Drums

Yuseoha is seventeen years old and a second-year high school student.

She's short, but her face is decent enough. She herself thinks she has a bad personality. She doesn't have many friends, and her relationships with her classmates aren't good either. She has no interest in academics, either.

Aside from a few friends she played with as a child, most of her relationships are centered around the music scene. Practicing together and forming bands. Judging which music is good and which is bad. Staying up all night singing about youth and ruminating over how fucking shitty reality is.

And Yuseoha is a drummer.

That's how she defined herself. I'm a drummer. I'm someone who wants to make music. She hadn't thought much beyond that. She had a hedonistic sort of mindset: somehow, things would work out as she went through life.

But there was no one she could make music with. Everyone at a level worth playing with was already in a band or simply unappealing. The ones left were either lacking in skill or unappealing. In any case, something about them was off—whether their ears or their eyes—or she simply didn't like them.

[Jeong Hyuna : So you need to come help us]

[Horang : Why me?]

[Horang : What’s the point of forming a band with a bunch of high school kids?]

[Horang : In the end, it’d just be a hobby for all of you]

[Horang : And your skills would all be about the same]

[Jeong Hyuna : I told you, that’s not it]

[Jeong Hyuna : The guitarist is freaking insane;; Like a god]

[Jeong Hyuna : She’s completely crazy.]

[Jeong Hyuna : Want me to at least send you the link?]

[Horang : If she’s that good, she’d be a pro already]

[Horang : And wasn’t she not even interested in forming a band to begin with?]

[Horang : Besides, unless it’s a raw live performance, you can fix anything with editing. Anyone can look good that way]

[Jeong Hyuna : You son of a bitch]

[Jeong Hyuna : I make music too, you know. You think I don’t know that?]

[Horang : What the hell lol]

[Horang : Go play the piano]

Watching the open chat go back and forth, Seoha sighed.

A childhood friend? Well, anyway, a friend since childhood—an internet friend, at least—who these days was holed up in a room watching manga and anime.

They had kept in touch, but lately their conversations had grown sparse… and now this was what they had suddenly reached out to say?

[Jeong Hyuna : Didn’t you say you wanted to be in a band?]

[Horang : That was a long time ago]

Seoha sighed. Should she start cutting ties with this kid too? In the end, was this also a relationship based on profit? Was that what it meant?

[Horang : When should I come?]

[Jeong Hyuna : Oh]

[Jeong Hyuna : When are you free? We’ll work around you]

[Horang : I can do weekends]

[Horang : Other than that, I have to work part-time]

[Horang : I’ll check my schedule and let you know]

[Jeong Hyuna : Arigatou gozaimasu ㅜㅜㅜ]

For now, she would go along with it. They had been friends for a long time, after all. But this would be the end of it. There would be nothing after this. The moment you started weighing profit and loss in a friendship, the whole thing became meaningless.

Let’s put an end to these trivial relationships.

In the end, friendship wasn't decided by whether you'd known someone for a long time or not. It was decided by how well you clicked and how well you could understand each other.

In that respect, Yuseoha thought there were very few people who could understand her.

There were few people who were as good at music as she was and took music as seriously. She only needed to take those people with her. True kindred spirits.

That was enough.

In this age of advanced social media, Yuseoha smiled bitterly at the thought—a thought even a middle school sophomore wouldn't have entertained anymore.

* * *

The weekend.

For a rehearsal impossible to hold at Choi Iseo's practice room, they rented a rehearsal studio near Hongdae. It had a basic keyboard and drum kit, so they only needed to bring the guitar and bass.

The problem was what Jeong Hyuna had told him: the drummer seemed to be acting a little strange.

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : Something feels kinda weird]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : You know that feeling when someone keeps subtly giving off negative vibes]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : You know what I mean]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : Do you think she’s trying to back out????]

The song for the rehearsal had been decided. What was it called again? They said it was some Japanese anime band song. After playing it a few times and roughly memorizing it, Myeongjeon had forgotten the song. He would probably remember it once he started playing.

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : She was making such a fuss about desperately wanting to be in a band before]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : But when I contacted her this time, she said she’d decide after seeing everyone’s skill level or something;;; This is troublesome]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : It feels like she’s just looking for faults now]

As Myeongjeon remembered it, she had initially boasted confidently that she could definitely bring the drummer in. So she'd turned out to be negative after all?

[SwordMasta : Had she even said she wanted to rehearse together before?]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : Not at all;;;]

[Seibin (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) : She kept saying they had to see everyone’s raw skill first, so she wouldn’t even choose a rehearsal song;; I forced her to pick one somehow]

‘What a quintessential high schooler’s way of thinking…’

Myeongjeon laughed, dumbfounded.

‘Raw skill’ and the like did not exist. Even the countless classical prodigies did not suddenly receive inspiration the moment they saw a score and play it perfectly—ba-ba-ba-bam! They practiced until they could play it. Nothing in this world could be done without practice.

If even those so-called geniuses were like that—and the ‘genius’ Myeongjeon was no exception—what about ordinary people who simply played instruments?

To Myeongjeon, it looked like she wanted to refuse because she simply didn't like something and was making up an excuse.

Well, if she really didn't want to, there was nothing he could do. They would just have to find another drummer. Or they could bring in someone half-baked and train them.

In the long run, Myeongjeon thought, that might actually be the better approach.

Someone who could play drums for the band sound without any half-assed personal quirks. Six to eight months of training should be enough to shape someone into that.

…If it came to that, there was no reason for Myeongjeon to work with these kids anymore. He could simply form a band himself.

‘That’s a very fundamental question…’

Myeongjeon shook his head and banished the thought. Anyway, they would see. Was this a kid who actually had the right to judge others based on ‘raw skill,’ or not?

No matter how much the kids had pushed him into starting a band, this was ultimately a band formed by his own choice.

He would see whether she had the nerve to reject his kids while throwing around words like that.

“Suyeon!”

Eventually, a voice reached him. Choi Iseo and Jeong Hyuna were standing behind him. As always, Choi Iseo wore slightly heavy makeup, while Jeong Hyuna stood behind her, fidgety and unlike her online self.

“When did you get here?”

“Just now. Hello.”

“Ah, yes… hel-lo.”

“Let’s get inside. Didn’t you say the drummer was going to be late because something came up?”

“She said she’d be about thirty minutes late…”

“That’s quite a while~ Want to play a little beforehand?”

They entered the rehearsal studio, making pointless small talk. It was nothing special. There were drums and a keyboard. The amp was a Marshall stack. But since he had brought his own amp head, he didn't really need anything else.

He casually tapped the drums a few times and struck the cymbals. It was a fairly decent drum kit.

“But can we really rehearse as soon as we meet today? I did practice, but…”

“I’m not sure…”

“It’ll be difficult.”

At Myeongjeon’s words, everyone turned to look at him. Myeongjeon gave the drum a thump! and continued.

“To rehearse, you first have to know how to play your own part in the song. Once you know it, you match the tempo, and then you improve the performance.

In that sense, we might be able to play through the song, but under normal circumstances, it’ll be difficult to give a good performance. We even had to arrange what was originally the rhythm guitar part for keyboard.”

Iseo fell into thought at those words. Hyuna fidgeted uncertainly, then looked at Myeongjeon and spoke.

“Then…”

“Then? Well, I think… she was planning to refuse from the start.”

“What??”

“She said she’d judge after seeing our skill. And she’s good enough to receive offers from bands. But if the rehearsal doesn’t go properly, what could she possibly say about our skills?

She was probably planning to refuse by saying our timing didn’t match or that you couldn’t keep up with my skill or something. It’s a reasonable argument. Our skill levels are too mismatched for this to work. It’s not exactly something to get offended over.”

After hearing Myeongjeon, the mood sank slightly. Hyuna stood there nervously fidgeting with her hands, while Iseo dropped into a chair, unable to hide her dejected expression.

“So you’re saying the drummer was planning to refuse from the beginning? Just to screw us over?”

“I don’t think it was quite that malicious. That’s just a way to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings. She couldn’t break a promise she’d already made to a friend, but she couldn’t just say, ‘You guys and I don’t click~,’ either.

So maybe she thought that if she brought up the difference in skill, they’d accept it and move on.”

But Myeongjeon grinned.

The other two had no idea why Suyeon was smiling like that in this situation.

“Shouldn’t we make her regret it?”

“Regret it?”

The two echoed his question. As Myeongjeon took out his laptop and set it up, he spoke. It was the drum MIDI file he had recorded while practicing the song and sent to the kids.

“We need to make her think, ‘How dare I even think that? I absolutely have to join a band like this.’ Don’t you agree?”

For a young kid who ran wild without knowing how big the world was, shock therapy was sometimes necessary.

* * *

Seoha arrived at the rehearsal studio late. At this hour, what were they doing? Were they just practicing among themselves because there were no drums?

‘I thought they’d say they weren’t going to do this with me by now…’

No matter how determined she was, it wasn't easy to look them in the eye and say, ‘I don't want to do this with you.’ She had hoped they would drop out on their own.

It couldn't be helped.

‘At least things worked out like this.’

She could use their performance in the rehearsal as an excuse to say something like, ‘It’ll be difficult for me to work with you guys because of the difference in skill…’ Then they could naturally drift apart.

With that in mind, Seoha approached the assigned rehearsal room. As she drew closer, the sound of music began to reach her through the soundproofing.

And the moment she opened the door slightly, at the performance leaking out from inside…

Seoha felt a shock so intense it was as if her ears were going to go deaf.

The bass was… just ordinary.

No, it looked overwhelmed.

It felt like she was struggling to keep up while playing something beyond her ability. The sounds came out in a frantic rush, as if she were playing whack-a-mole rather than performing.

There were plenty of mistakes, too.

The keyboard was playing the arranged version of the rhythm guitar part.

There was a little technique in it, but nothing particularly showy, nor any part that called for it.

The drums were… MIDI.

‘It was barely enough to say there were drums.’

But what about the guitar?

Anyone who made music would know.

The special quality that could be felt in that performance.

Accuracy like a blade,

Impossible technique,

An incomprehensible depth of experience,

The feeling of absolute self-assurance.

The bass and rhythm keyboard underneath were clearly nothing special. No, the bass was below average. The drums that should have been her part had been replaced by MIDI, so they were merely at the level of ‘being there.’

And yet a single guitar was burying every one of those flaws. It was a performance that seemed to look down on the world—but one with every right to do so.

‘This isn’t how the song went.’

The song she had heard was merely an ordinary Japanese anime band song. Well made, but that was all. It hadn't been a song of this caliber.

If so, did that mean the performance pouring out now had been created entirely by that kid holding the guitar?

‘I want to play with her.’

She had already forgotten how she had felt when she came here. That sort of thing? It didn't matter. With that guitar, she could play forever.

‘Let’s say we want to play together. We’ll apologize for being late and rehearse. We’ll diligently practice together, form a band together, and leave our names behind through music.’

Yes. Seoha thought she understood why refusing their offer had felt so uncomfortable.

Her body had reacted instinctively for the sake of a meeting like this. To let her meet that guitar. For a fateful encounter.

However, Myeongjeon had known for several minutes that the rehearsal-room door was open. He also knew that the kid at the door was listening to his playing, utterly captivated.

That was why, the moment he finished playing… he could throw out the words he had prepared in advance.

“Our drummer… she seems kind of timid. Should we just find someone else? Someone other than her?”

He could see the rehearsal-room door twitch.