surrounded by girls. Not just the trio, but also girls from other classes, seniors, and so on.

They all asked the same questions: “Are you going to study now?” “Did you really lose your memory?” Tired of answering, Myeong-jeon just stood up and left.

‘I guess I’ll be dealing with this until winter break. Maybe even longer.’

Even though he didn’t have to offer a finger to escape like some mafia movie, severing his deeply entangled past relationships wouldn’t be easy.

Relationships were reciprocal. Even if he said, “Let’s stop this,” they might still cling to him. If this were in the adult world, he could just avoid them, but within the confines of school, that wouldn’t be possible.

It was already getting dark on his way home. Myeong-jeon walked absentmindedly. He planned to play guitar and continue thinking about how to make money.

“Ha Su-yeon!”

A familiar voice. Not the voices he’d heard all day. A tone he’d heard earlier.

“Going home?”

“Yeah.”

Yi-seo, on her way to the practice room, was delighted to see Su-yeon.

‘Come to think of it, she might have just bought that amp on a whim. Maybe she just thought, ‘I’ll buy an amp first and figure things out later!’’

The same went for the effects pedal. She might have just bought it because it looked cool, Yi-seo thought. Maybe her actual skill level was similar to hers?

If so, they could learn from each other and improve together. And maybe even form the band she’d always dreamed of? Excited by the thought, Yi-seo asked,

“I’m going to the practice room. Want to come?”

“…Together? Why?”

A blunt question, implying, Why should I go with you?

“Well, uh, don’t you practice?”

“I do. At home.”

“Isn’t it frustrating practicing at home? You can’t play loud.”

“That’s true.”

Myeong-jeon’s old apartment had been equipped with a soundproof booth for practice. He’d practice with headphones late at night. But now, with only a single amp, it wasn’t ideal.

“That’s why I’m asking you to come. Isn’t it boring practicing alone at home? Wouldn’t it be more fun together?”

“Why does practice need to be fun?”

Yi-seo was speechless. Was… was she serious? Su-yeon’s expression was too serious for it to be a joke.

“You shouldn’t seek fun in practice. Practice is just something you do. It’s not about whether it’s fun or not.”

“But… it should be at least a little fun…”

“Don’t try to assign meaning to it. Practice should be like breathing. It should become…”

Su-yeon’s demeanor suddenly changed, and she launched into a serious lecture on her practice philosophy. Then she shook her head and continued,

“Well, um… you know what? Let’s go.”

“…Huh? Oh, okay! Then it’s here…”

Flustered by Su-yeon’s sudden change in attitude, Yi-seo tried to send her a link to the practice room on a map app… then realized she didn’t have her contact information. But Su-yeon calmly gave her her number.

The practice room was ordinary. A guitar amp, a bass amp, a computer… a futon, for some reason. Even a small refrigerator.

“It’s my instructor’s practice room. He lets me use it when he’s not here. Today’s my day.”

Yi-seo, sensing his curiosity, explained the origin of the room. An Ampeg bass amp, a Fender guitar amp, and Genelec studio monitors. A decent setup.

Feeling Yi-seo’s gaze on him, Myeong-jeon opened his guitar case.

“Wow, it really is a Fender.”

Yi-seo murmured, impressed by his black guitar. Well, this guitar was impressive.

He stroked the guitar. He’d put a lot of effort into the natural relic (Reference 1) finish.

“What year is it?”

“Um… ‘69… it’s complicated.”

Myeong-jeon plugged the guitar into the amp and strummed a few chords. The clean tone, while not as good as his full setup, was quite satisfying. They said tone was 70% amp and 30% guitar, but a good guitar could definitely make up for some of that 30%.

“Su-yeon, can you play me a song? Anything.”

Just as he was about to start practicing, he heard the voice from beside him.

“Why?”

“Well… to be honest, I’m curious about how well you play.”

Was that the reason? Myeong-jeon scratched his head. She was curious about his skills? He hadn’t heard that in decades, so he wasn’t sure how to respond. Even those who’d lectured and criticized him never questioned his playing ability.

But Yi-seo interpreted his silence differently.

…Is she mad?

She realized that asking someone to play out of the blue could be offensive. She’d invited her to the practice room uninvited, and now she was demanding a performance. Su-yeon’s expression did look rather annoyed…

“I-I-I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it! Uh, here, I’ll play something first!”

“Huh?”

Yi-seo frantically plugged her bass into the amp and started playing. She put on a show, nodding her head, tapping her foot…

Glancing at Myeong-jeon as she played, it seemed she was expecting some kind of reaction.

“So? I’ve been playing for… about eight months.”

“Eight months? For eight months…”

“For eight months?”

“…You’re not very good.”

Myeong-jeon blurted it out without thinking. Yi-seo stared at him, wide-eyed.

“N-Not good?”

At her slightly trembling voice, Myeong-jeon looked at Yi-seo. Come to think of it…

“You said you play for fun, right?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s a hobby.”

Myeong-jeon recalled the bassists he’d known in his previous life. They were all incredibly skilled. Was it unfair to compare her to them? They were already accomplished musicians, and she wasn’t.

“Then you’re average. Slightly above average, maybe? For eight months, this is… decent. It’ll be difficult to become a professional, though. Maybe if you practice a lot more, you’ll have a chance.”

Yi-seo, suddenly on the receiving end of an evaluation, felt a strange mix of emotions. Mostly negative. He’d said she wasn’t good, then average, then that she had no chance of becoming a professional?

“Your turn. I played for you. Now you have to play for me.”

“We’re in a practice room, shouldn’t you be playing anyway?”

Myeong-jeon replied, slightly baffled. Yi-seo felt a little embarrassed. He had a point…

“What… what can you play?”

“Almost anything. As long as it has guitar.”

“Almost anything?”

“I think I can play any famous song you can think of.”

One of his practice methods was to play every song with guitar at least once or twice. Of course, the world was vast, and he couldn’t possibly play everything, but he could play any song a high school girl would know.

“Can you play Kessoku Band – Hitori Bocchi no Aogeba?”

“…What’s that?”

Yi-seo’s face lit up as she suddenly blurted out the Japanese title. Myeong-jeon tilted his head, having never heard of the song.

“It’s from an… anime… never mind. It’s a Japanese song… um… how about Korogaru Iwa, Kimi ni Asa ga Furu?”

“An Asian Kung-Fu Generation song? It’s a good song. It’s over ten years old, you know that?”

He occasionally played that song, as the intro was quite memorable. It was a good song. Except for the fact that it was by a Japanese band. The fact that she asked for an older song meant she had a good attitude as a musician, actively seeking out music.

“No, no, it’s… just play whatever you want.”

Yi-seo said, blushing slightly. Myeong-jeon didn’t ask why.

Instead, he decided to play the song he always played when asked, “Play us something.”

A pure clean tone, without touching the amp’s volume or any effects. The soft, delicate notes from his fingerpicking (Reference 3) formed a lyrical melody that filled the practice room.

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

The song was originally written for Stevie Ray Vaughan, a guitarist who was close to Eric Clapton. Stevie Ray Vaughan died in a helicopter crash after Clapton gave up his seat on the helicopter for him.

Eric Clapton wrote this song to mourn his close friend. A few months later, Clapton’s four-year-old son fell from a building window.

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

Myeong-jeon always thought about this when he played the song. What was Clapton thinking when he wrote it? And what did he think when he played it?

I must be strong
And carry on
‘Cause I know, I don’t belong
Here in heaven

‘Is she really my age?’

Choi Yi-seo wondered.

Ha Su-yeon was definitely the same age as her. Sixteen. A high school student. As far as she knew, Su-yeon had never played music. But her performance now was… so mature.

Beyond the door
There’s peace, I’m sure
And I know there’ll be no more
Tears in heaven

Su-yeon sang, head slightly bowed, her fingers plucking the strings. Only the slightest movements, swaying to the melody, animated her body.

Yi-seo didn’t know the song. The English lyrics were hard to understand.

But she knew it was a sad song.

‘Cause I know, I don’t belong
Here in heaven

A slightly subdued voice. A vocalization that seemed to be striving for composure.

But the guitar wasn’t subdued.

Amidst the gentle melody, Yi-seo felt as though she could see cracks forming. A howling pain resided within the tune. A constantly screaming sadness vibrated through the notes, subtly shaking the melody.

Thus, proving the existence of the unexpressed emotions.

‘Cause I know, I don’t belong
Here in heaven

Myeong-jeon finished the song, gently letting the melody fade. He looked up and saw Yi-seo’s teary eyes.

“Let’s form a band.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s form a band!”

…A band?