The Youngest Mentor
“Ah, hello PD-nim. I should have called you first. How have you been?”
“Aigoo~ What’s with the call? No need for that. I’m doing fine, everyone’s been looking out for me.”
Im Jonghun PD bantered on like that, rambling about his recent life. Suyeon thought, 'Old folks say young people hate hearing their life updates, and this is exactly that vibe.' Still, she listened patiently. The chat dragged on for a few minutes until she started wondering if she should nudge him toward the point.
“It’s nothing major, but remember when we talked during that Band of Guitarists meeting?”
“You mean the next launch program you mentioned back then?”
“Yeah, that one! The format’s changed a bit, but it’s launching anyway. Thanks to you lately, people are getting into bands and rock—lucky break.”
Suyeon tilted her head slightly. She’d been hearing it a lot lately. Stuff like, 'You girls are reviving Korean rock.' She dismissed it as nonsense, but deep down, a tiny part of her wondered if it could be true. After all, weren’t there bands like The Beatles who sparked the British Invasion all by themselves? Of course, Group Sound wasn’t anywhere near that level…
“Anyway, calling to ask if you’re interested in joining. We tweaked the format for the launch.”
“You changed the format?”
The pilot’s format had been something like, 'Introduce each other’s bands from an outsider’s view, play their songs over MR tracks for a collab vibe to spark interest…'—a thinly veiled setup for competition. As a pilot, there’d been no eliminations or real rivalry, but now as a full program, competition was inevitable. Changing the format meant…
“It’s still a competition! Just the way we do it is different.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Before, it was just band guitarists competing head-to-head, right? But these guys have bands, egos, pride—they’re not gonna like direct clashes. Remember I Am a Singer? Heard it got ugly with all the pride battles… You too young for that show?”
Im PD went on, explaining why he’d switched things up—acquaintance guitarists balking, others saying the format made joining tough, even though he held the power on terrestrial TV, he had to hear them out to keep the indie scene alive, and so on. Suyeon had no idea why she was stuck listening to his venting. Maybe he just wants to unload on someone who won’t push back.
“So the new format: Instead of band folks competing straight-up, we split into mentees and mentors.”
“Mentors and mentees?”
“Young kids, ones who haven’t blown up yet—they’re mentees. Mentors coach ’em, compete, rank ’em. Thinking of adding session players for variety too.”
'If that’s the case…'
Suyeon figured she didn’t qualify as “hasn’t blown up,” but as a “young kid,” she’d definitely end up a mentee. Who else could they get that matched her? Unless they dug up some guitar prodigy kid from old Starking shows—elementary or middle schoolers—no one younger than her.
'But if I join as a mentee…'
It’d throw off the balance. Even if they called her young, she wasn’t at the level of competing with amateurs the PD might label as such. Plus, her opponents would feel cheated. Then came the bombshell she could hardly believe.
“Oh, if you join, you’ll be a mentor, Suyeon.”
“Pardon? Me, a mentor?”
“Try on one more.”
At those words, Suyeon silently headed back to the fitting room for the next outfit. Despite her obvious 'I don’t wanna wear this' face, her quiet compliance made both the sales clerk and Hyein burst out laughing.
“Your daughter’s such a good girl~”
“Ah, she wasn’t before, but she’s grown up lately, I guess.”
“Puberty hits everyone hard.”
It wasn’t puberty, but Hyein just smiled and said, “Yeah~” anyway. After all, something had happened back then.
“See? It suits you perfectly. Should we get it?”
Suyeon emerged in a light brown, thigh-length minimalist open jacket, beige V-neck knit, and culotte shorts that looked like a wrap skirt at first glance. She was the picture-perfect daughter Hyein wanted to parade around shouting, 'This is my girl!!'
“Whatever… if you want.”
But Suyeon looked utterly indifferent. No surprise—she’d wear black shirts or tees with slacks year-round if not for broadcasts or stages, just like some office drone. Still, she’d throw on the bought clothes a few times soon enough, which warmed Hyein’s heart.
“So, you’re joining that program production, right?”
“You’re on TV a lot these days. Told school yet?”
“Ah, not yet. But it’s daytime shooting, so I probably should…”
“Ask ’em to schedule it for evenings.”
Suyeon grumbled a bit, same old complaint. Absences for shoots or work got excused and understood, but she insisted on school anyway. Her diligence kicks in at the weirdest spots.
“Worried about attendance?”
“It’s school. Gotta go.”
“Well, Mom thinks you don’t have to, but…”
Hyein tilted her head. Wasn’t it usually the reverse? Mom pushing, 'Graduate high school at least!' Daughter retorting, 'What’s the point?!' But here, the daughter was the responsible one.
'Wait a sec…'
“Suyeon, you planning to go to college? Music department maybe.”
“Me?”
Her baffled look said no way. But Hyein thought it wasn’t a bad idea. Music schools focused on practical skills anyway. Even with slipping grades, Suyeon’s band success could get her in.
“Not really thinking about it now.”
“Just consider it.”
“Hmm…”
Suyeon tilted her head, pondering like she was choosing words carefully.
“Even if I went to music college, it’d be tough short-term.”
“Why?”
“Gotta prep a solo concert early next year, then Japan expansion after… Might end up living there.”
“Living in Japan?”
“Can’t fly back and forth for live house gigs forever. Not sure yet, but I won’t stick around Korea long enough for college.”
“Makes sense.”
Hyein paused, mulling it over. It checked out—they wouldn’t commute to Japan constantly.
“Anyway, I’ll think about it.”
Suyeon wrapped it up like that. Hyein got déjà vu. It was the exact vibe of her employees saying 'We’ll consider it' to her orders, then ghosting them entirely. Total office drone energy from her daughter.
Outside the broadcasting station conference room. Taemin took deep breaths, steadying his shaky hands. Why so nervous? Meeting seniors? First show jitters? Even his high school festival debut hadn’t felt this intense.
“Hello!”
A few more breaths, then he eased the door open. The room buzzed with people—big shots he’d seen on TV or YouTube, familiar faces, viral guitarists.
“Hello! I’m Ahn Taemin. I run a small YouTube channel and have released some tracks…”
He pitched himself hard, hoping to stick in their minds. Better odds of getting picked as a mentee later.
“Hey, Taemin!”
“Hyung! Fancy seeing you here.”
Greeting done, he turned to the young crowd—obvious mentees. He knew a couple, nodded hellos, introduced himself to the rest.
“I’m from the small channel Salted Guitar…”
“Ohhh, I’ve seen that. Your tabs are killer. Bought a few scores.”
“Really? Thanks!”
Introductions wrapped, Taemin scanned for stragglers. All familiar faces. About to sit, he spotted someone in the corner, chair turned to the wall. Petite silhouette.
'Another person…?'
Approaching quietly, the figure turned at his footsteps. Taemin recognized her instantly. Youthful face that’d age into stunning beauty. Unforgettable features, lately more famous for something else than her looks.
“Are you… Ha Suyeon?”
“...Huh? Oh, yeah. That’s me.”
She shook her head like she’d been dozing, then peered at him, still foggy. Tilting her head, she asked, “Who might you be?”
“Ah, since we’re doing this program together, just saying hi to the other participants!”
“Got it… Nice to meet you.”
Taemin grabbed her outstretched hand quick. Brown jacket, beige V-neck knit—polished look, no sleepy “humiliating shot” vibes.
'She’s got everything…'
“I’m Ahn Taemin! Small YouTube channel, in a band…”
“Uh… I’m Ha Suyeon.”
“I know! Group Sound guitarist, right?”
And so on.
“Wait, what?! Ha Suyeon?! For real?”
“When’d she get here?”
Oversiders chimed in as they chatted. She’d been tucked against the wall, easy to miss. The spot turned half fanmeet. Taemin stepped aside, thinking.
'But if she’s in, isn’t it an auto-win?'
Band fame, guitar skills—she was the hottest in Korea’s scene right now. Snag her as mentee and…
“Alright, everyone here? Let’s start the meeting. Mentors one side, mentees the other.”
PD entered mid-thought. People shuffled to seats. Taemin blinked in disbelief: Suyeon sat in the mentor section.
“Suyeon, you’re a mentor?”
“Ah, yeah… that’s how it shook out.”
“Mentor? How old are you again?”
“Korean age nineteen now… international eighteen.”
“Kekeke… Man, Jonghun PD knows how to stir the pot. Underage mentor before twenty? Headlines incoming.”
“That’s what I’m going for.”
'Mentor? Her?'
In the noisy room, Taemin reeled. A kid? Mentor? Sure, killer guitarist, but at not-even-twenty? Age aside, something else nagged. He’d seen the docu—so he knew her guitar career was barely two years old. Short time meant mastery of her style, ignorance of others. Mentors couldn’t just teach their niche. How the hell would she pull it off?
Taemin was dying to know.