Guided by the Mysterious Algorithm
The very first video that the mysterious algorithm, whose principles were utterly incomprehensible, guided the live session toward was a shorts clip of street busking.
The content was nothing special. Just one high school girl and two guys performing old rock on the street. For busking, it was pretty good—that was the extent of the impression.
The second video came up when she searched "Seo Myeongjeon Memorial Performance Ha Suyeon." It featured Ha Suyeon performing Eric Clapton's Tearing Us Apart.
She's good.
Unlike the first one, this video was actually quite watchable. A rhythmic take on a classic masterpiece. Not just blindly following the original, but creating something beyond it. The solo part, in particular, felt incredibly lively even to Jeonghwa's ears. It transcended mere "cool playing," "good playing," or "fast playing"—a solo that lifted the listener's mood itself. She wondered what it would have been like to hear it live in person, rather than a phone recording.
But there are plenty of people at this level in the world.
Jeonghwa shook her head to dismiss the thought. An inexplicable surge of defiance. A strange reluctance to acknowledge this girl.
Harboring that vague feeling, Jeonghwa kept digging into Suyeon's videos.
The third: "By Taylor'd Group Sound," footage of Group Sound performing at the Taylor'd Festival.
The fourth: "Group Sound EP," tracks like Leaping Over That Street and Ashen Days from their release.
The more videos she watched, the stronger Jeonghwa's sense of disbelief grew.
Making a grenade out of a pinecone?
How was this possible? How could someone with less than two years of guitar experience play like this?
Every note from Suyeon's hands had purpose. Not a single one wasted, not a single one lacking... complete control over every sound, bent to her will. Impossible, Jeonghwa thought unconsciously.
How could this be possible? It had to be a scam.
Even Picasso, one of art history's greatest geniuses, poured endless practice and effort into his brush from the moment he picked it up. Could anything truly be achieved without effort?
With some inexplicable resentment toward Suyeon, she kept scouring the internet. There had to be something... no way she reached that level in under two years.
But she found no evidence. Instead, she stumbled on sensational videos titled things like "Ha Suyeon School Violence Allegations Controversy?!" Stories of her bullying kids and extorting money in the past.
"What?"
Jeonghwa's mind clashed: Of course, a scammer would bully too versus No way a prodigy like this would do that...
School violence, huh. Was that what Jiyeon unnie meant by "school violence" back then?
But if so, how did she even get on TV? What's the deal?
Someone with clear evidence of major school violence issues, appearing on a major broadcaster's program like Kim Jiyeon's Music Letter just months later? How?
That curiosity resolved with the next video: "Who Is the Hot Guitarist Ha Suyeon?" Covering her past, the accident, and what followed.
Putting together the known story so far, it seems Teacher Seo Myeongjeon sensed his end was near and took Ha Suyeon as his disciple. He couldn't tolerate her genius talent wasted on bully thug antics.
...Even the story between her "master" Seo Myeongjeon and Suyeon. Gripped by the intriguing tale, Jeonghwa devoured every related bit she could find.
When she came to, the sun was setting. She'd started on her computer that morning. How had time flown like this?
"Just one last video, then dinner..."
She muttered and played it: Invasion 2024 Finals: Group Sound - Faults ().
And as she listened, tears streamed down her face. Penance for her own blindness to the dazzling talent, and the master-disciple bond that demanded tears.
Yet Jeonghwa didn't book Suyeon for the session. Despite those tears of remorse, a lingering thought held: She's not that good...
But Jeonghwa should have known. You shouldn't read lines like "From now on, you'll become conscious of breathing through your nose."
Denial or affirmation, consciousness itself triggers reaction.
Not session-worthy...
On set, she thought, lost in reverie, missing the staff calling her.
Not quite session level... or is she?
In the studio, she pondered, dark circles forming until her manager worried.
Session... nah, probably not.
At home before bed, she mulled, tossing for three sleepless hours.
After that agony, Jeonghwa's conclusion:
She was session-worthy...!
Cursing the wasted worry, she called Cheol-yeon for Suyeon's number and dialed immediately.
"Yes? That time? Sorry, but my session schedule's fully booked lately. Can't do it."
"...Pardon? Maybe if..."
"I have school and studies, so I don't have many days free to jump into sessions... um, yeah."
Myeongjeon stared at the endless text message—so long it came as MMS—feeling mildly absurd.
Jeonghyeon... that's the kid from Kim Jiyeon's Music Letter. Real name Kim Jeonghwa.
A singer he'd heard of even in his Seo Myeongjeon days, now with solid experience and hits.
Why go to such lengths? Bowing politely in dozens of lines to a girl decades younger like Ha Suyeon?
He shrugged it off and typed: I'll reply if a slot opens. Then edited to: I'll let you know if a slot opens.
Lately, gigs were plentiful—no need to cling to this one.
More importantly, should we hire an editor? This is too tough.
Myeongjeon wrestled with Premiere, thinking that. Adjusting Japan trip photos, editing vlogs. Books bought, dozens of lectures watched—video editing still eluded him.
Maybe ask Iseo. She seems like she'd be good at it.
Baseless, but MZ generation, right? Better at computer stuff than him.
He overlooked that Ha Suyeon was MZ too, and he'd lived as one for over a year.
"Yeah, it's me."
"Who is this?"
"Name's right there. Anyway, what've you been up to? Not just slacking off without practice, right? I said rest, but you still gotta practice."
"You told me to rest..."
First call since declaring band break. Myeongjeon endured Iseo's uninteresting updates, then got to his point.
"You know video editing, right?"
"Duh. Why?"
"Trying to upload band YouTube and my channel stuff. Need someone to edit. Figured if you're bored, you could do it."
"I'm not bored. I'm promoting the band."
"What kinda random BS is that?"
"For real."
Moments later, a KakaoTalk: TikTok clip on PC. Iseo cosplaying anime characters, short bass riffs from anime songs.
"So MZ."
Suspecting she was targeting him now, Myeongjeon soothed the sting. Anyway, she ended the call saying she was busy.
Gotta hire someone... and maybe a manager too.
He grabbed the mouse again. He'd have to edit it himself this time.
"Whoa, holy crap."
Ayoon muttered absentmindedly while scrolling her phone.
Rare YouTube notifications: Ha Suyeon's personal channel White Room and Group Sound's official.
Clearly freshly encoded, glitchy quality ignored, Ayoon read the description. Totally Suyeon's writing.
"Why is she so cute?"
"What's cute?"
Her friend—the one she'd converted to Group Sound stan recently—sidled up.
Showing the description, her friend muttered, "Holy shit, so cute I almost punched the wall."
"Right? High schooler using full formal '' and '' like some manga or webnovel character."
"Totally."
Chattering away. After sending her friend to the bathroom, Ayoon checked the fan cafe for reactions. Eager to freak out with like-minded fans.
But greeting her: a suspicious post titled NIMDEOK WHOA HUGE INSANE WTF.
Few posts in the quiet cafe, yet dozens of replies already.
"...What?!"
Dozens of replies like What does that mean? Ayoon unwittingly shouted, oblivious to the classroom stares locking on her.