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Myeongjeon showed no reaction. More precisely, he was unable to show one. No, to be even more precise, he simply had nothing to say.

There was no helping it. In fact, it would have been strange for him to have anything to say. If someone told him, “Hey, that isn’t your guitar, but it looks like your guitar. Why are you holding it?” the best thing to do would be to think, “What the hell kind of crazy nonsense is that…?” and refuse to engage with them.

Of course, Myeongjeon was the only one who found that obvious. The other two didn’t know that Myeongjeon was Suyeon, and Suyeon was Myeongjeon.

“Huh?”

Instead of Suyeon, Hye-in asked as if she had no idea what he meant. Rather than answer, Junhong remained silent for a moment and looked at the guitar again.

‘The Black Strat. Completely different from the original Black Strat, simply aged in a natural way. The rubber grip on the tremolo arm has been replaced with metal, and the knobs are chrome-plated. Looking at it overall, this is definitely Mr. Myeongjeon’s guitar.’

A few years ago, Junhong had stayed at Myeongjeon’s house and handled his guitars several times. The guitar he had seen back then was exactly the same as the one he was holding now.

But how?

Why was this guitar here?

It wasn’t impossible...