Homework
Homework. His cheeks burned a fierce, hot red. Beads of sweat slid down from beneath his shaggy hair. It was all because of her.
“M… more water, please!”
Suhyun, who had expected nothing more than a normal level of heat, was now tasting hell itself. This wasn’t regular chicken stir-fry. At this point it deserved to be called fire chicken stir-fry.
While Suhyun panted and gasped, Hana remained perfectly calm. Looking as if she couldn’t understand why he was making such a fuss, she dabbed the sauce from the corner of her mouth with a tissue.
“When it’s spicy, eating fried rice with it helps. Want me to order some?”
Suhyun nodded frantically as he gulped down water, but he still couldn’t believe it. Mixing rice into a spicy sauce makes it less spicy? What kind of nonsense was that… But the owner had already dropped off a bowl of rice piled high with seaweed flakes. Suhyun no longer had a choice.
“Kyaa~ This is the stuff~ Ha. It’s seriously so good.”
Still, Suhyun figured he should at least try a bite. In the end he managed exactly two spoonfuls before setting his spoon down. It was impossible. He couldn’t eat any more.
“Ha. Hana.”
“Yeah?”
“Want to get some ice cream?”
Even after they left the restaurant, Suhyun’s cheeks were still flushed. Seeing him suffer so badly, Hana felt a small stab of guilt. No, but… it really wasn’t that spicy to me…
“That’ll be 2,400 won.”
Hana, who had taken the card, pressed a milk-flavored ice cream into Suhyun’s hand. She had insisted on paying this time.
“Whew…”
Sitting on the bench, Suhyun ripped the wrapper open in a hurry.
“Feeling any better?”
“Yeah. Thanks to you.”
“Let’s head back after you finish that.”
The sky was already pitch black. It had long since passed nine o’clock.
“Hey.”
Suhyun turned his body slightly toward her as though something had just occurred to him. Soft orange lamplight spilled down over the two of them.
“Seoeun mentioned it to me last time, kind of in passing.”
At the name Seoeun, Hana’s shoulders gave a tiny flinch. No way. Don’t tell me she said something weird to Suhyun… An anxious premonition brushed across her skin.
“You’re working on an original song, right?”
The tension drained from Hana at his words and she let out a short sigh.
“Ah… yeah. It’s almost finished. I was planning to play the final version for you when it was done.”
It was a song she had been preparing since last winter. Seoeun had helped, but it was safe to say Hana had composed most of it herself. The theory and melody had come almost entirely from her own head; Seoeun had mostly just asked her boyfriend about the parts Hana couldn’t solve on her own.
“Oh… what kind of song is it?”
He was genuinely curious. What sort of song would Hana write? Remembering the albums he had seen at her house, Suhyun tried to imagine the musical possibilities. Maybe something in the vein of classic hard rock? But that kind of tone would be hard for Juyeon to sing.
“Uhh… umm… agh…”
Looking like she was wrestling with something, Hana tormented the stick of her already-finished ice cream.
“Why? Is it something I shouldn’t hear?”
“…It’s not that.”
She had intended to play it for him eventually. But now that the moment had come, she felt strangely embarrassed.
Hana’s gaze settled on the tips of Suhyun’s fingers. They were slender for a man’s, yet the calluses etched into them showed exactly how hard he had practiced guitar. To someone who had listened to so many legendary bands, showing an amateur composition felt…
“…Wait a second.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at the file labeled [DEMO#TrueFinalUltraSuperFinal].
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Still, if it’s something you made, I’m sure it’ll be good…”
“No. Seriously, don’t get your hopes up.”
With her lips pressed into a tight line, Hana tapped the play button.
What flowed out was a crunchy, tightly wound guitar riff. The intro to the original song had a distinctly Japanese flavor; push it a little further and it even felt like an anime opening theme.
Suhyun listened in complete silence. The progression was fairly familiar. The palm-muting on those power chords, too. The track was packed with techniques they already used often during Spirit practices.
While Suhyun sat immersed in the music, Hana could only swallow hard and watch for his reaction.
No words. No visible response. He remained perfectly still, eyes fixed on the ground.
Only when the guitar solo in the second half began did his expression finally change. It didn’t look like a good change. The way his brows had scrunched together said everything.
When the roughly three-minute song ended, Suhyun lifted his head.
“…It’s cool?”
It was an awkward smile. And Hana was no fool.
“…Is the solo bad?”
“No? Why?”
“Just tell me the truth.”
Empty compliments like “cool” or “amazing” were useless. Especially coming from another guitarist.
“Umm… ah… I don’t know if I should say this, but…”
When someone who was usually quiet spoke like this, it was even more frightening. Hana’s front teeth gnawed at her lower lip.
“Yeah.”
“It’s bland.”
It felt like she had been smacked in the head with a rock.
“I-is that so?”
Hana stuttered—something she rarely did.
“Yeah. The structure and progression in the front are solid, but the solo feels like it lacks power…”
Suhyun, who had been carefully reading her mood, finally spoke his honest thoughts.
“Kind of disappointing…”
“Damn it.”
Anxiety became frustration. Frustration became anger. And that anger was aimed squarely at Suhyun.
“Hey! Then you do it!”
“Huh?”
“This is our band’s original song, so you make the solo and bring it back!”
Though she had shouted it in a fit of retaliation, Suhyun’s reaction was completely different from what she expected.
“…By when do you need it?”
His eyes looked like he already knew the answer.
Oh. Thank you for watching today as well.
Juyeon slowly blinked after pressing the stream end button. Twenty-one. That was how many people had stayed until nearly the end of today’s live broadcast—double her usual number. No, more than triple. Juyeon analyzed the reason. If anything had changed about today’s stream, it was the cute mint-green effects now decorating the top of her channel as a banner.
“…Is this capitalism?”
In reality, gaining about ten extra viewers couldn’t be called a miraculous transformation, but to Juyeon, who usually streamed to a tiny audience, it looked enormous.
It was all thanks to Suhyun. Because of him, the painful stretches of silence when no chats came in had grown shorter, and she felt like she had talked more than usual. In a good mood, Juyeon picked up her phone. She had to tell Suhyun this good news.
Suhyun, staring at the screen, thought, Hmm… that’s all? He had only given advice on the level of “use a spoon and chopsticks when you eat,” yet her reaction was like that of a primitive person discovering civilization for the first time. He scratched his nose, feeling a little awkward.
He honestly believed that with Juyeon’s singing ability, it wouldn’t be strange for her to have hundreds of viewers right now.
This was the real reason she had messaged him.
Juyeon thought that if Suhyun helped her again this time, she might be able to attract even more viewers.
Ever since getting home, Suhyun hadn’t let go of his guitar for a moment. Hana had been right. If he told her something was lacking, he also had to offer a solution. Simply saying it felt “bland” would only hurt her and accomplish nothing.
He had to come up with an answer, but no good lines were coming to him. His progress had stalled.
A small smile formed on Juyeon’s lips. Then… I’ll have to invite him over again, right? He seemed to like sweets, so she could prepare some snacks as thanks for his help. Last time it had been pizza, so maybe chicken this time?
Even though Suhyun hadn’t said a single word about coming over, Juyeon was already letting her imagination run wild.
She wasn’t sure she would be any help, but if it was a request from Suhyun, she was willing to try.
…It was precisely because Hana had given him this homework that he couldn’t ask her. Suhyun stroked his chin with a slightly sour expression and started recording.
Maybe an ordinary person’s ears would be better at telling which one sounded good.
Each was a short ten-second recording. Juyeon listened to them roughly three times each, then tilted her head.
“Number two is better?”
“Yeah. No matter how many times I listen, number two sounds way better.”
It would be quite some time before Suhyun learned that Juyeon possessed the “correct answer slot.”