Bassist Wanted
I thought college would change at least something. Lectures would end and I'd drink with friends; on a fine day I'd sit out on the lawn and let the hours go. If someone caught my eye along the way, I might even start dating.
Two years of showing up had taught me exactly one thing.
Stay still, and nothing happens.
"What are you doing today?"
I asked as I stuffed my major textbook into my bag. The classmate beside me checked his phone.
"A date."
"Didn't you have one yesterday?"
"You ate yesterday, so you're not eating today?"
He had a point, which only made it more irritating. I gave him a halfhearted wave and left the lecture hall. Two in the afternoon—too early to head home, and nothing to do if I stayed on campus.
I bought a triangle kimbap—one of those packed rice triangles—at the Student Hall Convenience Store and was heading out when a sheet on the bulletin board caught my eye.
Only that last word had been written enormous. The other posters had performance photos and proper club introductions pinned up with them. This one was a handful of words on white paper, and even the contact number had been scrawled in ballpoint.
Bass.
In high school I'd been in a band with some friends for a little while. Three of them wanted guitar and nobody wanted bass, so I took it. I wasn't anything special, but I could get through a few easy songs start to finish, and the instrument I'd used back then was still in my room.
I took out my phone. If I went home, I'd only game until I fell asleep anyway.
The instant I hit send, the unread 1 vanished.
I stopped mid-chew.
There was no answer to that.
I knocked on the door at the far end of the fourth floor of the Student Hall.
A short curse came from inside. A moment later the door opened.
"Bass?"
A woman with long blonde hair spilling down looked up at me. Yellow-amber eyes swept my face and stopped on my empty hands. She had a checked shirt thrown over a white T-shirt, and an electric guitar hung from the strap across her shoulder.
"Yes. I'm Lee Dohyun. I texted."
"Instrument?"
"It's at home. You didn't say to bring it today."
"......Come in for now."
The door opened wider.
Two more people were in the cramped club room—a girl eating snacks in front of the drums, and a girl on the sofa looking at a laptop. I glanced around once more.
"Haven't the others come yet?"
"Everyone's here."
The woman who had shut the door was the one who answered.
"Han Yerin. Sociology, junior. Guitar."
"I'm Yoon Seoa. Korean Language and Literature, junior. I do vocals and keyboards."
The woman on the sofa waved. Over by the drums, a snack bag rustled.
"Jeong Daeun. Physical Education, freshman. You can drop the formalities with me."
Three women. And me.
Up until I'd answered that recruitment text, I hadn't pictured anything like this. Maybe college was about to change a little after all.
I was still on that thought when Han Yerin pointed at a corner.
"Didn't bring your instrument? Then move those."
Three cardboard boxes were stacked on an amp.
"Where to?"
"Storage next door. Door's open."
That was the first day.
Two weeks later, I felt a little differently about it.
"Dohyun. Water."
Han Yerin held out a hand without looking up from the sheet music. The bottle was right behind her chair.
"It's behind you."
"So hand it over."
I stopped where I was and picked it up.
Would her hand break if she grabbed it herself?
Han Yerin took the bottle, set it aside, and turned her eyes to my bass.
"You tune?"
"I was about to."
"Do that first when you come in. Don't make people wait."
I glanced at the wall clock. A full ten minutes still remained before the time we'd agreed on.
And she was the one who'd stopped me to ask for water.
"It isn't even practice time yet."
"Better if you get it done ahead."
Anything more and I'd be the only one worn out. I dragged a chair over and sat. I hadn't noticed on the first day, too busy looking at faces, but this one had a way of making every other sentence grate. If she were like this with everyone, I could have written it off as her personality.
"Seoa. How's your throat today?"
"Yeah. Better than yesterday."
"Don't push it. If it isn't there, we'll just lock in the accompaniment."
Look at that. She knew perfectly well how to talk to someone, and she only ever spoke like this to me.
I plugged in the cable and finished tuning. Jeong Daeun clicked her sticks together, and Han Yerin resettled her hands on the guitar.
She could play. I had no choice but to admit it. Guitar laid itself over the drums, the keyboard came in underneath, and for a little while even the irritation I'd walked in with was simply gone. I plucked in time. It was nothing like playing alone in my room. The moment the kick and the bass caught each other, even the plain notes under my fingers took on a real weight. I wished we could have carried a whole song that way.
"Wait."
The guitar cut off. Han Yerin looked at me.
"Bass is rushing again."
"Sorry. I'll take it again."
"You do practice at home, don't you?"
The hand pressing the strings went still.
"I do."
"Then why do you keep missing the same spot?"
"Yerin. Let's take it slow from there and lock it in."
Yoon Seoa cut in. Han Yerin shut her mouth for a moment, then dropped her eyes to the music.
"Four bars before the chorus."
I was the one who'd gotten it wrong. I knew that. Did she have to say it like that? I'd drilled that section alone for over an hour yesterday. Bring it up here and all I'd hear was why I still couldn't play it after all that.
The count came in again. This time I didn't look toward Han Yerin. I only listened to the drums.
By the time practice ended, it was past seven. Yoon Seoa left first for her part-time job, and Jeong Daeun stepped into the hall to take a call.
I was unplugging my cable when Han Yerin set hers down at my feet.
"Wind this one up too."
"You do it, Sunbae."
It came out harder than I'd meant. Han Yerin looked at me.
"What? Why the serious face?"
"I'm already packing up my own things."
"I only asked because you were already at it."
"Then you can do mine while you're at it."
The room went quiet. Han Yerin looked at me for a second, then picked up the cable.
"Fine. I'll do it."
Somehow I'd become the petty one. Even so, I didn't want to apologize. I'd come to practice an instrument, not to run errands. In silence I wiped the bass and settled it into the case.
That was when the phone I'd left on the desk buzzed. I reached for it and caught my wrist on the case handle; the hand I'd stretched out at an awkward angle nudged the phone. I grabbed for it as it slid toward the edge of the desk.
"Ah—"
Too late. It struck with a hard crack, right on the corner of the power strip lying on the floor.
I snatched it up. A green line had split the middle of the screen. I pressed the power button. It flashed white and died.
Beside me, Han Yerin spoke.
"Be more careful."
"......Right."
As if I'd dropped it on purpose. I wasn't even in the mood to talk back. The repair bill came first. Textbook costs this month were already bad enough.
I held the button down. A short vibration answered, and the screen lit again.
My finger stopped.
What the hell is this.
"Sunbae."
"What."
"Do you know what this is?"
I turned the screen toward her. Han Yerin narrowed her eyes.
"Screen's busted."
"Not that. The text."
"What text?"
"Here."
I pointed. Same reaction.
"There's nothing there. Get it repaired."
I turned it back toward myself. The text was still there. White letters on a black ground—not the kind of thing you could miss if it was actually on the screen.
That was when Jeong Daeun called from the hall.
"Unnie. They want a date set for the performance application."
"Coming."
Han Yerin left her own phone sitting on the desk and walked out. The door closed.
I turned the screen off and on again. The same lines appeared. Right beside me sat a phone in a black case, a cat sticker stuck to the back.
Don't tell me I can actually look at that.
I tapped the name on the screen.
The entries came up one after another. For a second I wondered if some strange app had installed itself. But in my contacts I'd definitely saved her as Guitar Sunbae. Where had it pulled the name Han Yerin from?
I tapped Messages. A conversation list opened—the club group chat, and several unsaved numbers. The last line in the group chat was something I'd sent today, about probably arriving ten minutes early. Even the spacing was identical.
I paused, then moved up the list. A delivery text that had come in a little while ago caught my eye.
An ordinary courier text. But underneath it......
I stared at the screen. Then I read it again from the first line.
Ordered by Han Yerin.
Item.
......What?
I hadn't misread it. Option and quantity were written out plain. I shifted my thumb and checked above and below, but there was nothing else.
Han Yerin's voice carried in from the hall.
"Friday won't work. I told you—Seoa has her shift."
The same voice that had been picking at me a minute ago.
I looked at the closed door, then back down at the screen.
Did Sunbae really buy this?
The words that had appeared on my phone were already an impossible situation. And a dildo, of all things?
At that moment, the doorknob moved.
I killed the screen.
Han Yerin came in and picked up the phone on the desk. The hand checking the screen paused. She opened one notification, read it, and immediately flipped the phone face-down.
"I'm leaving first. Lock the door."
Her hands were quicker than before as she grabbed the guitar case. I nodded before I quite meant to.
She was shouldering her bag when she glanced my way.
"What are you looking at?"
Same tone as always. This time the answer didn't come right away.
"It's nothing."
"Don't forget to lock up."
The door shut.
Only after the footsteps faded did I look down at the phone in my hand. The green line still ran across the cracked screen. I pressed the button, and the delivery text rose over it again.
Was that what Sunbae had just checked?
What I'd sent in the group chat had been exact. The name had been right. I'd watched her read a notification and hurry out. Even so, I couldn't ask her about this.
It was a long while before I turned the screen off.
No matter how I turned it over, I seemed to have gotten my hands on some incredible information.