24 - School Trip (2)
24 - School Trip (2)
24.
“Sounds fun.”
At Yoon Hajun’s proposal, Won Seongmin replied with an intrigued expression. Hajun smiled. As expected. In Seongmin’s school days, Fun Real was at their prime. There was no way a composition major like him wouldn’t know Fun Real.
After thinking for a moment, Seongmin asked, “If we arrange ‘flyaway,’ how exactly do you want it? A completely different vibe?”
“That might be a bit difficult.”
To change the vibe entirely, they’d have to rebuild the song’s core structure—and there wasn’t enough time. More importantly, if the arrangement changed too much, “flyaway” would lose all of its strengths.
“I want to keep that exciting feeling from ‘flyaway,’ but also give it a slightly chest-swelling, emotional lift.”
“Chest-swelling?”
“Do you know the song ‘Everything’?”
“You mean Fun Real’s song?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“That kind of feeling.”
Seongmin nodded in understanding.
“Everything” was the opening theme of a popular anime, sung by Fun Real. Both the anime and the song were incredibly beloved. And the key feature of “Everything” was that simply listening to it made your chest burn—it made you feel pumped up. It was so powerful that some esports players even used it as their theme song.
“Then we should raise the volume of the electric guitar and drums. Can I handle the guitar arrangement?”
“Of course. Ah, and for the intro, I want to start completely a cappella. What do you think?”
“A cappella?”
“Yeah. Start with just vocals, no backing at all. Then later bring in the instruments—drums hit hard!—and the guitar kicks in.”
“Ohhh.”
Just thinking about it seemed exciting to Seongmin. Hajun and Seongmin discussed the arrangement with more energy than usual, clearly enjoying themselves.
Kim Taeyoung watched them.
He had tagged along because Hajun said he knew someone who could help with the arrangement—but now he felt like he was in a completely different world.
Where am I? Who are these people? Why am I here?
While he was questioning reality, Seongmin looked at him and asked, “Could you sing something for me? I need to hear how you sing so I can tailor the arrangement.”
“Ah, yes.”
According to Hajun, this guy was quite famous—and he was a Seolwon senior. So Taeyoung obediently nodded and stood.
“Any song you want to sing? Preferably a rock ballad.”
“Then… ‘Blank Space.’”
“‘Blank Space’… that’s a Fishel song, right?”
“Yes.”
Seongmin operated the studio equipment and played the track. Taeyoung began to sing along.
Seongmin watched with clear interest. He had expected decent vocals since Hajun brought him—but this was above expectations.
“He’s good.”
“Right?” Hajun said proudly.
Taeyoung’s singing ability was undeniable. His high notes were strong, and his vocal style was refreshing and exhilarating—the kind that hypes people up. Most importantly, Taeyoung genuinely enjoyed singing. Because of that, his live performances were better than the recordings.
Come to think of it, Taeyoung was always cheerful. He never seemed to dislike anything—he enjoyed everything. He even said he quit piano and entered the Practical Music Department because singing was fun.
But Hajun didn’t believe that.
A child prodigy on piano since young, winning competitions until just last year… suddenly quits piano?
And Hajun had seen it himself—Taeyoung staring blankly at the piano in the practice room. Not once. Many times. There was definitely a reason he quit.
But Hajun didn’t ask. As annoying as Taeyoung could be, he was still a friend. If there was a story behind it—and if Taeyoung ever wanted to share it—he would say it himself.
“Sigh.”
Hajun let out a small sigh.
Why was there not a single normal person around him?
§ § §
The reason he asked Senior Won Seongmin to handle the “flyaway” arrangement wasn’t simply to freeload.
…Well, saying that wasn’t a reason would be a lie.
But there was a bigger reason. He wanted to learn by watching him arrange.
Seongmin was the guitarist of Blue Aka, and also their composer. Every Blue Aka song was created by him—composition, arrangement, production. All of it. And Blue Aka’s music was celebrated for its artistic quality. So of course, Seongmin’s skills were exceptional. He had already walked the path Hajun wanted to take.
Until now, Hajun only received guitar and piano lessons from him, but honestly, what he really wanted from Seongmin was producing lessons. And now, the perfect opportunity had come.
After classes, instead of going to the practice room with Taeyoung, they would go to Haul Studio. There, they’d discuss everything with Seongmin and watch him arrange—learning in the process.
“If we’re starting a cappella, the first impact after that becomes extremely important.”
“That’s why I want to enter with drums instead of bass.”
“Hm… but there’s an even better way.”
“A better way?”
“Guitar.”
Seongmin grinned. Then he stood up and slung a guitar over his shoulder. Hajun watched intently.
Seongmin lightly tuned the guitar and said, “I tried arranging it by myself while you were at school. Give it a listen.”
“Yes.”
To watch Blue Aka’s guitarist perform right in front of him—Hajun felt overwhelmed with emotion.
Then the performance began.
“Whoa.”
As soon as the music started, Taeyoung gasped. Seongmin’s fingers moved so fast they were practically invisible. It was Hajun’s first time seeing Seongmin play electric guitar. During lessons, he always used acoustic.
But Seongmin’s main instrument wasn’t acoustic. It was electric guitar. And right now, he was showing exactly why he was considered a world-class guitarist.
“That guy is seriously famous, huh…”
“Told you. He was known as a guitar prodigy.”
“…Prodigy, huh.”
Taeyoung made a bitter face. Hajun quietly looked away.
Seongmin finished the performance and spoke to Hajun. “So after you sing four bars a cappella, this riff comes in right away. What do you think?”
“It’s great.”
Taeyoung answered first.
The arranging process progressed easily. Hajun would explain, Seongmin would immediately understand, and as they discussed implementation, Taeyoung would test it by singing. At this pace, the arrangement would be finished in two days at most.
“Oh right. Did you hear about Han Goyo?”
During a short break, while sipping an Americano, Taeyoung asked.
Goyo?
Now that he thought about it, since agreeing to join the class battle, he hadn’t seen her.
“No. Why?”
“She’s been working with Kang Seonghun lately.”
“Oh?”
Han Goyo and Kang Seonghun, huh. Well, Seonghun had been obsessed with working with her. But the two didn’t really suit each other. Their compatibility… wasn’t great.
“Seonghun will probably write some girl group-style song.”
“Most likely.”
“…She’s gonna have a rough time.”
To build a girl-group stage with Han Goyo… poor guy.
“But why did you suddenly decide to join the class battle?”
“Hm? Oh, guess I never told you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Hey—if we get first place… could you give me the festival slot?”
“The festival slot?”
Taeyoung frowned. He looked troubled, so Hajun added, “Of course, I’m not asking for free.”
“Then?”
“I’ll write you a song.”
“For real?”
Taeyoung looked at him doubtfully. Has this guy been scammed his whole life?
Hajun put on his most reliable expression. “For real.”
“Okay. Deal.”
Hajun had planned to write Taeyoung a song eventually anyway. It was time to expand his range.
All the songs he had made so far had a similar mood—dark, tearful, melancholic. And that wasn’t because of Suyeon’s unique vocal tone. It was fundamentally his own problem.
To be exact, it was the problem with his past compositions. Every song he’d worked on in this life was an arrangement of something he had written in his previous life. And back then—all he ever wrote was despair. Self-hatred, pessimism, inferiority. That’s what he expressed in music.
It hadn’t been that way from the start. Repeated failures had twisted him that way. Anyway, because of that, even if he tried to arrange things more brightly, there were limits. The foundation itself was too gloomy.
Even “Runaway,” their first recorded song, had a strong “escaping reality” vibe.
But he needed to break out of that now. For Suyeon. And for himself. He had to learn to write other genres too.
Seolwon was perfect for that. It was full of students who could sing above average. Working with them would naturally expand his musical spectrum.
“So why the festival? Gonna audition or something?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Composers generally fall into two categories: freelancers and in-house entertainment composers. But Hajun had no intention of joining any company. The biggest reason he composed was Suyeon.
“I just… have a kind of stage I want to try.”
§ § §
The arrangement of “flyaway” was completed. To be honest, Seongmin’s arrangement was stunning. He managed to take an already great song and push it even further.
“I learned a lot.”
“Oh please. You’ve still got plenty more to learn.”
“…True.”
Seongmin must have noticed his intentions. Such a considerate person. He saved the final arrangement to a USB and handed it to Hajun.
“Too bad. I wanted to see this stage in person.”
“I’m sure there’ll be a recording. If I can get it, I’ll show you.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Yes.”
Hajun packed the USB and prepared to leave. In just three days, it would be time for the school trip. The remaining two days would be spent practicing with the final arrangement.
“Oh, by the way.”
Just as they were about to leave Haul Studio, Seongmin called out. Hajun stopped at the door and turned.
“After the school trip, could you and Taeyoung come by together? There’s something I want to talk to both of you about.”
“Sure.”
Something Seongmin wanted to say? Hajun nodded. If Seongmin asked for a favor, he wanted to repay him with everything he could. He owed Seongmin too much already.
“I’m home.”
Since the arrangement was finished, Hajun came home early for once. From inside the house, he heard Suyeon singing. Ever since receiving the “homework,” she practiced every chance she got.
Was she overdoing it? He wondered for a moment—but then remembered that Suyeon was very good at taking care of herself. Truly, a very disciplined person.
He took a quick shower, changed clothes, and lay on his bed. Then his phone buzzed. He checked the screen.
The sender was none other than—Han Goyo.
[I don’t want to dance.]
What a very Han Goyo-like message. Not just the content—even her profile was totally her. Default icon. No decorations.
He wondered how to respond, then sent a vague “cheer up” sticker. Almost immediately, a reply came.
[I want to go home.]
Then go.
[I don’t want to.]
…What does she want from me?
He sent a question mark. No reply came back. The “1” disappeared, so she had read it. Was Seonghun grilling her?
Speaking of Seonghun—he seemed to be oddly conscious of Hajun lately. Why? It’s not like their paths even overlapped. Why bother paying attention to him?
“Come to think of it… didn’t Goyo and Seonghun do the opening stage for the Practical Music Concert?”
Thinking of Seonghun reminded him of the practical music concert. The third-year graduation stage. The opening stage was performed by two first-year representatives. In his previous life, those representatives were Han Goyo and Kang Seonghun.
And he had wanted to show that stage to Suyeon anyway. Perfect.
Summer break. Practical Music Concert. Festival. Second semester Winter Festival.
Thinking through the upcoming schedule, he slowly closed his eyes.