Stripping Away the Excess

"I made the opening line..."

"Are... are you okay?"

Iseor showed up looking like she hadn't slept in days. Suyun twirled a strand of her hair. She made the opening line, huh. Iseor's eyes were hollow, her face completely haggard. Yet, she didn't look so exhausted that she would literally collapse onto the desk. But before that...

"You made it?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you email it?"

"N-No. I recorded it."

"Recorded it?"

Iseor pulled out her phone, intending to play the recording directly through the phone's speaker. Seeing this, Suyun let out a soft sigh.

"Email it to me. We have perfectly good speakers right here, so why are you trying to play it through your phone?"

"Oh, right."

"And you..."

Suyun was about to say more, but stopped herself after taking another look at Iseor's state. She didn't know why Iseor had gone to such extremes, but she had clearly been through the ringer. Any lecturing would have to wait until she recovered her mental state.

"Sent."

"Seriously, how many nights did you stay up? Have you even washed your hair?"

"I don't know..."

"Are you sure you're not sick? Go to a clinic after we're done today."

Iseor looked so utterly wrecked that even Seoha, who usually paid little attention to the other band members, was worried. Against the backdrop of their concern, Suyun downloaded the recording and played it.

"Uh..."

What came through was the crackling, low-quality audio typical of a phone microphone. The recording, which started with a flurry of static as if it had captured every ambient noise in existence, suddenly blasted a deafening roar after a brief silence, nearly tearing the speakers apart.

"Holy crap! Where on earth did you record this? Why did you use your phone?"

"Ah, I couldn't carry my gear around..."

"Where did you even go to work on this? On the street?"

While the three of them covered their ears (hilariously, Iseor covered her own ears even though she was the one who recorded it), Suyun paused the playback and scolded her. Was she working while wandering the streets? Suyun was about to nag her again, but held her tongue, lowered the volume, and hit play once more. Even at a lower volume, the audio clipping was painfully obvious... and yet.

"Uh... isn't this, like, actually good? No, it's really good..."

"It's not bad at all. Pretty technical. Your hard work paid off."

A sudden, explosive four-bar solo. Followed by a calm, thick finger-picked intro. Hyun-ah and Seoha's reactions showed they hadn't expected anything like this. It was as good as they hoped—no, even better.

But Suyun twirled her hair again. No matter how she looked at it...

"Is there really a need to go this far?"

"...Huh?"

"Did you write this after listening to Victor Wooten or something?"

She's overeager, Suyun thought. It was a performance that felt like she had crammed every single technique she could confidently pull off into a mere four bars. Double thumbing, sliding, bending, double-pluck hammer-ons, ghost notes... If they zoomed in on her with a camera during a live show, it would certainly have an impact.

"But we don't need to go this far."

Suyun could understand where she was coming from. Since Iseor had never done anything like this before, she probably lacked confidence. On the flip side, she likely wanted to show off her skills. She might have thought that going in a more technical direction than the usual reference tracks would create a bigger impact.

But as the saying goes, too much is as bad as too little. Suyun felt the opening line Iseor had brought was simply too bloated.

"Well..."

"I mean, I'm not saying I'm absolutely right. But have you ever seen me put such a complex performance on an album? Even if we play technically during live shows, we don't go that far on the studio tracks."

"T-That's true..."

"Now that I think about it, since we're musicians, we can listen to this and appreciate how well she played. But I'm not sure how the general public would react," Hyun-ah and Seoha chimed in.

As Iseor's face, which had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brightened up at the initial praise, began to fall, Suyun stood up and grabbed a bass resting on a stand in the practice room. Ignoring Hyun-ah's questioning gaze, she recalled the performance she had just heard and began to play it note by note.

"Oh...?! Suyun, you... you know how to play the bass...?"

"I'm the one who taught her how to play. Why wouldn't I know how? Though she's definitely better than me now..."

Saying this, Suyun played the recording one more time. Closing her eyes, she began to deconstruct and reconstruct the performance in her mind.

In the old wuxia novels she used to read, they often said that flashiness and weight were polar opposites. The flashy, superficial martial arts meant to dazzle the eyes would ultimately be dismantled by basic techniques built up step by step... It was a classic cliché.

But this performance was different. Even when you stripped away all the desperate flashiness, there was a solid foundation rooted firmly beneath.

After playing the recording a few more times, crossing her arms, and trying it out herself, Suyun dug into the sheet music, unearthed that core foundation, and played a simplified version on the bass.

"Ah..."

"You played this line once while trying to come up with the solo, didn't you?"

Iseor nodded, her expression a mix of awe and realization. I knew it, Suyun thought as she played the bass line again.

Once the unnecessary clutter was stripped away, what remained was a groove that blended moderate plucking, hammer-ons, and ghost notes. It perfectly complemented the finger-picked line that followed and the main chords of the song.

"I knew it."

It was something Iseor herself had created in the first place. But because she lacked confidence, she hadn't known what was better. Unsure of which direction to take, she had cast aside what might have been the best option. Instead, she had plastered on things she vaguely thought would look good, ruining her own creation.

It was a mistake talented kids often made—one that could be easily avoided with a guide, but would otherwise repeat endlessly without one.

"Give it a try."

Suyun handed the bass back to Iseor.

With slightly trembling hands, Iseor took the bass and slowly began to play the line she had just heard. Starting at 60 BPM, just as Suyun had taught her, her speed gradually picked up until she caught up to the original tempo.

It grew faster, more cheerful.

One by one, she began to weave in ad-libs. It expanded.

From there, it flowed continuously, as if she had written it this way from the very beginning. It kept going until it reached a natural conclusion.

But the train, which seemed ready to run forever, suddenly stumbled and crashed as it reached a point where no tracks had been laid. Her fingers tangled, and she scratched her head.

Embarrassed, Iseor untied her hair, tied it back up, and looked at Suyun.

"Suyun... I..."

"Man, you still have a lot to learn, don't you? Huh? You wrote this great line, but then you went and stuffed all this weird stuff in just to show off and brag about what a badass bassist you are. You're still green."

Before Iseor could say another word, Suyun cut her off with a teasing grin.

"See? She doesn't do TikTok for nothing."

"A total narc... narcissist... hehe..."

"You need to keep the self-promotion in moderation for the sake of your mental health. Always doing challenges on TikTok, Reels, Shorts, whatever..."

"...Hey! None of you guys do any promo, so I have to do it!"

"What's this? You're talking as if you're making some grand sacrifice? Don't do it! Nobody asked you to. Just quit, quit."

At their teasing, Iseor's fists trembled. Without any warning, she lunged at Suyun.

"Hey, they were teasing you too!"

Ignoring Suyun's protests, Iseor clung to her and delivered a rapid three-hit combo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to her ribs and chest, like a fighting game character.

"Ow... you're killing me..."

"Good grief..."

After successfully reducing one person to groans of pain, Iseor let out a deep sigh and hugged Suyun. Suyun gently patted her back.

Well, these things happen in life.

Meanwhile, in a certain place in Setagaya, Tokyo, as the first draft of the opening song for Train Trail was being frantically completed right before the deadline...

Back in Korea, on the main page of the Japanese anime-specialist OTT platform, Tycoon, a YouTube video was released right on schedule.

However, while this was on the content schedule, it wasn't on anyone else's radar. The users of Tycoon were greeted by a massive banner for a piece of content that, to them, had absolutely no context, reason, or warning.

Self-produced content released out of nowhere, without any context, reason, or prior notice. A forced collaboration that neither the otakus nor the fans of Group Sound wanted.

However, the content of the video was so bizarre that none of the three groups could have anticipated it—yet it was also normal enough to satisfy most of them.

The Korean internet, usually a breeding ground for instigation, hatred, fabrication, and distortion. Yet, the comment section of this YouTube video was as peaceful as the Christmas truce of World War I.

While many shared their thoughts and all three groups learned new facts...

The user had posted that theory without much thought.

But the speculation began to spread like wildfire across a dry field.

It was a highly plausible theory, and one that would have a massive impact on all three scenes.