Open Mic "How??"
"How??"
Iseo stared at Suyeon. That unwavering, resolute gaze made it clear this wasn't just some offhand comment.
"There are two options. First, we could add a bass solo line to the two original songs we've got. But honestly, I don't think that's the way to go."
"Why not?"
"For starters, these songs weren't built around the bass. Sure, we could rearrange them to emphasize it more or throw in a bass solo, but it'd be a ton of work. And tweaking one part might force us to overhaul the whole track."
Myeongjeon wasn't under the delusion that his compositions had some perfect balance that would collapse if you touched a single note. But overhauling entire lines often snowballed into massive revisions. If it went smoothly, great—but more often, you'd end up with something feeling just a little off here and there, until you lost track of what the hell the song even was.
"Plus, even if we pulled it off, I doubt it'd make much impact."
"Then what's the second option?"
"Pick a different cover. One that's bass-heavy."
The song they'd chosen so far was Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses, with a bit of Seoha's taste mixed in. They were making progress, but it wasn't fully locked in yet.
"If we tighten up the schedule, it's doable."
"Then wouldn't the second option be better?"
"Having time to practice doesn't mean we can nail it perfectly in that time," Seoha replied to Hyeona's question. Myeongjeon agreed.
"She's right. That's the issue. We might not get enough practice."
Having time to rehearse didn't equal mastering it flawlessly. Sure, Myeongjeon could memorize it in that window and have days to spare, but the others? Not a chance.
"If we stick with the current cover and grind it out, we'll hit decent quality. We might even infuse our own flavor beyond just covering it. But that's the ideal scenario. If we jumped onstage right now? It'd be pretty lackluster."
Myeongjeon looked at Iseo. The more he spoke, the heavier her expression grew.
"But if we switch to a new song... I've got a couple in mind, roughly. Anyway, if we pick something fresh and it doesn't click—if it doesn't hit stage-ready quality—we're screwed. No turning back."
"So... that means it's too risky. Maybe we should just stick to the plan..."
Iseo's mumble-like complaint drew a headshake from Myeongjeon.
"Nah, that's not what I mean."
Iseo might've taken it that way, but that wasn't his intent. He was aiming at something else entirely.
"If that's what I thought, I'd just tell you to tough it out. That your skills are plenty good enough already. No need for all this talk. Right? What's the point of warning about the risks upfront, then saying you can't hack it anyway?"
Iseo listened quietly. What was Suyeon really getting at? She pointed out the downsides, rejected giving up... so what was she supposed to do?
"Up till now... I've been leading you all as the leader. You didn't know better, didn't have strong opinions. But for this band to really work, everyone needs their own voice."
"Their own voice?"
Suyeon tilted her head slightly at Iseo's question.
"I'm not saying pipe up with opposition every time or steer the band your way. But if you've got a direction you want, you gotta speak up before we lock in a decision."
Bands that crashed because voices got ignored or overvalued? Plenty, East or West. Sure, good results could paper over a messy process—but the interpersonal cracks from it? Those sank everything eventually.
Why did Pink Floyd break up? Roger Waters cranked out hit after hit, dragged them to success, but the others couldn't stomach the dictator vibe.
"If you've got a path you wanna chase, make your voice heard. Others might show you what it leads to. But no one decides for you—you gotta claim it yourself."
Myeongjeon's firm words left Iseo deep in thought. Hyeona eyed her worriedly; Seoha stayed neutral, like she'd been waiting for this.
"If we go new, does that scrap Sweet Child O' Mine?"
"Not totally... but who knows. I was planning to table this convo for later, honestly."
Myeongjeon ruffled his hair in response to Seoha's question. In his mind, giving these kids their own voices might be premature. Better to charge straight for success without zigzagging. But...
That'd kill the fun.
If he wanted solo control, why form a band? He could've handled everything himself, hired session players for bass and such. But he'd sworn off that life the day he woke up. Music for the joy of it. Auditions, YouTube, success? Side quests at best.
"So, I think we should try it. I wanna show what I can do... I've practiced my ass off. But here I am, stewing over internet comments."
"Mm. Everyone cool with that?"
Myeongjeon tossed the question to the other two at Iseo's declaration. Nods all around.
"Practice'll be way tougher. Real risk of bombing the gig."
"Eh, if we flop, there's always next time! Our skills aren't going anywhere!"
"Fair point."
What Myeongjeon had learned over decades: Life, bands, music—you played the long game. No "must-do-right-now" moments existed. Unique, once-in-a-lifetime shots? Myth.
"So, what song?"
"Got one in mind. Might not be your taste, but to outsiders? It'll scream 'these kids got skills.'"
Suyeon grinned. Iseo felt a chill—time to suffer vibes.
Club Paradox. Over 30 years since opening, one of Hongdae's proud live music staples... and a rite of passage for rookies. They'd take any band, any genre—acoustic one night, rap metal the next, J-rock after that, death metal whenever. Regulars called it a "total clusterfuck," but that's what made it magnetic.
And lately, Paradox had the Hongdae band scene—and newbie superfans—buzzing.
All for the rookie band Group Sound, set to debut at tonight's open mic.
"Why no booze? I came for beer!!"
"First act's an all-girls high school band, so no alcohol till they're done."
"High school girls performing? Holy shit."
Patrons stumbling in blind, hit with the news. Or...
"Uh... this Paradox?"
"Yup~"
First-timers dipping toes into the scene. Or...
"They're playing tonight?"
"Yeah. Checked the timetable."
Hardcore vets praying for a new wave. All sorts, all hyped for Paradox's open mic kickoff.
And one more group, waiting in the wings.
"Argh!! Fuck, I'm losing it. So nervous!"
"No need to go that far..."
Iseo plucked her bass frantically, then yelped. Hyeona jumped, whispering back.
Myeongjeon chuckled, glancing stage-side. Solid crowd for open mic—not packed, but 70-80 heads.
"Everyone set?"
Mid-chat, a knock. In walks a guy—weather-beaten look, screaming "metal fan!!" with his outfit.
"Yep, we're good."
The owner flashed an OK sign at Myeongjeon's reply.
"Run this place damn near 30 years, never had a high school girl band. Got a visit from the cops thanks to you. No booze till you're off."
"For real? Damn, we could've boosted sales~ Shame, huh?"
The rest nodded at Iseo's quip. Owner smirked too.
"Three songs, 30 minutes as discussed. Five including setup. Pace yourselves, chat with the crowd, drop some MC. Sell yourselves. That vibe."
He explained the flow, then hesitated, eyeing Myeongjeon.
"Something wrong?"
"Uh, you really Teacher Myeongjeon's student...?"
Again? Myeongjeon eyed the ceiling instead of answering. Lately, every guitarist he met hit him with this. Frustrating as hell. Was he Van Gogh? Why the postmortem shock? Listen while I'm alive, damn it. Though they'd probably trash it anyway: "Seo Myeongjeon's stuff is mid??" Predictable.
"Got it."
Reading the room, the owner bowed out like he'd cracked a code. Kids shot curious looks; Myeongjeon ignored them.
"Hello, we're Group Sound. Nice to meet you. First time sharing the stage with you all. Actually, this is our first real stage ever—school gig was one, anime event the other."
Showtime. Iseo helped Hyeona and Seoha set up, side-eyeing Suyeon MCing smoothly. Fielding crowd questions, buying setup time.
"You're so pretty!!"
"Pretty? Thanks. Aren't high school girls supposed to be? Golden years and all. Objectively, yeah, I'm a looker—no denying it. Anyway, rumors brought a crowd despite our short set. We'll do our best not to disappoint."
Setup done. Iseo grabbed her bass, stepped front to the monitor wedge.
Someone yelled, "Bassist's hot too!!" Iseo bowed thanks.
Fingers hovered, mind replaying tonight's set. Tough on stamina, but not insanely hard. Bass presence? Off the charts.
She focused. World faded like drowning—crowd noise dimmed. Ignored Suyeon's chatter; it was buying her space.
Pre-show, Suyeon had said about the opener:
"Cover first."
"For bass impact, shouldn't it close?"
"Pure shock value? Sure."
Suyeon spun her pen; it landed on the A4 timetable.
"But then the first two originals? Crowd thinks 'meh bass' and tunes out. Nah, lead with the cover. Bigger picture: We're here for band promo and experience. Not your solo showcase. Don't forget."
Iseo had nodded. Spot on. They were selling Group Sound, after all.
MC wrapped. Silence fell.
Then drumsticks clacked—count-in.
But this opener? It's my stage.
Cue hit. Iseo ripped into the bass—raw power. A 16th-note barrage of intense fuzz-tone bass line exploded from the speakers, shaking the floor.