A Lesson in Practice

"W-what... what kind of nonsense is that?"

"You're talking nonsense. While practicing is important, resting is just as crucial. The brain needs time to consolidate the results of your practice."

Immediately after hearing what could only be described as an outrageous claim, the judges' reactions were perfectly rational and normal.

After all, the human body isn't built to work that way. Focus and patience are finite resources. Once depleted, you have to wait for them to recharge, and even if you have plenty, you can't just squander them like water.

After immersing yourself in something, you must take an adequate rest. Pushing through continuously without a break only tanks your efficiency. That is the law of nature.

So, if nothing else, what the judges said about the amount of practice was correct. It was textbook, logical advice.

The only problem was... the person sitting right in front of them was someone whose sheer irrationality and absurdity when it came to the guitar could easily rival the best in the world.

"You're wrong. If you practice a lot, you will unconditionally get better. Rest? Why would I rest? Are you guys good at guitar? Better than me?"

It was an incredibly provocative statement. But just as the judges were about to flare up in anger, they recalled the god-tier guitar playing Suyun had just demonstrated. It was a level of skill that no one in that room could ever hope to match technically.

"Who on earth practices like that?"

Because of that, the counterargument that slipped out reflexively was incredibly weak.

"I do. And my late master? He practiced like that for decades."

And even that feeble protest was shut down with ease.

As the judges stared at her in utter disbelief, Suyun spoke in Japanese, her tone like a teacher lecturing young children.

"I have been playing guitar for four years. And this is my skill level. What about you all? How many years have you played? Probably ten times longer than me. But I am better. The reason? Practice. While you were being lazy, I was practicing."

"Is guitar skill determined solely by technique?"

With all their arguments on the verge of being completely dismantled, one of the judges muttered under his breath.

Completely forgetting they were in the middle of a TV recording, the other judges—who had been desperately searching for any way to refute the young girl in front of them—latched onto those words as if a savior had arrived.

"Exactly! Guitar isn't just about technique."

"The technical aspect is certainly important. But what's even more important is the emotional depth. Your playing lacks soul."

"Experience, emotion... A performance that is merely precise and flashy can never move people to tears."

Even though they had been singing a completely different tune just moments ago—complaining about her lack of technique and how her part was too small—they seamlessly shifted goalposts as if they had never said such things. And on their faces, a smug sense of impending victory began to bloom.

There was no concrete proof, but logically speaking, it made perfect sense to them. Acid Rain was by no means an easy song. Even if one did nothing but play the guitar every waking second, it was an incredibly difficult piece for a complete beginner to master within four years.

And to perform it live so cleanly, without a single mistake, as easily as breathing, required both boundless talent and an eternity of grueling, agonizing practice.

If she had reached such heights through an endless grind of practice, then—while the two weren't entirely mutually exclusive—her "emotional depth" was bound to be lacking as a trade-off. Reaching that conclusion wasn't entirely illogical.

The only problem was... the person sitting right in front of them was someone whose sheer irrationality and absurdity when it came to the guitar could easily rival the best in the world.

'Soul.' 'Can't move people to tears.'

The moment she heard those words, Suyun's immediate response was to pick up her guitar once more.

And the song that flowed from her fingertips was none other than Roy Buchanan's Wayfaring Pilgrim.

Substituting the bass and drums with a simple stomp of her foot, she let a low, bluesy guitar solo echo through the studio. Pouring meticulous care into every single note, she constantly bent the strings and shook the tremolo arm to craft a weeping vibrato.

"Whoa...!"

It was hard to believe this was the same guitarist who had unleashed a torrential storm of notes just minutes prior. Gasps of awe involuntarily escaped from the audience.

The celebrity guests stared wide-eyed at the spectacle, and even the MC closed his eyes slightly, completely lost in the music.

The razor-sharp, metronomic tempo was long gone. Yet, those who knew the guitar—and even those who had absolutely no musical knowledge whatsoever—could instinctively feel one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thing... Every single beat being played was under the absolute, deliberate control of Suyun's fingertips.

Without a single millimeter of error, everything went exactly as calculated...

"Is this enough?"

At that, the judges fell into a heavy silence once more. They simply had nothing left to say.

What on earth could they say to someone whose technique and feel were both leagues above their own?

"I have shown you. Please translate this for me. I don't understand how these folks, who can barely play the guitar themselves, have the audacity to judge who is a 'Super Guitarist.' If you're going to judge, do it properly. You made me play in the waiting room earlier, only to sit here nitpicking and talking nonsense... Act your age, seriously."

Though the exact words were lost on them, the unmistakable tone of contempt in her Korean echoed through the room. When the translated, slightly softened Japanese version was delivered, the judges reacted in various ways.

Some hung their heads, while others stared blankly at the ceiling, desperately trying to suppress their rising emotions.

"Uh... Well, since the verification of her skills seems to be complete! Shall we take a quick break here? We'll resume recording shortly and deliver the final verdict on the Super Guitarist!"

As the MC's voice rang out, the PD nodded in agreement. Immediately, the celebrity guests began whispering among themselves, and some even jumped out of their seats to approach Suyun.

The audience members, who served as the voting panel, were also buzzing with excitement. They marveled at what they had just witnessed, took photos of Suyun, or asked the staff how they could get her autograph.

The only place wrapped in dead silence was the judges' panel. They had just been thoroughly dressed down by a girl young enough to be their granddaughter, yet they couldn't offer a single word of rebuttal. Because of this, the authority they had spent decades building had been utterly shattered.

In fact, several guests and audience members were already whispering while glancing at the judges' table, as if to say, 'Aren't they just making up ridiculous excuses?'

Normal people, when backed into such a corner, would concede. They would realize there was nowhere left to retreat, and that continuing to deny the truth and stubbornly insist on their way would only make them look even more pathetic than they already did.

The only problem was... the people sitting at that judges' table were notorious for being utterly irrational and absurd when it came to their stubbornness.

With nothing left beneath their skin but self-righteousness, stubbornness, and pure boomer energy, they muttered among themselves and made a pact. No matter what, they would never recognize that girl as a Super Guitarist. Completely unaware of the consequences this decision would bring upon them.

What happened afterward during the recording ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could be summarized in just a few words: "old men throwing a tantrum."

"We cannot accept this."

"Before being good at the guitar, one must have good character."

"Can a child who disrespects her elders just because she has some skill truly deserve the title of Super Guitarist? I vote no."

Among everyone present, there wasn't a single person who didn't recognize Ha Suyun as a Super Guitarist. Her attitude was a bit arrogant, but even that could be seen as a positive for her on-screen persona.

Even the PD was thinking about getting her contact info to cast her for future shows, marveling at what a rare character they had found. Yet, the five judges stubbornly dug their heels in, refusing to acknowledge Ha Suyun as a Super Guitarist.

Due to the show's format, which combined the votes of both the judges and the audience panel, Ha Suyun would still easily qualify as a Super Guitarist even if all the judges opposed her.

"The optics aren't great, so please, just agree to it. Someone of her caliber is more than qualified to be a Super Guitarist, isn't she? That's how we've always done it."

"We can't do that. We have our pride. Would you agree to this if you were in our shoes?"

"No, but... sirs. The broadcast flow is going to look..."

"To hell with the broadcast! If you were going to do whatever you wanted anyway, why did you even invite us?!"

What they displayed during this process was a literal shitshow. They threw tantrums, yelled, and even power-tripped by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠threatening to boycott future broadcasts.

These antics naturally pushed the PD's patience past its breaking point... ultimately leading him to pay a visit to the bureau chief's office, while a certain post found its way onto Twitter.

To deliberately stir up controversy, the staff had consulted with the PD to upload the videos as if they were filmed by an ordinary audience member. Those videos possessed more than enough power to thrust SUPER GUITARIST - In Search of the Legendary Guitarist, which was already generating quiet buzz, straight into the center of a massive storm.

And the actual broadcast, released right on cue, was more than enough to leave the judges in utter shock. They had assumed the production team would edit the footage to soften their image, just as they always did.

The editing framed Suyun's scathing remarks as a unique, entertaining character trait, while leaving the judges' complaints completely unvarnished, exposing their raw, stubborn "boomer" nature to the world.

In the very next episode following Suyun's appearance, the judging panel had been completely replaced. They were replaced with younger, far more reputable musicians.

Neither the broadcasting station, the PD, nor the former judges offered any explanation, but absolutely no one was left wondering why.