Sample Clear (4): Highball Heartache
Yu Jeuni stumbled into the studio clutching a plastic convenience store bag. Inside were highballs. For reference, in this regressed timeline, you could get a plastic bag at the convenience store for just 20 won—no need for those pay-per-use bags. A truly good era to live in. I could never forgive the eco-warriors pushing paper straws.
Jeuni staggered around looking for a chair. "Mind if I sit for a bit?"
"You've been drinking again."
"I always drink...."
"?"
But the bag looked pretty heavy. Do people normally carry booze around like that? He figured she might've grabbed some snacks too, but nope—it was all alcohol.
"No way, you drink all that in one day? Out on the street?"
"Convenience store discount.... Four cans for 10,000 won...."
Three cans stuffed full of lemon highball. One was already empty.
Jeuni flopped onto the studio sofa, naturally pulling the black fluffy cushion into her arms and hugging it tight.
A sleek modern studio with perfect soundproofing. A landmine-style alcoholic beauty hugging a cushion on the sofa—twin tails, gothic lolita dress, and stockings. The more you look, the more violently alluring she seems.
Why has my cozy studio turned so decadent? No, how did my comfortable workspace end up like this? Being around her feels like it'll wreck my mental health and daily routine. Objectively, she's cute, but thinking that way feels like losing.
Meanwhile, Kang Saero couldn't take her eyes off Yu Jeuni for a second—what was she thinking? No matter how you sliced it, it wasn't just fan admiration. More like she wanted to cherish and care for something incredibly precious and adorable.
Saero approached demurely, uncharacteristically gentle. "Um, Jeuni-unnie, want some water?"
Ah.
Motherly instincts? Not sure. Weren't they like seven years apart?
"You can call me unnie, you know. 'Jeuni-nim' feels awkward."
"Whoa, really?"
Neon Blue diehard fan Kang Saero melted into emotion, words spilling out.
"Unnie, I'm a huge fan."
"Uh...."
"I got into music because of you."
"Ah."
Jeuni looked awkward, a mix of emotions crossing her face. Makes sense—she was the one talking about quitting music.
Gulp, gulp. Like a baby bird, tiny precious menhera Jeuni chugged the water Saero handed her.
Then came the moment to get feedback on the track. I stepped up to the laptop and hit the spacebar. The 808 bass rumbled heavily across the floor, layered with Jeuni's reprocessed guitar loop shimmering like a dream.
On top of that, I added the melody to lead the song—technically called the topline—by hitting the keyboard keys.
"Heee...."
Jeuni clutched the black fluffy cushion tight and buried her face in it. As the song hit its climax in the back half, her grip on the cushion tightened visibly.
Hate to admit it, but damn, it's hot. Weirder still was Saero's gaze on Jeuni. I'd been focused on the track and keys, but Saero had nothing to do at this stage. She'd scored full-time viewing rights to her idol, Neon Blue's genius composer Yu Jeuni. Saero's face was red to her ears—same reaction as me.
After the full listen, Jeuni lingered in the afterglow. Then, in a shocked voice, she blurted her verdict.
"Wait, that wasn't improv?"
"I roughed out the topline too."
"What the hell, you. Why are you so diligent?"
I thought it was just hype at first. But she seemed genuinely stunned.
"Listen, you...."
Jeuni crawled on all fours across the sofa and got right in my face.
"You're the type of composer who shouldn't be diligent. It's impossible."
What the hell did that mean?
Meanwhile, she reached for the bag. "Hey, Seryeon. Mind if I drink?"
Her booze-hazed, glassy eyes sparkled only at times like this. I pondered. Clean refusal? Or play along?
Saero shot me a look from the side. Stop her. Unnie needs to quit drinking. Something like that. But I saw it differently. Not 3D, strategically.
I pointed at the rolling lemon highball cans in the bag. "Sis, how many have you had so far?"
"One."
"Your usual limit?"
"Two... but force three. No, four. Can't carry four cans from the store forever, so I just finish 'em outside."
"Pardon?"
Even I'd struggle with four. Jeuni grinned triumphantly.
"I hold my liquor great."
"You won't pass out on the street?"
"Not the worst.... It's summer, so lying down's fine. Yeah."
Where does all that alcohol go in that tiny body? Anyway, if she handles it well, one more can's okay.
"Just enough not to black out."
"Hee. Sweet."
Saero's eyes went wide, making an X with her fingers, but this was my strategy. No one greenlights sampling like a happily buzzed original artist. Time for honest feedback, Neon Blue stories, and clearance.
Tsssk—fresh highball can opening.
"And a bit more specific feedback."
"Got it."
Jeuni sipped, then scanned the sound waveform on the monitor with pro-level eyes.
"Sample comprehension's high. You turned the original's suffocating sadness into a dreamy vibe perfectly. Sound texture's pro-level. Song structure's surprisingly textbook solid."
Sharp analysis even buzzed and drowsy. But one thing left to hear.
"So what was that about not being diligent?"
Gulp, gulp. The can hovered, then dropped. Ahh.
"I know people with talent like this."
"All lazy as hell."
"Sensitive souls, mostly mentally shattered, so that's why. But your talent's got that same vibe."
Jeuni poked my chest with a finger, grinning smugly like she'd spilled a secret only she knew.
"That's why it's wild. Having that sensitivity's nuts, and staying unbroken and diligent? Double nuts."
"The polish on the result screams effort."
"That's the massive strength of artist Kim Seryeon."
Her words hit like arrows. Something clicked. Back in my apathetic days. Life round one. If asked if I liked composing? "Least bad" was honest. Too drained mentally—lie staring at the ceiling or barely get up to compose. Life boiled down to those two. Lying there felt like the world crushing me. Composing was the one semi-fun thing, so I did it.
I used to force tracks out back then.
Now? Different. Habitual, routine. Auditions, self-releasing—more possible. Creation's joy feels vivid. Way more than before. Maybe talent wasn't the issue in round one....
Lost in thought, Jeuni's voice pierced: one word.
"Guitar."
"Ah, yeah. Here."
"Nah. Keep it."
"Huh?"
"Told you. Quitting music."
Not just me—Saero stared too. Shell pink rare custom model. A guitarist's lifeline.
"Like a parting straw hat or something?"
"Straw hat, not close hat."
Saero corrected amid panic, but irrelevant.
"Carry Neon Blue's Yu Jeuni's will?"
"Kinda."
Jeuni's voice was calm. Face, eyes too.
"I thought we had similar vibes too. The emotions, direction."
"But mine's truly broken now."
If even this conveys sadness, what's raging inside? She chugged big, set it down like she'd shed all burdens. Then smiled.
"Can't do it."
I couldn't hold her. But Saero wanted to.
"Unnie, you really can't quit?"
"Not like you never got recognition—charted at the end, did great."
"Bands blow up all the time. Your skill's too good to waste."
"......Not that good."
"Neon Blue's producer not good? What is then?"
Jeuni clutched her highball, declarative.
"Nah. Tons like me."
"No way."
"Just pretty, rich, lucky."
"That's—"
Sudden rage at posers. Saero lost words in mixed feelings as Jeuni drove the wedge.
"I can live fine without music."
True enough. Could've ended okay. But Jeuni's resolve wasn't ironclad. Tears welled already.
"For real...."
The menhera started crying.
"Scared.... Can't do more...."
The black fluffy cushion in her arms squished flat.
Just gift her the cushion? She loves it.
"How to keep going...."
Mom-mode Saero sighed, tending her.
"See? Already like this—how you gonna live fine?"
Caterpillars eat mulberry leaves. Long-term creative work irreversibly fries the brain—no normal job after.
"Seryeon. Got a handkerchief?"
"Nope."
Grabbed tissues instead. Sniffling Jeuni looked up, suddenly smirking slyly.
"Heh."
"?"
"You use these for other stuff, right?"
"In the studio?"
"......"
Why no answer?