Nothing New Under the Sun, and Yet
It was far too early; the sun hadn't even risen yet. A faint, pre-dawn glow hung over the distant horizon of skyscrapers. Watching the sky gradually brighten, Suyun ran. There was absolutely no need to hurry, yet she ran anyway.
All the while, she kept repeating it in her mind. She couldn't let go of the sudden realization that had struck her during her conversation with Iseor just moments ago.
'Right. There's nothing truly new.'
Indeed. There was nothing completely new under the sun. Everything was influenced by what came before.
'But things can still be new.'
The world constantly moves forward and evolves. It takes one step, then another, endlessly. And in doing so, it creates, creates, and creates something new.
Panting, she finally arrived at the agency's practice room. Suyun bolted up the stairs and flung the door open.
As the chilly air swept over her, she quickly flipped on the lights and the heater. She plugged her guitar into the amp, then sat down to warm her hands.
Her breath plumed white even indoors, perhaps because the sun had yet to rise.
Once her fingers thawed a bit, she picked up her guitar and stared down at the six strings.
Until now—or at least, until Iseor had spoken to her moments ago—Suyun had been utterly obsessed with the word 'originality.' More precisely, she had been crushed by the sheer weight of it.
It was only natural. The weight of creating something 'uniquely one's own' was immense. The more she learned about the artists praised for forging their own paths, the more awe-inspiring they seemed. She couldn't help but wonder what state of mind they were in when they dared to try such things.
But thinking about it now, those great creators probably felt the exact same way. Even the most legendary figures had their own idols. The Beatles started making music after listening to Elvis Presley. Pink Floyd visited the recording studio out of admiration for the Beatles. The Sex Pistols constantly dissed Pink Floyd out of sheer self-consciousness. Nirvana claimed the Sex Pistols as their favorite band... and so on.
What was it like when they were writing their songs? Did they think, "Ah, there are still so many uncharted territories left, this is the perfect environment for me to make something brand new!"? Obviously not.
Yet, they created something new. How was that possible? Was it purely because of their genius? Did they succeed only because they were once-in-a-generation talents destined to go down in music history? No.
'The Beatles, influenced by Bob Dylan, made Rubber Soul. The Beach Boys, influenced by Rubber Soul, made Pet Sounds. The Beatles, influenced by Pet Sounds, made Sgt. Pepper...'
Until she heard Iseor's words, Suyun had been suffocating under the pressure of 'originality.' That weight had constantly demanded something impossible of her: to use her unique self to create something unprecedented, something that had never existed before and would never exist again, something no one could ever hope to replicate.
But taking a step or two back, shaking off the weight of that word, she arrived at a simple truth: such a thing didn't exist in the first place. Because there was no such thing as something completely new. In the end, the 'new' was merely a gradual evolution of what already existed.
Just like science, history, or the very laws of nature. Music was no different. It was built by adding to it, bit by bit. Taking what already existed and infusing it with one's own colors... a tiny splash, a little more, or sometimes a massive leap forward.
If she kept building things like that, eventually, it would become something 'uniquely her own.'
'How should I play this?'
Suyun clenched and unclenched her hands. The sensation in her fingertips, once stiff and sluggish from the cold, had long since fully returned. Holding the instrument she had played for decades, she thought:
'Where should I start?'
Should she start with what she loved most? Blues, or progressive rock? No, if she did that, it wouldn't really feel new—
'Stop thinking like that. Don't try to make something grand.'
There was no need to try and overturn the history of music. Progress was, after all, incremental. She just had to start with what she liked, with what she was good at. She simply had to make sure she didn't stop there.
Not just stopping at what she liked. Not just settling for playing what she liked. She had to keep mixing, reflecting, and evolving, adding slightly different elements along the way.
If she did that... then one day, just like those legendary musicians, she too would leave her mark on the history of music. Suyun believed this with absolute certainty.
That afternoon.
"Where's Ha Suyun?"
Today was the day they had planned to go out for yakiniku for the first time in a while. But after spending the entire morning and afternoon trying to track down Suyun, who was nowhere to be found, Seoha finally gave up and asked Iseor.
"She's not picking up her phone, and I have no idea where she is. Have you seen her?"
"Suyun is dead."
"What are you talking about? Dead?"
"She told me to tell everyone she's dead."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"But unnie, is Suyun really still not back?"
"Of course not. Would I be asking you if she were here?"
Iseor had answered her question with another question. Seoha sighed in frustration. Then Iseor continued.
"She said she got hit by inspiration at dawn or something, left her phone behind, and headed to the practice room. She's probably still there."
"The practice room? We don't even have an album to record right now, what is she doing there? Hey, let's go check on her."
"Why do I have to go...?"
"Because I'm bored."
Armed with that slightly ridiculous excuse, the three of them arrived at the agency's practice room. Looking at the lights shining through the window, someone was definitely inside, but...
"I don't hear anything. Did she go out? If she were in there, you'd think we'd hear something."
"Only one way to find out," Seoha said, opening the door and stepping inside.
She was genuinely curious about what could possibly keep someone who had left at dawn cooped up in here all day.
But the scene that met her eyes when the door swung open was a bizarre figure in a long padded coat collapsed near the computer setup.
"What the—what is that?!"
"Suyun!"
Startled by the completely unexpected sight, Seoha shrieked. Meanwhile, Iseor rushed over to inspect the identity of the padded-coat creature.
"Is that really Suyun? She looks like a homeless person."
"Wait, why is she... collapsed...?"
While the other two stood frozen in shock, Iseor revealed the creature's true identity.
"It's Suyun, alright. But she's just sleeping."
"Sleeping?"
"Yeah. Hey, don't sleep on the floor, wake up. Hey. Hey! She's not budging. Your face is gonna freeze if you sleep in the cold like this. Hey. Hey... Wow, she's really out cold..."
"Maybe she'll wake up if we hit her?"
"Should we? Want me to try?"
"Seriously, why is she sleeping on the floor?"
After briefly contemplating whether to exact some petty revenge for all the times Suyun had bossed them around, they decided against it. Suyun wouldn't wake up no matter how much they shook her, only letting out soft, shallow breaths. They carefully lifted her and laid her down on the practice room sofa.
"She probably pulled an all-nighter," Iseor said. "When I woke up early this morning, she was still awake and working... I guess she came straight here and kept at it."
The three of them sat in the practice room—a place they hadn't visited in a while since finishing their tour—and debated what to do. They had a reservation at the yakiniku restaurant, but with Suyun in this state, it was obvious she wouldn't be joining them anytime soon.
"Should we just leave Suyun here and go eat meat by ourselves?"
"Unnie, that's a bit harsh, don't you think? There's nothing sadder than being left out of a meal."
"She's right..."
"Hey, I was just throwing it out there. Why are you guys looking at me like that?" Seoha grumbled, scratching her head.
The other two had reacted with dead seriousness to her playful suggestion. Seoha scratched her head. It looked like they would have to cancel tonight's reservation. Judging by how deeply asleep Suyun was, there was no way she would wake up by dinnertime.
"Let's just go tomorrow."
"Yeah. It's not like today is our only chance."
"Okay..."
"But seriously, what was she working on that kept her up all night? It's not like we have any projects right now."
"You know, that collaboration..."
"Ah, with Keike?"
"I heard there's another band besides Keike. Anyway, she said she stayed up all night working on that."
In response to Seoha's question, Iseor gave a brief summary of what had happened that morning. She explained the serious dilemma Suyun had been agonizing over lately, starting from the beginning all the way to the moment Suyun had bolted out of the house after their conversation.
"Hmm..."
"I think... I kind of get what she was going through..."
"Wait, why is everyone getting it except me?"
"Well, it's a creator thing."
"Hey, I'm a creator too! What are you talking about? Do you unnies even know the agonizing pain of writing lyrics?"
"Anyway."
After hearing the whole story, Seoha stood up and sat down in front of the glowing computer screen. Deducing from Iseor's story, she figured that whatever was open on the screen must be the song Suyun had created after her sudden epiphany.
"Let's give this a listen."
"Should we?"
It was born out of pure curiosity. They didn't have any grand expectations or deep thoughts. It was just a passing whim—a desire to hear what kind of track Suyun, who had already composed countless brilliant songs, would produce after having a breakthrough.
But the moment Seoha hit the spacebar to play the track... she froze. The music coming through the speakers was more than enough to warrant that reaction.
The opening piano notes were unbelievably clean, yet profoundly sorrowful. An acoustic guitar followed, playing a delicate arpeggio that deepened the melancholic atmosphere. Then, a nostalgic keyboard pad swept in, forcing Seoha—no, not just Seoha, but everyone in the room—to share the exact same thought.
"Wait, did we open the wrong file?"
"I just played what was already open on the screen."
"Is this really Suyun's? Maybe she's just analyzing someone else's project?"
"It's... so different from her usual style..."
Just as Hyun-ah said, the track playing was completely different in direction from anything Suyun had ever made. It was so starkly different that even her own bandmates, who had listened to countless unreleased demos of hers, were left doubting their ears.
"No, looking at the project file, this is definitely Suyun's work."
Yet, the files and software open on the screen proved that no one else's hands had touched this project. It was, without a doubt, a pure creation of Ha Suyun.
'Come to think of it, that piano intro...'
Seoha felt it carried a vibe reminiscent of Faintly, But Surely. The chord progression and melody were entirely different, yet it strangely evoked the same nostalgic sensation.
"Let's keep listening."
"Yeah."
The paused music flowed from the speakers once more. The sound filling the practice room was incredibly rich and layered. The percussion swelled grandly to express a rising tide of emotion, only to fade away gently. A humming vocal line drifted in, and a guitar that had been hovering quietly in the background seamlessly stepped forward to take over the melody.
The guitar tone was completely different from the one Suyun usually favored. The way she utilized the keyboards and structured the vocal lines was also entirely new. Though she couldn't pinpoint the exact technical reasons, Seoha, having worked alongside her for years, could say with absolute certainty that this song was fundamentally different from anything Suyun had written before.
...She could say that, and yet, traces of Suyun's old self remained perfectly intact. Her bluesy guitar phrasing and various other signature elements were still there. Or rather, instead of merely remaining...
'They've evolved?'
"What would you even call a genre like this?"
"I... don't really know..."
The voices of the other two snapped Seoha out of her thoughts. It was Iseor, asking about the genre of the song.
"I'm not sure either..." Hyun-ah murmured.
"What about you, Seoha unnie?"
"Hmm..."
What *was* the genre? Seoha closed her eyes and pondered. What category could this song possibly fit into? It had a progressive rock feel, yet it possessed a strange sound and sensibility that refused to be confined by that label. Should they call it prog rock? No, making a generalization like that would be as ignorant as calling all Black music hip-hop.
"I don't know."
"Huh?"
"I really don't know. I have no idea what to call this. At least, within the limits of my knowledge, nothing comes to mind."
After thinking it over a few more times, Seoha answered Iseor's question. She had no choice. With her current musical vocabulary, defining this piece of music was an impossible task.
"You said Suyun was planning to bring this for the collaboration, right?"
"Yeah."
Because of that, Seoha felt a twinge of envy.
"I mean, it already sounds like this as a rough demo. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of music will come out once she collaborates with them and finishes it."
She was envious that a song like this would be completed by hands other than their own. Because this was a track that any musician in a band would absolutely covet... a song that would likely mark the birth of an entirely new genre.