Chapter 53
As an unexpected load came tumbling into the taxi, the driver frowned. Ignoring the old man grumbling under his breath, Myeongjeon got in and changed the destination. When the trip suddenly became a long-distance fare, the taxi driver’s attitude changed 180 degrees.
“But where are we going?”
“Gangnam.”
After briefly answering Iseo’s question, Myeongjeon called Ms. Lee Hyein. “Yes. Something came up, so I’m on my way to Gangnam. Yes. You’re coming to pick me up? I don’t think you need to. I’ll see you first and call you. Yes.”
“Mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She really takes good care of you~”
“It can be a little bothersome sometimes.”
At Myeongjeon’s grumbling, Iseo looked slightly flustered.
“Still, isn’t it a bit much to call it bothersome when she takes such good care of you and worries about you?”
“Being worried about and taken care of is something to be grateful for, and being bothered is being bothered. They’re different things.”
The taxi driver grumbled inwardly, What an ungrateful brat… But the two high school girls continued chatting.
“But I mean, she does it all because she’s worried.”
“Right. No one takes care of you as much as your mom does… I’m telling you, there aren’t many mothers like that. My mom doesn’t care at all. And my dad…”
Iseo stopped speaking mid-sentence. According to the rumors she had heard, Suyeon’s father had died when Suyeon was young. She did not know exactly when, though.
So talking about fathers in front of Suyeon was practically taboo. Suyeon could be a real pain in the ass herself, of course, but still, wasn’t it a little inappropriate to say things like that in front of someone whose family member had died?
But Suyeon’s expression remained unchanged. Even when Iseo looked closely, wondering whether she might be hiding sadness beneath that blank face, there did not seem to be any.
‘Is it because she lost her memories?’
‘Her father…’
Unlike Iseo, who was worried, Myeongjeon wasn’t particularly bothered. It was someone else’s father, after all. He had not been particularly close to his own father either—as was true of everyone from his generation—and he saw no reason to worry about the father of a girl whose body he had suddenly found himself in, especially since the man was already dead.
‘Even if I dug into this girl’s past, all I found were hazy memories.’
‘Looking back on Ha Suyeon’s childhood, it seemed to have been a fairly happy family. But after her father died, it had become a cold one. Was that why Ms. Lee Hyein and Ha Suyeon had grown apart?’
Well, it wasn’t that important. Myeongjeon thought it was merely something that had come to mind, something he could let pass.
* * *
“Nice to meet you. I’m Chae Hogeun, a professor at Hoin Arts College.”
“Hello. I’m Ha Suyeon, guitarist for Group Sound.”
“Ah… hello! I’m Choi Iseo, the bassist for Group Sound…”
At a studio somewhere in Gangnam, Junhong greeted Myeongjeon and Iseo and showed them inside. The room they entered was a rather old-fashioned office. An obstinate-looking old man peering at a computer welcomed them.
“All right. Sit, sit, everyone. You all know Lim Junhong here, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, I’m meeting him for the first time…”
At that, Myeongjeon looked at Iseo and raised one eyebrow. In a situation like this, you were supposed to say something like, Oh, yes, yes. No matter how sociable she tried to seem, she was still a child lacking life experience.
“Is that so? Then introduce yourself now, Junhong.”
“Ah, yes. I’m Lim Junhong, a session guitarist…”
A farce had broken out out of nowhere. Myeongjeon sighed inwardly. Iseo and Junhong awkwardly introduced themselves. Hogeun waited for them to finish, then opened his mouth the moment they did.
“I enjoyed your performance the other day, Miss Suyeon.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
“That Seo Myeongjeon fellow died so sadly. If I’d known his health was that poor, I should have at least contacted him.”
“Professor Hogeun, were you close to Teacher Myeongjeon?”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
At Junhong’s question, Hogeun looked at him and spoke. Junhong shook his head as if to say he absolutely had not.
“Myeongjeon and I… well, it wouldn’t be quite right to call it a close friendship. We met often for work, and outside of that, perhaps a few times over drinks?”
Myeongjeon remembered it similarly. Even the few times they had shared drinks, he did not recall talking much; they had mostly been connected through work. He had done a lot of session work on Myeongjeon’s solo albums, that was all.
“What did you think of Teacher Myeongjeon?”
“Uh… well, with someone directly involved here, it’s a little difficult to say.”
Junhong’s question had come out of nowhere, and Hogeun looked quite uncomfortable. But before Junhong could withdraw the question, Myeongjeon spoke first.
“I’m fine with it, so please go ahead. I’m… curious about Teacher Myeongjeon’s reputation too.”
“Is that so? Well, it’s not as if I have anything bad to say, so I suppose I can. His guitar playing was second to none… but everyone already knows that. It probably won’t mean much. If I had to describe how I saw Myeongjeon, I’d say he seemed… trapped in his own world.”
Hogeun took a small sip of coffee, then spoke.
“How should I put it? Whenever I talked with him, he was extremely well versed in the latest trends. He was quick to absorb things, too. But when it came to writing or creating his own songs, he couldn’t go any further than that.”
“In that sense, the song Miss Suyeon played for us this time was… quite excellent, even if she did have a hand in it. If he had been capable of writing a song like that, he might have lived longer and made quite a few good albums.”
Anyway, that wasn’t what he had called them here to talk about. Hogeun muttered this, then looked at Suyeon and spoke.
“As you’ve probably heard from Junhong, I asked you to come today because I heard Miss Suyeon was collecting Myeongjeon’s equipment. I bought this secondhand a little while ago.”
What he placed on the table was a Binson Echorec 2—the echo unit David Gilmour used while recording The Dark Side of the Moon, the legendary album that ranks second in worldwide record sales and first in rock album sales.
Of course, David Gilmour also changed his equipment after 1977, and later used a delay effect closer to a reproduction of the Echorec… but Myeongjeon’s main tone was aimed at David Gilmour in the 1970s, so this was one piece of equipment he absolutely had to collect.
“How did I know it was Myeongjeon’s? If you look here, he wrote his name inside for some reason. Was it to keep it from being stolen?”
‘Did I?’
Myeongjeon was already certain it was his equipment from the other details—for instance, the traces of modifications and repairs, which he had done himself. But had he really done that?
Come to think of it, he seemed to remember doing so. Myeongjeon searched his memories. He had probably written it there to catch anyone who might steal it and pretend it had belonged to them all along.
“I originally bought it just for my collection, but I thought it would be a waste to leave it sitting around as a mere collectible. Effects are made to be used, after all. Since we met this time, I thought I’d give it to Miss Suyeon as a gift for a promising guitarist.”
It was a little early to celebrate. Myeongjeon focused on the final sentence. “I’m thinking of giving it to you” and “I’ll give it to you” were clearly different things.
“You’re thinking of giving it to me…?”
“If you’re looking for this, you know it isn’t something that costs just a few pennies.”
At Junhong’s words, Hogeun answered. Of course, it was not exactly an amount one could casually offer to someone. As Myeongjeon was thinking that, Iseo poked him.
“How much is that?”
“I don’t know what he paid for it, but secondhand, it goes for several million won.”
“That much?”
Iseo whispered, and Myeongjeon whispered back. She was aghast at the unexpected price. But it was a perfectly plausible price, wasn’t it? A unique, irreplaceable object made in the 1970s for a specific purpose that still worked in 2024? What wouldn’t be expensive?
“First, let me ask Student Suyeon. I paid six million won for this. I’ll cover two million, so could you pay around four million?”
“Um… that’s impossible.”
Myeongjeon thought of the Fender Telecaster he had recently bought directly from Japan. He had bought it partly as a toy; if he had not bought that guitar, he could have paid the full amount right now.
“Well, that’s only natural. There’s no way a student would have four million won. Then here’s my second proposal: would you consider entering Hoin Arts College? If you did, I could give you an effects unit like this right away.”
“No. Not at all.”
At Myeongjeon’s firm answer, Junhong’s face stiffened slightly. Even so, Hogeun wore an expression suggesting he had expected to be refused.
“Well, I’m only bringing it up. As an educator, I can’t help wanting students of my own… Then how about this? Would you play guitar on my album as a session musician?”
* * *
The payment for the effects unit seemed to have been settled roughly along those lines. Suyeon would provide guitar sessions on every track of Professor Chae Hogeun’s album, and receive part of the outsourcing fee in the form of the effects unit.
‘It’s a profitable deal.’
Professor Chae Hogeun still had a name worth something, at least. Providing full sessions for his album would mean money, of course, but it would also help Suyeon make a name for herself little by little as a guitarist.
“And Junhong told me you were participating in that band… what was it? A support program?”
“Yes.”
Myeongjeon wondered how something he had casually mentioned to Junhong had already spread that far. That man really did like passing things along.
“I know because I’ve served as a judge for other programs, too… Things run like competitions do tend to bring interesting developments.”
Hogeun recalled the past. How many underhanded struggles had there been before, all to win that one tiny opportunity? Some had been honorable, and some had not.
“It’s small-scale and government-run, so I don’t expect that sort of thing… but either way, since the bands will be competing against one another, you should steel yourselves. Besides your band, some talented young people have entered as well. And I heard that, from what happened before, you’ve had some unpleasant personal issues, Miss Suyeon?”
“Ah, yes. I’m reflecting on it.”
“You’d better be careful. When money is involved, you never know what might happen.”
Hogeun brought his remarks to an end.
‘Well, we’re somewhat prepared already.’
Myeongjeon thought so. If everything fell into place, it was a plan that could produce quite satisfactory results.
“Can I play now?”
While Myeongjeon was thinking, Iseo finished preparing to perform. Thanks to Hogeun asking, “Does the student who came with you play bass?” Iseo suddenly found herself about to play bass in front of an arts college professor.
“Go ahead and play now. Choose a song you’re confident in.”
At Hogeun’s words, Iseo began plucking away at the bass. After playing for several minutes, she finished the song, and Hogeun asked her a question.
“Hmm… You haven’t been playing long, have you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. Your playing is still rough, and some notes are sticking out. The unusual thing is that some parts are neat, as if someone had singled them out and instructed you on them, while other parts stick out.”
Hogeun assessed Iseo’s playing. Hearing the assessment, Iseo glanced at Suyeon.
‘She doesn’t look like she’s thinking about anything.’
“Still, you seem to have talent. Are you taking lessons?”
“I stopped recently. It’s a long story…”
“You said you live in Jongno-gu, right? Give this person a call. One of my students lives nearby, and they’re quite good at bass.”
Hogeun handed Iseo a business card. What was this supposed to be…? Iseo accepted it with mixed feelings and slipped it into her pocket, hiding her slight displeasure.
‘This isn’t an advertisement, is it…?’
“Anyway, I hope Band Pioneer does well. As for the album recording, I’ll contact you once the schedule is set.”
Leaving Iseo to her rather impudent thoughts, Myeongjeon nodded at Hogeun’s parting words. He had taken a few days off, so now it was time to start running again.