An Hour Before Showtime

One hour before the performance was set to begin, the producer from Star Observation Cam stood against the backdrop of Jeongun High School and interviewed Mun Gayoung.

"School is like a treasure I never got to have."

Behind that kind of predictable line, the sort child stars always gave about school and youth, the conversation turned to singing.

Originally, Mun Gayoung’s agency head had asked them to avoid bringing up her singing career, but the footage they had collected lately was so hopeless that there was no saving it.

And it wasn’t as if they could hand a minor high school girl some sensational mission, either.

From the producer’s point of view, there was nothing for it but to work her dream of becoming a singer into the broadcast somehow.

They cast the wrong person from the start.

With that thought hidden behind a perfectly neutral expression, the producer continued the interview, steering it toward school life, the festival, and the usual safe ground.

At last, the subject reached the performance.

"I heard you’ll be performing."

"Yes. I’ve practiced a lot with my trainer, but this is my first time standing in front of an audience."

"How do you feel?"

"Hmm. It feels like a proper first step toward my dream. To other people, it’s just an ordinary high school festival, maybe even something insignificant... But to me, it’s a treasure I’ve never really had before."

That’s actually a pretty good line.

Truth be told, it was a line Cha Seoha had given Mun Gayoung while asking her to act a little for the camera.

She hadn’t memorized it word for word, but it fit so naturally that it came out on its own.

"Do you have a goal for today’s stage?"

The producer asked the question already expecting some abstract answer in return.

A beginning toward a dream. Memories of a school life she had never been able to have. The moment she would finally show her passion to the world for the first time.

He had not even considered any other kind of answer.

But Mun Gayoung’s reply was genuinely unexpected.

"I want to beat my rival."

"Your rival?"

"Well, I’m the only one who thinks of them as a rival. I doubt they’ve ever even seen me sing."

Mun Gayoung laughed like any high school girl would, but the producer latched onto the word rival.

"What team is that?"

"A band called OKTOP. It’s made up of three friends from our school and two from another school. They’re really famous around here."

"What made you think of them as rivals?"

"There’s a guy named Cha Seoha, the leader and vocalist over there, and he’s really good at singing. He writes songs well, too. So I told him I wanted to use the song he made, Rendezvous, and he turned me down flat."

"Why?"

Normally, a male high school student wouldn’t be able to refuse Mun Gayoung’s request, and a normal indie band probably wouldn’t be able to refuse an entertainer’s request, either.

"He said Rendezvous didn’t suit me."

"That was it?"

"Yes."

"So after getting rejected like that, you sharpened a cute little revenge knife?"

"It’s not revenge... I think I just wanted to show him. That I can do it too. Something childish like that?"

"Then what kind of song are you singing today? I heard it’s your own song. Did you get it from another band?"

"This is the funny part. The song I’m singing today was also made by Cha Seoha."

"What?"

"He said this one suits me better than Rendezvous. It’s called Diving."

"Then even if your stage goes well, isn’t it thanks to Cha Seoha? You can’t really beat him, can you?"

"Exactly. That’s what feels so unfair."

The producer snorted at the slightly disorganized way Mun Gayoung put her feelings into words.

Well, she was only eighteen, after all.

At that age, it made more sense to bicker over amateur pride than to speak in the clean, calculated language of commerce.

"How good are those kids?"

"Really good. If they busk, people swarm around them like clouds."

"Think you can beat them?"

"I’ll have to try!"

And with that, the interview ended. The producer from Star Observation Cam was left with two thoughts.

First, he hoped the kids in OKTOP would be decent enough to work with.

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting much.

On a national scale, how many kids out there were just some neighborhood singer with a little talent?

And of those, only a handful ever really jumped into the business side of show business.

How many people even debuted as singers in a year? A hundred, maybe?

Still, there were amateurs who could make it on air and amateurs who couldn’t.

The producer prayed OKTOP would at least clear the basic bar.

Only then could they somehow wedge them into the broadcast and try to save Jeongun High’s festival.

His second thought was that it would be nice if they were good-looking, too.

When you were filling airtime, there was a world of difference between a subject that justified a zoom-in and one that didn’t.

Even if someone sang decently, if their face wasn’t camera-friendly, they were hard to use on television.

But...

"Guys like that wouldn’t be at a school festival."

They were probably already sweating it out as trainees under some agency.

So in truth, his expectations were faint.

Besides, what had the kid said?

Leader, vocalist, and songwriter?

It was hard enough to be good at one thing. How much could some eighteen-year-old punk juggling everything really have to offer?

"Producer."

"Oh, Writer Jeong. Get anything usable from the teachers or students?"

"Nothing. Not a single thing worth using. Are we going to bomb this episode?"

"What else can we do? For now, just film Mun Gayoung singing as spectacularly as possible. Set up a separate crew for clean closeups."

"I really hope she sings well. I heard the song came from some rookie composer."

"It came from a kid in this school band."

"What? Seriously?"

"...Should we start drafting the apology memo now? I feel like the station director’s going to blow a gasket if this airs."

That conversation had happened an hour ago.

But then...

"P-Producer!"

"...I’m watching too."

"This is insane! We hit the jackpot!"

The moment OKTOP stepped onto the stage, everything changed.

Today, Jeongun High had invited two guest acts.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The first was OKTOP.

The second was Mun Gayoung.

And the one closing out the show was Mun Gayoung.

By skill alone, OKTOP should have gone last, but the halo of being an entertainer and filming a variety show was not something anyone could ignore.

On top of that, the festival staff at Jeongun High didn’t know exactly how good OKTOP really was.

With everything set in that context, the performances by the students of Jeongun High came to an end.

While the MC killed time with the prepared script, OKTOP busied themselves setting up their instruments behind the curtain.

Then the curtain vanished.

"Wooooooah!!"

"Kyahhh!"

"So handsome!!"

"Whoa, holy crap, they’re ridiculously handsome!"

"Wow! Lee Doyeong is gorgeous!"

"What the hell, is that Cha Seoha? No way, he looks like a celebrity!"

"Those guys went to our school?"

As the students screamed over the sight of OKTOP stepping onto the stage, Cha Seoha grinned.

Sure, it had been a performance planned to catch some of the spillover attention...

But once he stood in front of an audience that was already this excited, nothing else mattered.

He just wanted to satisfy them with good music.

In other words, this was real.

This wasn’t the Cha Seoha who had drifted through the world of IF.

This was the real Cha Seoha of OKTOP.

"Hello! We’re OKTOP!"

Waaaaaah!

"Rendezvous! Let’s begin!"

As if he had been waiting for those words, Kang Min’s fierce drums struck straight into the chests of the Jeongun High students.

Then the song took off.

Through time, through space, the whole arrangement fused together ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and burst out with fierce energy.

On top of it, Cha Seoha sang with easy, effortless control.

For a high school stage, the sound was decent enough, but compared to broadcast standards, it certainly wasn’t good.

On top of that, the Jeongun High students didn’t know much about band music, and Rendezvous was a new song to them, too.

But it wasn’t hard for the public to recognize the real thing when it stood in front of them.

"Hey, what the hell."

"They’re insanely good."

And it wasn’t just the vocal.

The vocals were overwhelming, yes, but the guitar, bass, and keyboard all leapt over the house the drums had built and landed squarely in professional territory.

Just before the chorus, Cha Seoha moved closer to Lee Doyeong.

That was the part where the rhythmic slap work began to announce that the chorus was coming.

Lee Doyeong pulled off the passage perfectly, then flashed a grin that looked just like Cha Seoha’s.

It was only natural for the Jeongun High students to scream at the sudden reversal from the quiet, studious image they had pinned on Lee Doyeong.

That kid’s got some chops.

Cha Seoha smiled in satisfaction and delivered the chorus.

The stage OKTOP had prepared was even better than rehearsals.

That was because the energy in the room was hotter than anyone had expected.

Fed by the flood of cheers, OKTOP’s performance pushed through the first verse and chorus and then entered a section that did not exist in the original song.

"Drums!"

An instrumental solo that wasn’t in the original.

After Cha Seoha’s shout, Kang Min finally showed off what he could really do.

A short, incendiary fill.

Then, with fierce headbanging, he pounded out the drums like he was beating them into submission.

His vision must have been a complete mess, but he didn’t miss a single beat.

Polyrhythms blended in nonstop, and his strokes flew so fast they almost looked unreal.

He drove the section forward with a majestic tom-heavy groove, then switched in a wide variety of cymbal work to pull out a bright, buoyant feel.

The audience erupted at the level of skill worthy of a Drum Masters Championship champion.

"Wooooooah!!"

"What? What is that?"

"Holy crap, he’s so good. Who is that guy?"

"He’s not a student here, right?"

"No idea, but he’s completely insane."

When the solo ended, Kang Min raised his sticks over his head.

The next solo belonged to Lee Doyeong.

It was a solo that reflected his opinion that he wanted something stylish and tasteful rather than flashy.

After briefly showing a bass walk that fit pop-punk about as naturally as a fish fit the desert, he slid straight into elegant fingerwork.

If he had followed Kang Min’s explosive performance with another slap-heavy run packed with ghost notes, the whole thing would have lost any sense of rising and falling momentum.

"Oh?"

"Wow, what’s with that composure?"

"Damn, that bass is crazy. Lee Doyeong’s not just a bookworm after all."

"Did losing weight do that? He’s handsome now..."

"For real."

Lee Doyeong’s laid-back solo offered polish rather than fireworks.

To those who liked dopamine exploding all over the place, it was a breather.

To those who loved subtle musicianship, it was a peak.

After those two heavy rhythm players finished, Kim Jihoo came next.

Like Kang Min, he was someone the Jeongun High students had never met before.

Kim Jihoo played a solo full of hope and lift, and the loudest cheer of the entire performance burst out then.

The girls’ voices, especially, dominated the room.

Kim Jihoo played with everything he had.

He drove the line upward with quick comping, and after a short figure he opened up the keyboard and scattered arpeggios across it in an instant.

The keyboard, compared with the other instruments, didn’t naturally have the same brute-force punch.

And if the player was as clean and precise as Kim Jihoo, that impression was even stronger.

Of course, that was just a prejudice.

Used to disciplined, orthodox playing, Kim Jihoo had prepared a weapon for this moment.

He swept his gaze across the audience, then used his whole body and began striking the keys with his fists.

Whatever notes his hands landed on produced carefully calculated dissonance.

It was unmistakably discordant, and yet somehow it felt wonderfully cathartic.

The sight called to mind one of those deranged musicians who only existed in movies.

Naturally, the audience erupted again.

And as if refusing to be outdone by that roar, Heo Junseong launched into his own playing, complete with high harmonics.

The flower of any band was, of course, the guitar.

It was no exaggeration to say it was the lead voice.

Heo Junseong looked a little more fired up than usual, but for a guitarist, that was exactly the right mindset.

Hammer-ons woven between picked notes, delicate timing on the armings, and a barrage of techniques that drove the speed picking forward without a single hint of noise.

By the time the solo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠began to wind down, he let the notes stretch out and settled into an easy groove, then glanced out at the crowd once.

In the end, he threw them a mischievous grin, raised his pick high, and stepped back.

The chorus followed immediately after.

Cha Seoha kept singing with a deeply satisfied expression.

The song had reached its climax.

OKTOP showed not just perfect ensemble playing, but perfect unity.

The power each ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the five members unleashed fused into a single piece of music, and at that point it was no longer really a matter of ensemble at all.

It was just music.

Their performance, so absorbed in itself it seemed to enter a trance, was flawless enough to feel like a prerecorded track being played live.

And Cha Seoha ran around the stage with everything he had until the very end, wringing out every last drop of energy.

He wanted the stage to become more than music people simply listened to.

He wanted it to become a performance that reached straight into their hearts.

And so the bright, green stage that could only be painted at this age, in this moment, and at this exact time came to an end.

Wooooooahhh!

The crowd roared like they were at a singer’s concert, but Cha Seoha didn’t step up to talk.

Instead...

Jiiiiiing-!

The special stage prepared for this performance began immediately.

He had rearranged Munchkin by the boy group Yly, the hottest act in the industry right now, into a band version.

Because he had preserved the feel of the original as much as possible, the students recognized it the moment the song began and let out screams of delight.

After that came Becoming a Bird by the veteran Jo Hyeonwu Band.

It was a masterpiece so well known that even in a market where bands were almost nonexistent, nobody failed to recognize it, and the song’s lyrical, hopeful vibe was the perfect way to bring the set to a close.

And that was how we finished a successful performance, backing out of the stage to the sound of thunderous cheers.