Closing the Band, Studio Scattered (2)
Seoul city overflowed with massive risk factors. Even Gangnam wasn't safe—historically, the cops there were real hardasses.
A weird woman was standing in front of my door, so I didn't waste a second and called the police right away.
"Yes. There's an unknown woman knocking on the door."
Beep beep beep!
"Yeah, she seems pretty drunk."
Beep beep beep beep!
The woman kept pressing the door lock button. She must be seriously wasted.
"She's trying to open the door lock nonstop right now. What should I do?"
But no dice. I'd changed the door code the moment I moved in. It was a huge hassle, but I'd taken Kang Saero's advice—and it had probably just saved my life.
"Yeah, just in case, I've got the chain on too."
The chain was locked tight, and I was monitoring the situation live through the intercom.
Kim Seryeon, keeping real-time tabs on the scene.
"Description?"
"Uh, you know about landmine style? Ah, no? It's not actual explosives—it's a fashion thing named after landmines. Yeah, yeah."
"She's about 150 cm tall, but factoring in the heels, probably shorter. Mostly black clothes with frills and ribbons... Yeah, she's rocking twin tails in her mid-20s."
I carefully observed her appearance, describing it in detail. Was this some drunk asshole who'd wandered over, or a real psycho villain? I needed to assess the risk level internally.
Assessment item 1: Tattoos.
...None.
Surprisingly, her wrists were clean, and her nape was just pale skin.
Assessment item 2: Occupation. She had a guitar case on her back. No normal person would stumble around blackout drunk lugging a heavy guitar like that—it meant she was in music.
Landmine style plus band activity? Super risky combo. But there were other factors.
Rent here's expensive as hell.
A musician wandering Gangnam in broad daylight, with a guitar case that wasn't cheap hobbyist gear either.
That case alone costs more than casual play.
Maybe she was a somewhat known artist?
Or just a fashion menhera?
Either way, I couldn't open the door. Real crazies paradoxically succeed a lot, and they hide tattoos in discreet spots.
Scary.
I stepped back two paces from the door, waiting for the cops to arrive.
A patrol car soon crawled up the hill and parked in the alley. Two uniformed officers appeared, cautiously surrounding the woman.
But things didn't resolve smoothly.
She was protesting her innocence, arms grabbed by the cops.
"No, this is my house... Officers, this is my house, but the door won't open. It's weird..."
"Ma'am, please calm down. The reporter says this is his studio."
"No way! I handled the contract and interior myself!"
What the hell was she on about? Eventually, the police rang the intercom to get a clear picture and called me out.
"Excuse me, reporter? Could you come out for a sec?"
Showing my face to someone like that creeped me out, but they were the law. I couldn't pull some hip-hop "fuck the police" stunt, so I went out.
Kim Seryeon finally emerged.
Unexpectedly, the officers recognized me immediately.
"Oh."
"Hey, you're Kim Seryeon, right? From the broadcast."
As expected of Star's Birth. The hot topic show crossing all generations.
"Yes."
I gave a short reply, then explained the whole story to the officer.
"I signed a formal contract for this studio through a realtor a few days ago. She seems like the previous tenant—must be some mix-up."
"Ah, got it."
The officer looked awkwardly down at her.
"Ma'am, he says you moved out. This isn't your place anymore."
"Hweeng..."
She looked up at me, her glassy eyes struggling to focus before she started sniffling.
"Ah... right... I quit music..."
She rambled incoherently.
"Band blew up... Vocalist ghosted overnight... So I decided to quit music, but now I got nowhere to go..."
"Aigoo."
The touching backstory and voice drew a sigh from the officer. I listened quietly, then asked,
"What band was it?"
"Neon Blue! We even did Music Stage!"
"Really?"
I knew them too well—chills down my spine. The hottest modern rock band in the indie scene lately. Critical acclaim from critics and fans, a reverse-run chart miracle last year turning them mainstream. They were on the verge of major debut.
One of the bands I'd dug into while researching late-2010s band-rock trends during Bless production. Musically different, so nothing made it in, but damn good band.
"Wait, you're Yu Jeuni?"
Like catching up on celeb gossip, Neon Blue's guitarist Yu Jeuni nodded.
"Yes."
"You didn't dress like that back then."
"'Cause we were hot shit then. Now we're busted, so I'm losing it."
"Ah."
Couldn't argue. Her looking actually unhinged made it more convincing.
"Jeez."
"Tsk tsk."
The officers sighed, gently helping her up with softer grips.
"Let's head to the station first. Causing a scene here's business interference."
"My guitar... hweee..."
"Yeah yeah, we'll grab your guitar. Come on."
Limp as a ragdoll, she let the officers support her to the patrol car.
Neon Blue broke up?
No news articles I recalled—must be recent. The realtor lady and Kang Saero's words popped up. This studio had killer soundproofing. Previous tenant was a musician who'd poured a fortune into it.
She did it.
A space she'd poured everything into for her dreams. But failure hit, she got evicted, and now drunk, pounding the door again.
Feels too real.
I'd been a failed composer in my past life too. Without regression's miracle, I might've ended up wandering like that someday.
Hm.
I pulled out my smartphone.
TooWiki: The Wiki That Knows Too Much
Tap tap.
Neon Blue
Members: Han Jiyu (vocals), Yu Jeuni* (guitar/composition), Seo Minsu (bass), Kim Dohyung (drums), Sion (keys)
* (leader)
Representative Songs: Tears of Courage, Poison
Band Members 2. Yu Jeuni (1995)
"......"
Late 2010s now, so her age? Even if I'd flopped, I wouldn't be mid-20s twin tails, menhera fashion, blackout drunk banging on strangers' doors. Scary person for real.
— Rumors say vocalist Han Jiyu did a midnight runner(?), leading to indefinite hiatus (link: insider SNS).
Verify facts and add evidence before editing.
I stood there long after the patrol car left the alley. The summer night air felt oppressively thick.
Back in the studio, I sat down again. Planned to trim test tracks, work on personal projects, then head home—but then something wild happened.
The notepad's vibe was off—like past-life menhera Kim Seryeon was back.
Diving in at max immersion for composing, even wilder shit went down.
What? Why's this flowing so well?
Those moments when creating and you just know.
This part rips.
Am I a genius?
Damn, even I think this slaps.
I call these black pearl moments, and they kept popping. Like my inner darkness got refilled.
Meeting real madness must've triggered it. Made me think—if no regression, would I be a bum? That shock therapy worked.
— No regression? I'd be trash.
— Success? Just luck.
— Give others my regression and looks? They'd crush me.
This fresh darkness was juicy. Overcoming or refuting it? That's my drive, the music I gotta chase forever.
I wanna compose for real.
Why not day-trade stocks or crypto for easy life? Reasons.
I suck at stocks and coins.
Past life: zero stock knowledge, rotting in my room rewatching anime.
Lately too mentally healthy—time for more menhera fuel?
Brief thought, but too cringy—nixed.
Then a text buzzed in.
Bzzz-
Who uses regular SMS anymore? KakaoTalk or Insta DMs only. It was Gangnam Police Station Life Safety Division.
— Notice re: your report.
— Officer from scene. Even if suspect (Yu Jeuni)'s actions weren't ongoing/repeated, considering victim (Kim Seryeon) is a public figure, Stalking Punishment Law may apply.
— Contacting to confirm if you want charges under Act on Punishment of Stalking Crimes.
— If you do NOT want punishment...
"......"
Scrolling the text, I stopped at one point.
Stalking Punishment Law. The vibe shifted heavy. Thought it'd end as drunk ex-tenant hijinks, but my fame was the twist.
Pounding a celeb's residence (studio, technically)? Super sensitive in today's climate. Cops preemptively tough to avoid blowback—fair.
But jail? Nah.
She's Neon Blue's guitarist Yu Jeuni. Liked some tracks; jailing her would bug me. Even if mid-20s twin tails landmine now, banging doors.
No. Especially sad because of it.
Is she really broken?
Quiet types crack visibly at dead ends. Flaunting landmine fashion like that? Mind shattered?
Heart sank.
No home, no money, evicted—and now detained? Han River jump easy.
No choice. Bail her out.
I sighed, left the studio.
Station dead quiet—daytime drunks rare.
Hat low, entered, spotted black lump sprawled on corner bench.
"Uuum..."
Yu Jeuni slept oblivious. Looked like a discarded goth loli doll.
Approached duty officer, politely stated intent.
"Ah, Kim Seryeon?"
"Yes. Thanks for handling."
Quick greet, then no-punishment stance.
"Still don't want punishment. Like I said, ex-tenant mix-up. No stalking intent."
"You sure? World's rough lately."
"Yes. I know her. Just treat as mishap."
Signed no-prosecution form; officers visibly relieved. Famous case, followed protocol, but no desire to escalate.
"Wake up. Victim doesn't want charges, so ma'am, head home."
"Ugh... no pun... ish...?"
Shaken awake, she blinked groggily.
"Yes. Sober up and go quietly."
Banished from station, she wobbled out like newborn foal; I followed.
Summer evening now dusky, sunset fading. Nap sobered her a bit—she flailed arm.
"I'm going... let go..."
Wasn't even holding—why freak? Still, morally worried, asked,
"Got a place? Said no home."
She froze, slowly turned, glaring.
Streetlight revealed tragic face: smudged makeup, red eyes.
"Who said no home?"
"Told cops—evicted, nowhere."
"Dropped studio contract—not homeless."
"Huh?"
"Got a house. In Apgujeong."
No way—house in Apgujeong?