Session Portfolio
From the beginning of this week, Myeongjeon's body hadn't been feeling right. He'd thought that after decades of life, he had reached a level where he could control his emotions to some degree. But lately, that wasn't the case at all. Emotions bouncing around erratically, unpleasant feelings creeping in. Just like how you can't stop your knees from aching on a day when rain's coming, Myeongjeon puzzled over these emotions whose source he couldn't pinpoint.
Am I getting sunlight? Taking vitamins? Exercising? What's the damn problem?
Every morning, he'd wake at dawn, strap on a mask, and run 3km. Pull-ups: three sets of five. Squats: basic 200 reps. These were routines he'd done back in his Seo Myeongjeon days, and he kept them up even as Ha Suyeon. Sure, there were parts he hadn't mastered yet due to the physical differences between male and female bodies, but that was fine—he was putting in the effort.
Is it that time of the month or something?
Myeongjeon mulled it over. Well, yeah—after switching from man to woman, something like periods could happen. It was natural for a body this age. Hmm, so is this what a period feels like? Brushing it off as no big deal, he twirled his pen and glanced at the female teacher passionately lecturing away. What's the fuss over a bad mood? Women really are such drama queens...
"Ugh."
Suyeon slammed her head onto the desk.
Thud!
The sound made the whole class turn to stare at her. Dain panicked. Suyeon had been acting weird since her accident, but doing this in the middle of class? Things had gotten serious. With all the talk about teacher authority these days...!
"Hey, what's wrong?!"
Rushing over, Dain saw Suyeon's face twisted in agony, pale as death. No way, is she...?
I knew it... Suyeon had always had bad cramps, missing school once a month because of it. But come on—even with amnesia, how could she not remember her own body's signals?
"You should head home early."
"No, um... won't that... ugh... go on my attendance record... badly?"
"What are you talking about? Nobody cares about that anymore."
Even with Dain chiming in, Suyeon shook her head. She just had this inexplicable aversion to leaving early. But you're not even paying attention in class—why not just go?
"Suyeon, don't be stubborn. Go home and rest. Take some painkillers, bundle up in a warm blanket."
The nurse's gentle advice. "See?" Dain scolded Suyeon and led her to the homeroom teacher. This happened often enough that the teacher would handle it no problem...
Did I really need to go home early for this?
Myeongjeon was an old-school guy. Really old-school. The kind from an era when you went to school or work through typhoons and floods. Deep in his memories, there was even that incident where a female teacher slapped a girl for wanting to go home due to cramps. By his standards, letting him leave early like this was absurd. You're alive? Stay at school. Live at school, die at school—unless your limbs were snapped clean off.
This might be why discipline in our country's gone to hell...
Even the denture-wearing old men playing baduk in Pagoda Park wouldn't dream of skipping out these days. Clutching his stomach, Myeongjeon crawled home. The painkillers had kicked in; he felt much better than before. After washing up, he checked his phone. KakaoTalk notifications piled up sky-high.
Ha Suyeon's friends. He'd started reading their chats a while back. Myeongjeon replied to each one: No big deal. Home now, cleaned up.
These guys kept messaging relentlessly after one reply. Myeongjeon pondered how to handle them, then tossed the phone on the bed. What to do with the extra time? Cramps still lingered, but he couldn't waste it all. Still, he was a routine guy. Routines imprinted habits—like how thirty years of clockwork commuting made him wake up at the same time, like it or not.
For example, on non-session or jam days: eat with "Mom," practice with amp from exactly 8 to 10 PM, headphones from 10 to midnight. Up at 6 AM for workout, school. Home, dinner with Lee Hyein, tidy up (edit YouTube vids or whatever), back to practice. By that schedule, midday like now? Nothing slotted.
Practice? Tinker with YouTube? Nah, those are routine-tied—not now.
Maybe knock out some session work...
Myeongjeon picked up the guitar. He was busking for PR right now, but that wasn't enough. Busking was playing others' finished songs—interpretation only. Sessions meant matching guitar to unborn tracks. How you layer it changes the vibe. Busking alone didn't prove session chops, even if it hyped his name.
Hence, portfolio. Stuff showing your style, workflow, samples—what clients could expect.
"No acoustic or nylon on hand right now..."
Myeongjeon muttered, gripping the guitar. Electric could mimic those tones, but recording? Only if the client wanted it quirky. He recalled making portfolios online for session recordings, what, fifteen years back? If he just had existing work, no need—but...
While recording, he grabbed his phone again. More KakaoTalk buildup. Replying away, Iseo's caught his eye.
No reply for a while after that. Myeongjeon watched the phone, then chucked it on the bed. It buzzed immediately.
"Hello?"
"What do you mean 'working'??? Rest if you're sick."
"I've got free time—why rest? I can work."
"But you're sick..."
"It's not like my limbs are broken. Does this even count as 'sick'?"
Myeongjeon strummed the guitar as he spoke. A dull throb persisted, but whatever. Didn't some famous singer keep making music after getting electrocuted? Well, he hospitalized first, but still.
"You've lost your mind."
"I'm fine. Anyway, any ideas on promoting sessions to get attention? My brain's blank."
Over the line came a fierce clean-tone guitar solo. Tremolo arm dives gut-punching the heart.
Is this how she practices and works to play so well?
Iseo thought so. In truth, it was WW2-era Japanese army spiritism nonsense—the real reason Suyeon rocked guitar was a veteran guitarist possessing a high school girl's body after enough mileage. But Iseo couldn't see that reality. She just figured: Hard worker, natural talent.
"First off, what's a session again?"
Myeongjeon explained: like recording fitting guitar parts for non-guitarists, that kinda gig.
Iseo seemed to get it.
"Hmm... not sure on promo, huh?"
"No flashing cleavage or showing skin. That's off-limits."
Myeongjeon preempted. Anything else, maybe—but not that. A man couldn't do it, ever.
"Then, uh... dunno the format, but pull aggro?"
"Aggro what?"
Silence from Iseo. How to explain...
"Anyway, stir up buzz. Like, reveal you're a high school girl. Curiosity alone would get eyes on your session post."
"Huh?"
What nonsense is that? Myeongjeon nearly shot it down, but Iseo kept going.
"Like, end your session ad with 'Can't work after 10 PM—gotta get home early, high school girl life.' Everyone'd call wondering if it's real."
"Doubt it. Skill matters for sessions, not being a schoolgirl."
Myeongjeon tried to shut it down firm. Wrong direction. But Iseo wasn't backing off.
"Think about it. Same price? You'd pick the girl who's gonna go viral. Free promo. And you said it yesterday—four-girl band has massive impact. Same vibe?"
Myeongjeon scratched his head. Fair point. Why so many hot rockstars? Songs endure, sure—but fame to sustain 'em often starts with looks.
"I dunno much, but say you sessioned a famous track. Turns out it's a cute high school girl shredding like you. Boom, famous either way."
"Maybe..."
Sessions supported songs, didn't steal spotlight—but yeah, some logic there. Not that he'd promo as "Beautiful High School Guitarist Does Sessions." Iseo tossed it out casually, but it stuck with Myeongjeon. How to promo, what concept...? More to chew on.