Concert Session
“Enjoy your meal.”
“Yeah, you too.”
They exchanged the usual pleasantries before scooping up a bite of rice. The meal proceeded in comfortable silence—nothing like the awkward, nail-biting tension of their first few dinners together. Now, it felt almost routine.
“Concert's this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Think your mom could come?”
“I'll check on the guest tickets.”
Lee Hyein beamed at Myeongjeon's reply. “Thanks~”
He gave an embarrassed chuckle and dug back into his food. A big spoonful of rice, a bite of veggies and kimchi.
Man, I've been craving food way more lately.
Her portions had definitely gotten bigger. But her weight hadn't budged much. Growth spurt? Sure, high schoolers went through that. Myeongjeon never gave a damn about her looks, but physique and stamina? Those she cared about plenty.
The guitars and gear built for 'Seo Myeongjeon's' 180cm-plus frame just weren't practical in 'Ha Suyeon's' body. No way around it.
If only I could hit 170cm. That'd be perfect—not too much, not too little.
She was running 5km daily, doing grip strengtheners, basic bodyweight exercises... but breaking physical limits took more than that. That's why she kept asking Iseo to “Grab this for me”—watching her bandmate effortlessly hoist gear always sparked a twinge of envy.
Does that girl work out on the side or something?
Iseo's build was a mystery. Myeongjeon knew her schedule inside out from coaching—zero time for gym sessions. Yet she had the height, the strength, the... body? Whatever. Genes, probably. Hyein wasn't tall either, so Suyeon likely topped out the same.
“By the way, don't you guys make stuff like that?”
“Like what?”
“Albums and such. I hear you've been composing left and right, but Mom's never heard your songs.”
Album.
Myeongjeon mulled the word over. Hadn't crossed her mind much since bombing that grant application. But...
It'd be necessary, yeah.
Her songs were scattered—rough demos on YouTube at best, and even those had evolved. Fans at Paradox kept asking, “Why don't you play that one?” Time to compile them. For smooth fan consumption, promo, the works. A real step forward as a band.
Even for future auditions, showing up with an EP would carry more weight.
“We've got plans to make one.” Myeongjeon shared her thoughts as she replied to Hyein, who lit up with delight.
“Tell Mom when it's official. I've got plans brewing too.”
“...Pardon?”
Myeongjeon scratched her chin at the cryptic tease. What plans? Not some solo concert for promo, right?
“That's the last one.”
The performance wrapped. Everyone braced for the routine: feedback, then replay. But as Suyeon stood, mic in hand, her opening line threw them off.
“Thanks for all your hard work these past few weeks. Strings: Park Ji-hwan, Kim Hyeok-su, Lee Ji-yeon...”
She named each one, coaxing applause. Cheers rained down on them individually—some teary-eyed, some grinning, some relieved. It was inevitable. She'd treated these session pros like her own band.
“Strings! That sour note in the last run? I told you that's not the vibe.”
“We're charging in here—no time for rhythm guitar dinging along like ding-ding-ding. Hit it like zang-zang-zang—full throttle!”
“Juhyeon just ripped that high-note ad-lib, right? Back it up! Make the background explode. Everything else nailed it, but keyboards aren't delivering.”
“Session band's whole point is ad-libs. Some match, some stick to script like 'whatever.' Others wobble like uh-uh-uh. It's falling apart! We're a band—Juhyeon's first session-band concert ever. Differentiation means nailing ad-libs. Follow first—I'll cover the mess.”
Her feedback hit like a tidal wave, backed by overwhelming skill. A few pushed back at first, but logic and prowess drowned them. Hollow stares lingered... but not for long.
“A bit more there. Okay—your fingers are too stiff. Like this... stretch 'em out. Relax the elbow.”
“Ad-lib wrong: not tung-tung-tung. Swing it lightly. Got it? Jazz vibe here—we'll lock in. Go bold.”
No clue how she did it—feedback for every instrument, every part. Follow it, and skills improved like magic. No wonder the sessions revered her... borderline worshipped her. Took no time at all.
“And our band's drummer Yoo Seoha, keyboardist Jeong Hyeona, bassist Choi Iseo—all of you, great work... I hate drawn-out goodbyes turning into awkward bows and forced drinks, so here's your send-off. Head out after practice. Clean split.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Nothing more to add. You all busted ass—thanks. Wrap rehearsals sharp, see you at soundcheck. One last run with Juhyeon to close...”
Unlike Suyeon's hopes, no instant dispersal. They swarmed her instead.
“Teacher, we'll keep in touch!”
“Got a project brewing...”
“I'll recommend you for sure.”
“My daughter's starting guitar—lessons available??”
“Session gigs for whole bands??”
Suyeon handed out cards, looking flustered. Iseo watched, amused. She'd started all “just half-ass it.” Now? Full teacher mode, reaping the whirlwind.
After ten more minutes, they finally scattered. Iseo grinned as she approached. “You're blowing up.”
“Kill me.”
More work should thrill her, but Suyeon's face soured. Overbooked already?
“Swamped lately. Got time, it'd be fine. School, side gigs pouring in... all paying work, so yeah. But silver lining...”
She flashed a business card. Standard session musician fare—but flip side:
[Rare Instruments & Effects Retail/Wholesale]
“Scored this at least.”
“What's it for?”
“My—er, Teacher Myeongjeon's effects. Figured they could source one or two?”
Seyoon and Sehyun were Juhyeon fans. Well... Seyoon the diehard; Sehyun mostly dragged along because “Sis gets lonely (bored).”
Today, both were jittery. Seyoon fretted over Juhyeon's first “session band concert” flopping. Sehyun dreaded a trainwreck sending Sis into a home-wrecking rage.
“It'll go fine, right?”
“Yeah, pros are pros. Chill.”
“But Oppa gets scammed on lives all the time. What if weirdos conned him into this band nonsense?”
Sehyun swallowed the retort—Like some school play? No point; it'd just earn a smack.
“He's a vet singer. Hard to scam.”
“You know scams hit when you're off-guard. Maybe Oppa's...”
Seyoon rambled needless worries en route to the venue. Long lines for ID-ticket cross-checks to curb scalpers. While waiting, she scrolled updates.
Everyone echoed her fears. Seyoon pocketed her phone.
Worst case, Oppa covers any band screw-ups, right?
She didn't know bands thrived on ad-lib freedom. Juhyeon aced MR tracks perfectly—unleashed ad-libs? Thrilling prospect...
“Your face screams murder. Dial it back?”
Sehyun's jab snapped her out. Line shortened. Past the gates: wide-open venue.
“Time for bigger spots.”
“It's strategy—scarcity builds buzz...”
“Shut it!”
She silenced the rumor-monger and claimed their seats: front row, off-corner. Perfect view of the “session band” chatter.
MC bounded out. “Hello, everyone!! Welcome, proud fans of this era's top singer, Juhyeon!!”
Cheesy hype. Seyoon just thought, Bring out Oppa already.
Session band trickled on. “Yo, band's here.”
“Not ancient relics? Aren't band folks usually old... Huh?”
Sehyun pointed stage-left: four girls, clearly underage, filing in. Staff? Nope—they took front spots.
“What?”
“Shorties?”
Seyoon eyed them. Even the tall one looked young; others moreso.
“Teens in a band...? No way. Gotta be a scam.”
“Right? Oppa's concerts were killing it—sudden switch screams con.”
Genius abounds, sure. Juhyeon was a child prodigy (fan cafe lore). But not everyone onstage was. Hard to buy these kids outshining their age.
Just don't tank the show.
Praying for immersion in this rare solo concert—no disasters. Hours later... oblivious to the new faves awaiting her.