The F Chord is F
Inside the small karaoke booth, an explosive vocal power that the cheap microphone simply couldn’t contain was rattling the walls. It wasn’t the kind of rock a band would perform, yet Park Juyeon—singing a ballad—displayed a level of vocal skill that belonged in one of those hidden-camera shows where they surprise people with real singers.
I’m sorry I couldn’t do better~
Now I’ll let you go—the you I held in my arms~
Even as she poured her heart into the song, Juyeon couldn’t shake her nerves.
Seoeun unnie… when on earth is she coming…
After Lee Suhyun had mentioned he didn’t really enjoy singing, she had already powered through five songs alone. The senior who vanished every time she got on the phone with Han Jaejun felt especially hateful today. Since there was no telling when she’d return, Juyeon couldn’t suggest they head home. And she certainly didn’t have the nerve to force Suhyun to sing.
“Now I’ll let you gooo…”
She hadn’t even jumped the instrumental break, dragging things out as long as possible. Exhaustion was written plainly across her face.
—Clap clap clap clap.
When the song ended, Suhyun clapped enthusiastically, determined to give some kind of reaction.
“That was… really good.”
The awkward atmosphere weighed on him just as heavily. Still, there was no lie in the compliment. Although they had never performed together, Suhyun—who had often heard Kim Nayong sing—could once again appreciate just how impressive Juyeon’s talent truly was. He finally understood why Lee Seoeun and Choi Kang praised her so highly. How could such a tiny frame produce that kind of overwhelming power?
The soft glow of the screen lights bathed Juyeon’s face as she clutched the microphone like a precious treasure, giving her the aura of a character who had stepped straight out of a comic.
But even this exchange of compliments was slowly running out of steam. After every song he clapped and told her she was good, and the two of them gradually found themselves with less and less to say.
“Th… thank you…”
She was fiddling with the remote, wondering what to sing next, when their savior threw the door open.
“Hey, kids! Sorry you waited so long!”
Lee Seoeun looked like she was in an even better mood than usual. The moment she stepped inside she pressed her cheek against Juyeon’s.
“Suhyun! Did you hear Juyeon sing?”
“Yeah! She was so good I was shocked.”
“Right? She’s this talented, but when I tell her to upload even a short, she says she’d rather die.”
“Well… that’s because I’m a loser…”
Seoeun stretched Juyeon’s cheeks out with practiced ease, then snatched the remote from her hand and offered it to Suhyun.
“Here! Suhyun, pick a song!”
“Huh…? You want… me to sing?”
“Yep! I’ve heard plenty of Juyeon’s songs, so today let’s just listen to one of yours and call it a night!”
The words “Can’t we just leave?” had crawled all the way up his throat, but the guilt of having made Juyeon sing alone weighed on him. Suhyun took the microphone.
At least this much…
The song he chose was the one he had caught himself humming most often in the shower lately. It was the only track whose lyrics he had completely memorized, so he stared at the screen with a trembling heart.
Standing on that street where I waited for you~
Suhyun didn’t lift his eyes from the lyrics for even a second. Only after the accompaniment had completely finished did he finally look across the room. Juyeon was clapping while sneaking glances at him; Seoeun beamed with a bright smile.
Was… was it not that bad?
“This year we’ll go without a chorus, as expected~ Yey~”
A dagger sank deep into Suhyun’s chest.
The third week of March had finally begun. Flowers that had been waiting in bud started to bloom one by one, and on the streets love songs announcing the arrival of spring played like a yearly ritual.
Last weekend hadn’t been especially busy for Suhyun, but it was the most agonizing weekend he had experienced all year. Today was the day of Spirit’s song-selection meeting.
Even in Purple Storm they had nominally put together a song list, but it was always written entirely by the vocalist Kim Nayong and brought in finished. In other words, the rest of the session musicians had no say. And even if they had, they never practiced anyway, so it was meaningless.
“Hmm…”
Standing in front of the elevator with his guitar slung over his shoulder, Suhyun stared hard at his phone screen. He had saved music-video links in his chat with himself for reference. As usual, the wild imagination circuit in his head was running at full speed.
What if they look at me with contempt and say the songs I picked are nothing special?
He had chosen them to suit his own taste, but he still had no idea what kind of color Spirit was aiming for. What genres the other members preferred, how difficult a song they could handle, whether he should consider the festival audience reaction… He should have asked about these things instead of just spouting nonsense at the drinking party!
When he reached the fifth floor where the club room was, he swallowed hard and placed his hand on the lock. He entered the password Lee Seoeun had sent him, opened the door, turned on the lights, and set his guitar down in the corner.
There were still about thirty minutes until the meeting. He had come early to avoid being late, so he sat on the sofa and listened to the songs he had prepared once more through his earphones.
It’s flashy, so they might like it. But even if the others do, I wonder if Choi Kang will.
—Tap tap tap.
While he was concentrating on reviewing the tracks again, Suhyun felt an unfamiliar touch on his shoulder and turned his head. Soft golden hair that seemed to hold sunlight caught his eye. He slowly lifted his gaze until he met the face of the hair’s owner, and recognized her instantly.
This person…
“Excuse me.”
“…Yes?”
“Who are you?”
Her tone was slightly curt.
“Ah… um… I’m… the new guitarist…”
He hadn’t noticed her entering at all, but what flustered him even more was her striking beauty. Delicate, perfectly arranged features filled her small face. Her skin was pure white, without a single blemish. Had he ever spoken to someone this pretty before? The girl in front of him had such clear, vivid looks that he would have believed her if she said she was a shopping-mall model or influencer.
“Oh? Then you’re Lee Suhyun? I think that was the name—Lee Suhyun, right?”
“Ah. Yes.”
“What? Why are you speaking formally? I remember we’re the same age.”
She gave a small laugh and held out her hand toward him.
“My name is Hana. Yoon Hana.”
Suhyun set his phone down, shot to his feet, and took her hand.
“New guitarist Lee Suhyun, nice to— I mean, yeah.”
“You’re really early. Usually I’m the first one here among the kids.”
After they finished shaking hands she set her bag down, then picked up the guitar resting on the stand as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She connected the cable and switched on the amp. Suhyun simply stood there watching her.
When the red power light came on, Yoon Hana picked up a pick and began plucking each string from top to bottom.
“This tuning’s off. Can you hand me the tuner on the desk?”
Once Suhyun brought it over, she finished tuning, turned the guitar’s volume all the way down, and stood up.
He had thought she was going to practice or play something. Suhyun felt a twinge of disappointment; he had been secretly curious about her skill.
“Hey.”
Hana stepped closer and spoke casually.
“Yeah?”
“I’m asking because I need it—could you play something for me?”
“Now?”
He had assumed the interview-like ordeal was over. At her request, Suhyun’s body went rigid.
“Ah, um… the thing is, I only know how to play one song… If that’s okay…”
“Hmm?”
Watching him stutter, Hana noticed something odd in his words. His personality and appearance matched what she had heard from Seoeun. He seemed timid like Juyeon. The long shaggy bangs that covered his eyes suggested he was committed to a rocker look. Still, he appeared passionate, which was a plus…
“What do you mean you only know one song?”
“Exactly what I said…?”
“What song?”
Since her sister wasn’t the type to lie about something like this, Hana was certain there must be a story behind it.
“It’s called Illegal Legacies…”
“Nick Brandon’s?”
“Yeah! That’s the one!”
Suhyun was surprised she knew such an obscure instrumental track, but Hana was far more astonished. Nick Brandon was not an easy guitarist to copy. To put it bluntly, he was an artist amateurs could almost never play perfectly. He was famous among guitarists for using the most bizarre techniques—upright yet insanely fast, flashy performances.
“Uh… really? Then why don’t you give it a try?”
“Can I… use my own guitar?”
“Of course. It’s yours—why would you need my permission?”
Suhyun unplugged the cable, plugged it into his own guitar, and tried to steady his pounding heart. He had to pull himself together.
I can do this. I’ve done it before. Why am I so nervous?
Seeing him grip the pick like he was praying, Hana tried to ease his tension.
“I’m just trying to get a sense of how far you can go, so relax.”
Just trying to get a sense of how far you can go. The phrase echoed in his head. It dragged up the memory of failing the academy level test in middle school—an instant trauma trigger.
“…I’ll try.”
The advantage of practicing the same song for dozens of hours, hundreds of times, was that the body remembered the movements. The influence of conscious thought or daily condition became negligible; only trained muscle memory remained. Regardless of how much Suhyun’s heart was trembling, his fingers moved on their own, somehow managing the bizarre stretches in perfect time.
“Whoa…”
As Hana watched, she felt both admiration for his skill and a powerful sense of cognitive dissonance. How could someone play a song this difficult at that level yet claim it was the only one he knew? Nothing about it added up.
The performance raced toward its finale. Suhyun was completely absorbed and no longer aware of her presence. If I can just get through this part!
In the end, just like always, he butchered the final five seconds. Once again, he couldn’t hide his regret.
Ah… when will I finally be able to play this part properly?
Still, he didn’t think it had been that bad, so he glanced at Hana to read her reaction. The first words that left her puzzled face were completely unexpected.
“Want to try playing an F chord?”
Unfortunately, that instruction did not exist in Suhyun’s manual.