The Indies Music Expo

"Was the atmosphere really like that back then?"

As usual, Suyun was in the living room of their dorm, strumming her electric guitar unplugged. The question came from Iseor, who was watching a rerun of Super Guitarist on the living room TV.

Suyun looked up from her guitar and glanced at the screen. The broadcast was currently playing the segment where the judges ruthlessly tore Group Sound's song to shreds and belittled Suyun's guitar skills.

Wondering why Iseor was even asking about this now, Suyun stared at her.

Iseor continued, "I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mean, there's no way people in their right minds would just spout such trash talk on broadcast like that."

"Surprisingly, that was actually toned down."

"Hey, don't talk nonsense."

"I'm serious."

"That really happens? They just throw out obviously controversial remarks on TV and it's totally fine?"

"Well... Japan is, like... a bit lenient with that kind of stuff..." Hyun-ah chimed in, looking up from her phone. "No, actually... Korea is just a bit conservative..."

Hearing Hyun-ah's explanation, Iseor scratched her head in disbelief. Suyun felt the exact same way. If those comments had aired on Korean television, even if they were edited out as slander, the public would have lost their minds, screaming, Look at that bastard's trash character.

"In Japan... by Korean standards... there are really a lot of rude broadcasts... so you kind of have to... get used to it... I guess..."

"What level is that compared to the rest?"

"Pretty mild..."

"That's considered okay? Then what on earth is not okay?"

In response to Iseor's disbelief, Hyun-ah pulled up a few viral clips on her phone to show her.

One show featured a woman hanging from a horizontal bar while the camera zoomed in on her armpits as someone tickled them with a brush. Another showed a woman in a skirt forced onto a horse-riding exercise machine, clearly designed to expose her underwear. There was even a clip of a former idol who had been forced to retire as a minor due to a smoking scandal; when she made her TV comeback years later, the hosts openly offered her a cigarette on air.

"Uh... I'm suddenly starting to hate the idea of appearing on Japanese TV. This is normal, right? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It's normal to not want to go on after seeing this, right?"

"Wouldn't it be abnormal to want to appear after seeing that? Is this why Japanese idols try so hard to go to Korea?"

Suyun twirled a strand of her hair. She had heard that Japanese television had plenty of bizarre, borderline perverted variety shows, but she hadn't realized it was this extreme. While she was silently resolving to be highly selective about any future TV appearances, Iseor threw out another question.

"Then what about this part?"

"What now?"

Suyun, who had been planning to retreat to her room to practice, looked back at the screen. The TV was now playing the part where Suyun was emphasizing the absolute necessity of practice.

"It was the same back then too."

"No, there's no way anyone in their right mind would say something so crazy. Saying we shouldn't schedule practice time, but schedule break times instead..."

"Life must be getting too comfortable for you lately, talking back like that."

Iseor shut her mouth instantly.

Suyun gave her guitar a light strum and fell into thought. Come to think of it, I haven't really seen these guys practice much since we arrived in Japan...

"Are you guys even practicing lately?"

"...Of course we are!"

"Why was that answer so slow? How many hours did you practice yesterday?"

"...Four hours."

"What the hell did you do instead of practicing? You don't even have any schedules lined up right now, so it's not like you have anything else to do."

"We don't have a proper practice room, so what do you expect us to do?" Iseor mumbled, her voice growing small. "We can't turn on the amps at night..."

Suyun tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. It was the classic excuse: I really wanted to practice, but the environment just didn't help. Granted, blasting an amplifier in a residential area at night was the height of public nuisance. But...

"You can just practice with headphones on, can't you?"

Iseor fell into a stunned silence, completely defeated. Having successfully shut Iseor up, Suyun turned her head to look for Hyun-ah. However, Hyun-ah had already slipped away and vanished into her room when no one was looking.

"Open the door."

Suyun knocked on the bedroom door, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there was no response. She knocked louder.

Finally, a faint voice drifted through the wood.

"I'm... going to sleep..."

"What nonsense are you talking about? Sleeping at this hour?"

"I suddenly got tired..."

"Hey. You and I share this room. Am I supposed to sleep on the street?"

"Sleep on... the couch cushions in the living room... I don't know..."

"Hey. Open the door. Quick! If you keep this up, your practice hours are going up. If you don't open this door right now, I'm adding one minute of practice for every second you delay. One minute, two minutes, three minutes, four minutes, five minutes..."

Despite the threat, Hyun-ah refused to open the door. Instead, a loud, exaggerated snoring sound—clearly played from a YouTube video—began to echo from inside the room.

Snore... wheeze, choke. Snore...

Suyun pressed a hand to her forehead. Why on earth did these kids hate practicing so much?

Naturally, it didn't cross her mind for even a single second that she might be the root cause of their trauma.

"I think we need a studio."

The sudden request echoed through the quiet office.

Manager Jung raised her head, looking around to see who had spoken. At the very end of the office, sitting at a desk with her headphones draped around her neck, was a familiar face staring right back at her.

It was Suyun.

"A studio?"

"A practice room-slash-studio. Like the one we had back at the Seoul office."

Yoo-young, the manager, adjusted her glasses. "Well... it's possible, but our revenue structure isn't fully established here yet, so we want to minimize overhead costs as much as possible." She paused, then asked, "Why do you ask?"

As if she had been waiting for this exact question, Suyun immediately launched into her explanation.

"It's not that the practice room we're renting now has bad facilities or anything."

"Right."

"But we can only use it for a set amount of time each day, right? So the kids are using that as an excuse to not practice, play around, run away, or avoid working... I can see them doing it."

I knew that was the reason... Manager Jung thought to herself. But to hear it confirmed so bluntly was another thing entirely. She stared at Suyun's face. Suyun looked genuinely convinced of her own righteousness. Well, since Suyun actually practiced what she preached to an absurd degree, no one could really argue with her.

"I think the other band members are already practicing and working plenty..."

"Listen to this. The day before yesterday, Iseor only practiced for four hours. Does that make any sense?"

Suyun was completely deaf to any counterarguments. Manager Jung recalled what the other members had told her in private. To them, "four hours of practice" referred strictly to "individual practice." Ensemble practice and jamming weren't even counted as "practice" in Suyun's book.

"Well... we'll look into that gradually."

"Yes, please do. I'm counting on you."

"More importantly, how is the songwriting going?" Manager Jung quickly changed the subject, silently praying for the souls of the band members who were currently being tormented by their leader.

"Well... it's going alright in its own way. If all goes according to plan, the drafts should all be out within a month."

"You're going with that concept you mentioned before, right?"

"Yes. A bit of old prog. Not metal, but rock. I'm still a bit on the fence about whether this concept will work, though."

Suyun twirled her hair. Her words brought Manager Jung back to a meeting they had held in Korea a few weeks ago. They had gathered with the CEO, Team Leader Ko, and several other staff members to discuss the band's musical direction. After they ultimately decided to go with the direction Suyun suggested, Team Leader Ko had pulled Manager Jung aside for a private chat.

Hearing those words back then had felt like a bolt of lightning to Manager Jung.

It was true. Even when Manager Jung knew absolutely nothing about this industry, Suyun had constantly created things and achieved success after success. And even now, she was trying to forge something entirely new.

"In the end, since I'm not Japanese, I guess... I don't feel entirely confident," Suyun murmured. "I've looked through all the market materials you gave me, but it feels like I'm only grasping it superficially."

"Then how about going here?"

With those thoughts in mind, Manager Jung walked over and handed Suyun a flyer.

It was for an event she had recently researched. While it might not give Suyun the perfect, absolute answer, she expected it would help her find the right path to some extent.

"What is this?"

"I recently found out about this event. Interesting, isn't it? The Japanese market is truly massive, being able to host an event like this."

"...I see. To think something like this actually exists."

As Suyun muttered to herself, her eyes locked onto the bold, impactful Katakana characters printed on the flyer.

It was a name that made her think, This is something that could absolutely never be held in Korea.

To find the origins of this grandly named event, the Indies Music Expo, one had to travel quite far back in time.

Over a decade ago, an exceptionally influential guitarist in the Japanese band scene suddenly had an idea.

I want to help my indie juniors grow, but how should I go about it?

After agonizing over the question, the guitarist decided to gather the indie bands he knew for a casual networking meetup. His goal was to help them build connections, draw influence from each other's music, and offer them a bit of his own guidance along the way.

The idea proved to be incredibly effective. Many indie juniors grew rapidly through the opportunity. That growth led to the event being held again, which naturally drew even more people. And just as profit always follows where crowds gather, sponsors soon stepped in, eager to sell instruments to the indie musicians. Major brands began arriving to promote their gear.

The snowball kept rolling, and the ultimate result of that momentum was the Indies Music Expo.

Though the "influential guitarist" had long since stepped away, the event continued to run smoothly through the mutual interests of various organizations and passionate volunteers. It had become one of the massive pillars supporting the Japanese indie band scene.

I'm just glad it's not as hot as last year.

A staff member in charge of booth management and guest guidance wiped away a thin bead of sweat as she thought to herself. Last year had been so brutally hot that the people waiting outside the venue had suffered immensely.

Wait, that band over there... I think I've seen them before. Is that Glareblue? I heard they're really popular lately...

"Excuse me, where is the Fender booth?"

"Ah, yes! If you go to Area A, Booth 3, you'll find it. Are you looking for Fender Japan, or the other side? The Custom Shop is at Booth 7."

"Ah, thank you so much!"

As she watched the indie musicians walk away, she realized they were also from a band she recognized. She was pretty sure their name was Green Apple Sky.

"Did we have any general public attendees try to sneak in?"

"No, none so far."

When her senior in charge of enforcement passed by and tossed out the question, she shook her head. It was a necessary part of their job, born from the occasional trolls who were neither indie musicians nor gear buyers, but would falsely claim to be in a band just to sneak in and disrupt the event.

Even though there are some live performances, it's not actually a concert. Some people just don't get that...

With those thoughts, the staff member walked toward the entrance to help her senior.

As she watched the attendees receiving their wristbands and walking through the gates, she suddenly felt a strange sense of familiarity. It wasn't a face she knew personally, but rather someone she had seen very recently on her screen...

Ah... that girl... is it them?!

The memory clicked in her mind.

It was the beautiful genius guitarist who had recently taken the indie internet by storm with her transcendent, god-tier skills: Ha Suyun.

And standing beside her was Group Sound, the band that had completely conquered Korea and was now setting consecutive sell-out records in Japanese live houses.

The most hotly discussed band in the entire Japanese indie scene had just arrived.