The Master's Faded Notebook

The memorial performance continued without pause. Just as one song seemed to draw to a close, the girl launched straight into another. Two pieces that felt like a single entity, yet utterly contrasting. Their structures were similar, hinting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at some pivotal event and the transformation it wrought. A sticky farewell to the clinging past, a hymn to the new future ahead. The rippling guitar tones sang on ceaselessly for several minutes before finally drifting into silence.

Right before thunderous applause could erupt, the girl raised a hand slightly.

"Sorry, but there's one more song left. Applause after, please."

Suyeon walked over, picked up the electric guitar again, and adjusted the amp settings. In the hush laced with anticipation, the guitar sounds began to weave in gradually.

"This is..."

Junhong narrowed his eyes. The one song by Teacher Myeongjeon that had made it into karaoke machines. Something he'd only rarely witnessed the man singing during drunken group outings to noraebang.

It was a plain old blues number. The style never laid sorrow bare. Beyond faint glimmers of emotion, it was just upbeat guitar and drums.

To Junhong, most songs from that era felt the same. Though he'd never lived through it himself...

Maybe they believed even gut-wrenching grief would eventually bury itself in the sands of time and vanish. Or perhaps they thought maturity meant never showing it.

At the very least, Teacher Myeongjeon had seemed to think that way. A man who played sad songs without a trace of sadness, faithfully following the old ways. One who revered the past and shunned the future.

But that girl is different.

She expresses emotions boldly and honestly. A performance and vocals like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠raging torrents. Soaring regret. The blazing remorse turns to ash before long.

What she'd seen that morning might have just been a bird outside her house.

People simply closed their eyes and listened.

"Thank you."

Suyeon came down after finishing the song. During the concert break, a crowd swarmed her, peppering her with chatter.

"That was amazing!!" "How long have you been playing guitar?" "Our country's future looks bright."

And so on. He gave short answers to all the questions or brushed them off with a smile as he headed to the waiting room.

But the talk drifting from the waiting room was a different flavor from before. While most praised Ha Suyeon's guitar skills and Seo Myeongjeon's teaching prowess, a few voices dripped with suspicion.

"Did Myeongjeon hyung really compose that?" "Wasn't it her?"

Doubts like that, or snide remarks like, "She's awfully devoted to her master."

The skepticism was natural. Who wouldn't doubt it? A guy who'd shown zero composing talent for decades suddenly takes on a disciple right before dying, awakens, and churns out decent songs? Hard to swallow.

For ordinary folks, maybe believable. But these were musicians. They knew how unlikely that was.

Easier to assume the old master got greedy in his twilight years and stole his disciple's work.

"Miss. I'm really sorry, but this isn't about slandering your master. Just hear me out calmly."

An old musician who'd once been close to Seo Myeongjeon in their youth but later clashed with him. With a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trembling voice, he posed the question to Suyeon.

"Did Myeongjeon really compose those songs?"

His eyes held an unspoken accusation: Didn't you make them, or at least meddle?

Suyeon smiled faintly in response.

"Yes."

From her guitar, she pulled out a thoroughly worn composition notebook. Whether it was truly Seo Myeongjeon's handwriting was hard to say... but it brimmed with an archaic script steeped in years of learning and age.

"He didn't complete them entirely. See here? Lots of parts differ from what I sang. And here, here too."

The spots Suyeon pointed to were indeed the ones she'd altered in performance—round, bubbly handwriting screaming "high school girl script."

But the main melody? Untouched from start to finish.

"The other songs are the same. My changes were minor."

"Had you ever heard he'd composed these? When?"

"No, never separately. This notebook itself..."

Suyeon gestured to her guitar case. A hidden secret pocket inside.

"I pulled it from there. Had no idea anything was in it. When I heard about the Seo Myeongjeon memorial concert, I rummaged around and found it."

Suyeon gazed at the notebook as she spoke. Faded with age. Her eyes reddened slightly, and those watching recalled someone's final years.

Years walked down the wrong path. Arrogant early days convinced of his own righteousness. Middle years sensing something off but refusing to admit it. Late years realizing there was no turning back.

And in those final days, he took a disciple, spurred by her talent. Stepping off the path he'd trod for decades, he secretly composed new songs in stolen moments.

But they never saw the light in his lifetime. The master died, and the songs wandered lost in darkness.

Until the disciple unearthed them and played them here.

Until the very one who'd inspired them performed them.

Someone drew a sharp breath. Others yawned widely as if nothing, blinked hard, or discreetly wiped their eyes.

Somehow, there were many like that. And amid them, Suyeon smiled faintly.

Like reminiscing her master's end.

Did I go too far?

At first, it was just to say, "Even so, his composing wasn't half bad." What good is fretting over a dead man's honor? Still, since Seo Myeongjeon was him, it was fair to be miffed.

But the current fallout had long surpassed his intent. Most old-timers streaming on YouTube or posting videos were saying things like, "We underrated Myeongjeon. Seeing those late songs makes me wish he'd just stayed alive longer. Miss him."

If he'd stayed alive, he never could've written them...

Myeongjeon closed the laptop and scratched his head.

Looking back, as Seo Myeongjeon, his mind had been a bit rigid. This genre calls for this vibe, so write it this way. Even if something fresh popped up mid-flow, Nah, not what I wanted—scrap it, back to the original plan. Rinse and repeat.

But as Ha Suyeon, fused with this girl's innate creativity and talent... whatever. His thinking had softened. Things that once felt off or unpalatable now clicked.

So the songs he'd shown at the Seo Myeongjeon memorial were ones possible only as Ha Suyeon.

Songs Seo Myeongjeon never could've written.

Well, water under the bridge now.

That aside, Myeongjeon lately felt impulsive in ways he wouldn't have before.

If this girl's talent influences me, does her personality rub off too?

Myeongjeon pondered, laptop closed. Entirely plausible.

"Ha Suyeon!"

A shoulder smack jolted Myeongjeon awake with a "Guhk."

His music teacher glared down, while Dain snickered beside her, looking smug.

"Even so, sleeping so blatantly isn't cool, right?"

"Uh... ah... Sorry."

Myeongjeon bowed deeply once, then clutched the music textbook.

Did high schoolers still study music these days? Weren't they swamped with college entrance exams and all? Everyone else was slacking off too—why pick on me?

"Next class, we'll do instrument performance evaluations. Pick from the songs I assigned. No instrument? Recorder or danso. If you play something, bring it."

Toward the end of class, the music teacher announced that.

While Myeongjeon thought, Guess I'll grab a recorder and toot it... Dain was buzzing with excitement.

"Suyeon, bring your guitar and play!"

"Why would I."

"Huh, really? Heh heh lololol."

Dain had figured Suyeon would jump at the chance to show off. But the response was ice-cold. Zero interest in her eyes.

"Come on, why not! Time to shine."

"Too much hassle... Guitar's heavy as hell, and it's not like I need the points that bad."

Do I really have to go that far... Myeongjeon muttered inwardly.

But Dain showed no sign of backing off until she got her way...