Yoko's Tantrum and the Shattered Weekend Dream
This wasn't Jongno in Seoul, just some nearby villa. A thirty-minute drive to Seoul Practical Music High School if traffic was light, an hour and a half if it wasn't. A Japanese exchange student living in one of those apartments muttered to herself after a hectic school day.
"Ah, hate goin' to school."
Her name was Minami Yoko. The refined young lady from Fushimi who'd dashed to Korea in excitement at Im Siwoo's summons, after slacking off in Japan without uploading any tracks. Lately, she'd been enduring some seriously painful days, and if you traced the cause, it'd lead straight to Seonggwang—the composer she'd idolized, now her bandmate. Or more precisely, his unofficial alias, Seyroku.
Recently, she was getting homework from him every single day. Wake up in the morning, head to school, and aside from class time, she'd get dragged off every hour to play guitar. Back home in Japan, she'd strum it maybe a few times a day if that; now she was glued to it all day long. Even after finally dragging herself home, there was no rest. Shower, eat, then video call with him while clutching the guitar for more practice. And that wasn't the end—afterward, he'd give her separate guidance on composing.
A model life, for sure. Of course, it wasn't the life Yoko wanted, so every day she shed tears of sorrow, secretly nurturing her rage and thirst for revenge against her idol (not Tokyo).
Naturally, Minami Yoko wasn't a guitarist; it was still just a hobby, so having complaints was par for the course. But her main account as Syobare—the one that paid the bills—hadn't seen a new track in ages. Lately, it was flooded with daily vlogs and side gig videos, while the main channel was barely scraping by with shorts, practically abandoned. So yeah, it made sense she'd have to grind extra hard elsewhere.
Plus, Seonggwang's lessons weren't useless. His understanding of music outshone anyone she'd seen. In the end, with no clear reason to refuse and no choice but to push herself, Yoko was tackling the brutal workload with help from her roommate.
That was Yoko's super hardcore high school life. But today, she could finally relax.
Because tomorrow was Saturday. No school.
"...Can't wait for tomorrow's fun... hehe."
And tomorrow, she could actually play. The Seonggwang who'd been tormenting her had set up a meetup and called her out. It had to be a reward for all her hard work.
Fancy eats, famous spots! Sightseeing Korea with school friends!
Yoko, who hadn't gotten to enjoy this foreign land properly since transferring due to paperwork hassles, was buzzing at the thought of spending the holiday with her new school pals. She bounced around like a girl before a picnic, but knowing she'd go full throttle all day tomorrow without tiring, she hit the hay early.
"Ufufuheheng..."
Grinning like an idiot, Yoko passed out.
Just a few hours until the dream she was dreaming of—and the dreamlike tomorrow. But she woke up at 7 a.m., way earlier than the meetup time. If her roommate saw, they'd faint dead away in shock.
The refreshed Yoko drew back the curtains, basking in the morning sun streaming through the window.
"Ah... nice sunshine, yeah?"
Satisfied with her sleep, she pondered what to do with the three hours left till the meetup and decided to tackle the homework he'd assigned. She picked up the guitar, thought for a sec, got pissed, and chucked it on the bed. Maybe study Korean via OTT dramas? But...
"Ah, crap."
She got sucked in binge-watching, and suddenly time was tight. She rushed to get ready and bolted out.
Ten minutes by bus, five on foot. She arrived at the spot.
The address Seonggwang had messaged her.
"...Practice room?"
For some reason, it was a music studio. Puzzled, she climbed the stairs and messaged him again.
No mistake. They'd really picked a practice room as the meetup spot.
"...Gotta be a coincidence, right?"
Verified, Yoko shuddered briefly at the terrifying possibility flashing through her mind, but shook it off—no way—and flashed a cheerful smile. Yeah, even the cruelest folks wouldn't do that. No way they'd make her practice guitar on the weekend too.
"Just a coincidence..."
He called her out to have fun today. They were just gathering at the practice room by chance, confirming faces, then heading elsewhere. Yoko believed that, so she opened the door to practice room 4 as summoned.
And there was Lara, with Seonggwang greeting her with a bright smile.
Yoko relaxed at his smile and grinned back—then froze at the sound that hit her simultaneously.
A steady tick like a clock pendulum. A constant beat like bouncing off the floor. It pinned her in place.
"...Metronome?"
Only then did Yoko notice Lara behind Seonggwang's smile. Not even sitting on a chair—she was slumped on the floor. Staring at the uncharacteristically disheveled girl, Yoko instantly realized Lara was the first victim.
Spotting Yoko, Lara peeled sheet music off her cheek and beamed wide at her.
"As expected of Yoko—you came to save me."
"..."
There was supposed to be a follow-up line, but unfamiliar with Korean culture, Yoko glossed over it. Instead, eyeing the horrific scene and Lara—who might foreshadow her own future—she added to the grim situation.
"I wanna go home."
Yoko blurted it out, and the music-obsessed monster Seonggwang—who'd dragged her here two hours early for vocal training only—and Lara grabbed her wrist with a grin.
"Aaaah! Let go! Let me gooo!"
Yoko squeezed her eyes shut, sending an SOS, but sadly, the soundproofing was top-notch. Her lovely voice couldn't outdo Korean soundproofing tech and faded coldly away.
She ended up forcibly clutching Seonggwang's guitar, weeping as tears fell on unanswered pleas.
"Lemme out. I wanna go hooome..."
Yoko wailed, but unfamiliar with Korean culture, she didn't know what response that'd get.
Easy to come in, not so much to leave.
The quiet practice room. No chit-chat, just the metronome ticking at 80 BPM instead of a clock.
Counting beats in place of time, Lara sang to the rhythm, Yoko strummed guitar. Their recent daily routine. But Yoko, hands trembling with a shit-eating grimace, finally set the guitar down gently and rebelled.
"I'm still a virgin!"
I jumped at her shout; Lara tsked at the familiar scene and paused her vocal drills.
"Yokoyoko. What's up all sudden?"
"How long I gotta keep this up! I can't stay virgin forever!"
"What the—"
Why was she so pissed? When I asked, she pointed at me and yelled.
"Every damn day guitar practice! Making me sing only! People can't just do music all day!"
"Dude... you're making bank off music—what else you gonna do, huh?"
"Drop a hit and live off royalties! Play forever!"
"Wha—!"
Even rotten fish has some good left, huh? Being a track-making slacker gave her spot-on insight into musicians' lives. My royalties got swallowed by the agency, but looks like Yoko's still earning. Despite her shorts-only channel lately.
"But Yokoyoko. We're a band... I'm busting ass with Lara to boost your crap guitar skills before break."
"This much! How can school end and 4 hours straight! Weekends too, dragged here. This my real job! VOCALOID P!"
Yoko screeched, whining about how procedures kept her from proper fun since arriving. Fair point—I'd been grinding her hard lately. Calling her every non-class moment at school for guitar, video calls at home for arrangements and crash courses.
She said in Japan she'd ditch school after meals and slack. Now she was living peak diligence.
Yoko was pro, but not pro guitarist—hobby level, so feeling hard done by was understandable.
"Hmm."
Me, Seonggwang. Totally get it. Overflowing empathy, the healing Seonggwang who mends girls' wounds. As a composer myself, I know how grueling track-making is. Can't not empathize with her walking a similar path, even if different. Who doesn't know juggling school and composing sucks? Hundred percent get it.
But... one condition.
"If you'd dropped even one track in the last month, you'd have a point, Yoko."
"...Urk."
She averted her eyes. That scummy producer aggro-pulled with empty promises, no new tracks—just lazy dailies and game vids. In this era, SNS marketing's mandatory, but with music-tagged channel, don't flip priorities.
I never stopped side-eyeing pro high school VOCALOID producer 'SUYOBARE'.
"Huh? Producer, so produce. Don't whine tired after school. Don't say weekends off. Think I don't know you leech donations streaming games nonstop."
"Kuh...!"
She's been gritting teeth ignoring viewers asking for new tracks, now premium-only streams to dodge hate.
"Won't watch that shit...!"
"Thanks to you, I shelled out 35,900 won extra sub this month. Stream properly. Skip a day, two extra guitar hours."
"You sneaky bastard... I'll get revenge, senkan...!"
"Worry 'bout your fans stoning me first."
Less than before, but I carry pepper spray just in case. Time you got doxxed too. My sincere persuasion cowed her a bit, but her grudge lingered.
She jumped at band invite promising tracks—why bitch now? Ask why, she pouts and fiddles with innocent guitar.
"But... wanna have fun, y'know... Finally friends with Lara-senpai and senkan-senpai..."
"You game in free time. Streaming fun—who you kidding."
"Not that! Wanna go out! Eats! Karaoke! Korea sightseeing!"
"Yoko, watch your pronun. Sightseeing."
"Anyway! Wanna go out but always guitar no talk... Always crap, scold only... No fair!"
The Japanese exchange student Yoko came to Korea chasing dreams. Sure, her goals, but also for new bonds. Despite language barriers, get close, hang out. Paint that ordinary, beautiful youth portrait. She could, and did.
But treating her too business-like lately, I thought. 'Music's pain, music's life.' But no reason life itself gotta hurt.
I eyed Yoko's rain-soaked puppy eyes, pondered her side, sighed inevitably.
"Yare yare, shoganai... Can't be helped!"
"No way..."
Spouting fresh Japanese, I crossed arms, grinned at her. Eyes full of hope, she looked up.
"Can't be helped! Yoko. Skip Korea sightseeing."
"...?"
"Thought it over. You gotta level up guitar before break, no doubt."
Lara's vocals cover with personality; Yoko's got zilch. Just git gud or bust. Shoulda practiced before. Real slackers prepped in gaps for leisure. No prep? Grind now.
"Treat it like backlog homework. Paying dues."
"......"
No grimace, no smile. Blank, resolute nod to her fate.
"...Got it. Can't be helped then."
"Good, you understand. Thanks, Yoko..."
"From now, activating Yoko Emergency!"
"Huh?"
She propped guitar on chair, flopped on floor.
Then...
"Waaaaaah!! Hate practiceee!! Wanna plaaaay!!"
Flat on back, she thrashed limbs in full tantrum.
"Yoko?"
"No no no!! Hate practice! Enough! Wanna play with Yoko!!"
Screaming dialect-mixed ravings, pounding walls/chairs, rolling around. Dust clung to checkered shirt. A 17-year-old high schooler in full ugly meltdown.
We were shocked speechless. How embarrassing.
Me and Lara gawked at Yoko's kid-fit, but didn't stop, soothe, or scold. Just watched.
"No no! Wanna playyy~!! Play! Playyy! Quit practice, go out plaaaay!!"
"..."
"With Yoko! Quit guitar, wanna play! No more practice nooo...!"
"........."
"No! No no......"
"........."
"......Hm."
Tantrums are like gags. Pointless without audience reaction. So in this, the worst fear for a whiner isn't anger—it's indifference.
Comedians dread not hate, but apathy. Cold silence below stage, no thrills.
"......"
Her noisy rampage faded; Yoko rose alone, silent.
"Tsk."
Lara tsked; Yoko shuddered small. Face beet red, hands hiding it, she sniffled, trembling.
I brushed dust off her clothes, spoke softly.
"Yoko."
"...Yes."
"No more of that."
"Understood."
Her reply—clearest Korean I'd heard. Stock-crash Jonghun-hyung face, but no shame shown, back to chair. Before restarting metronome, I glanced at Lara.
"Lara. You feel my practice pushes too hard too?"
"Nah. I do it 'cause I want. Planned to live off this. No playtime anyway. Tantruming over it's rude to you."
Yoko gritted teeth at Lara's words; I teared up, clapped at her maturity.
Yes, that's the ideal attitude toward me. Huh? Musician not do music?
"Kuh... Lara!"
Worth preaching my music philosophy. I upped Lara affinity; Yoko scowled watching.
"Liar."
"......Yoko."
"Always bitching senkan-senpai sucks to me."
"Yoko. Quiet."
Lara reached to shut her, but room too small—Yoko's snark reached me.
"Yokoyokoko, spill details."
"Nothing. Yoko just talking shit."
"In chat without senkan-senpai, Lara-senpai and me... Mmph! Mmph!!"
"Hey! Quiet I said!"
Lara tried sealing the sole witness, but truth leaks like beacon fire despite seals. I grabbed Yoko's phone, peeked Lara chat.
"Yaa!"
Lara blocked frantic, but Yoko clung to her leg—I had minutes before wailing. Enough to read.
"Ahem, let's see..."
No-senkan chat? Just them gossiping. Post-Yoko message, Lara's reply slightly up.
June 19, 2025. Day I held Lara post-school, nagged through personal vocals. What'd she send then?
"7:30 p.m...."
"Wait!"
"That fucker Seonggwang..."
Stopped there. Too vulgar to voice; no hobby outing girls' dirty laundry.
"...Lara?"
"Uh......Just venting frustration."
I betrayed-face at her; Lara sweated, eyes sideways. Manners my ass—just not in front of me. Restraint's something. Wording rough, but same whines: Nags too much. Praise sometimes, not just roast. Don't nitpick vocab. Why always busy-reject play invites.
"Using Yoko as emotional dumpster, huh..."
Lara bowed in shame; Yoko snickered, justice wins.
Done peeking girls' secrets, returned phone. Kinda shocking though. Lara wants hangouts with me?
"Surprising."
"What's surprising... Friends eat, play sometimes."
"Then say so."
"I did?"
"Oh, I rejected."
Late realization—Lara glared, pouted.
"Always 'friends friends' distance, but ice-cold reject then... Talk friends, but business business."
Didn't show, but inwardly bummed at my refusals. Figured she had tons playmates, preferred music over me. Thought proper distance; feels like I walled her off.
"Tch..."
Awkward, rethought their stances. Lara's friend, Yoko sorta too. Bonds built, trust too. Music savvy rising.
But I don't know them as people. Likes, excites. Personal tastes root music's branches.
Just Lara before, tunes via personality grasp. Maintain status quo okay?
Nope.
Music path: forward, endless growth—destiny. Must dig deeper. For composing, for bandmates Lara and tagalong Yoko. Smooth band life demands it.
"...Alright. Decided."
Short deliberation. Delivered welcome news.
"Grab a day, just us? Team building."
"R-Really? For real? R-Really?"
"Yes. No lie this time."
"Yass! Woohoo! Woohooo!"
Yoko stomped joy; Lara wide-eyed shock. Figured I'd nix it, but I love fun. Who hates play? Me, Penguin Seonggwang—fun's best. Just prioritized urgent stuff. Play slots anytime needed.
"If Yoko hits quota first, yeah."
"...Hai?"
Yoko halted celebrate; Lara half-moon eyes at her.
"Duh. Play before done? Pointless. Finish first, play guilt-free."
"...After play no good?"
"Yokokoya. Not long-timers, but I know you won't stick."
"Smartasses get the bullet."
Yoko narrowed eyes, hugged guitar back. Fierce gaze locked on me, resolute.
"Confident?"
No words, just smirk corner up. Riding her challenge fire, I proposed to both.
"Okay. Nail the parts I taught, one-take no mistakes—tomorrow fun. Deal."
"Keep word... Let's gooo!"
"Mistake? Next weekend. Practice till then."
"Eh? What? Wait, Yoko!"
Lara startled block, but Yoko shook head, tsked mocking.
"No worry Lara-senpai. How much I practiced... Trust me who trusts me!"
Finger curled, confident first stroke—all eyes mocking our doubt...
Drriiing
"..."
Failed obviously. Laughably predictable. Stunned Yoko, Lara death-glare; I stood first.
"Fail. Disband for today, next week. Rest up."
Packed sheets; Yoko dazed mutter under glares.
"Not fair. Didn't yell challenge? Invalid... Challenge!"
"C'mere. No mercy this time."
"Aaaah! Hurts! Hurts! Sorry! Sorreee!!"
Lara punishing Yoko behind, I casually packed. Our meetup disbanded that day.
After, four unread messages from Lara/Yoko group sans me hit my sleepy phone, but no mood for complaints—I powered off.
It was summer.