"Okay," I said, rubbing grit from my eyes. "I haven't slept in twenty-four hours, my eye is swollen, and I'm running on caffeine and desperation. But... I have this."
I tossed a stack of printed lyric sheets onto the table and connected my phone to the club's Bluetooth speakers.
"It's a demo," I said, my voice hoarse. "I call it 'Frequency.' The track is synthesized, but you'll get the idea."
Myung-dae was confused. Looks like he didn't know the meaning of the word 'Frequency. Myung-dae should learn more English, ha-ha.
I hit play.
The room filled with a driving, fast-paced electronic beat I'd cobbled together on my laptop. It was aggressive, high-energy, with a distinct gap in the melody where a lead instrument should be.
For three minutes, nobody spoke.
Jun-seo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening intently. Myung-Dae stared at the ceiling, tapping his foot against his will. Leo studied the sheet music like it was a complex math equation. Jin-hyun just spun his drumstick, smiling.
The track ended.
"Well?" I asked, looking at Leo. "You're the prodigy. Is it trash?"
Leo didn't look up immediately. He scribbled something on the paper.
"It's... structurally sound," he said in English, his tone clinical. "The bridge is too long. The chord progression in the chorus is a bit generic—classic I-V-vi-IV. But..." He tapped the paper. "It leaves room for improvisation. It's not bad. For a guitarist."
"I'll take it," I exhaled.
"You wrote this in one night?" Jin-hyun asked, impressed. "It's got energy."
"Now, the lineup," I said, moving to the whiteboard. "I analyzed the old album. I looked at our current... assets. Here is the plan."
I wrote names on the board.
Jun-seo: Main Vocal. San: Lead Vocal / Guitar. Leo: Electric Violin (Lead Melody). Jin-hyun: Drums. Myung-Dae: Bass... and Rap.
The room temperature dropped.
Myung-Dae slowly lowered his legs from the coffee table. He looked at the board, then at me.
"Rap?" he repeated, his voice low. "Who said I'm rapping? This is a band, Mountain. Not a hip-hop crew."
"I did," I said, trying to hold his gaze without flinching. "I listened to the W-Naut debut EP last night. Track 4. 'Inside this Frame.'"
The silence that followed was heavy. Jun-seo looked away, a pained expression crossing his face. Myung-Dae stiffened.
"You dug up W-Naut?" Myung-Dae scoffed, though his ears turned slightly pink.
"Rap will be good," I argued. "It'll give the grit. Right now, we have Jun-seo's pretty vocals and Leo's classical training. If we just play pop-rock, we'll sound like every other band. We need edge. We need that low tone."
"I don't do that anymore," Myung-Dae snapped. "Find someone else."
"There is no one else!" I shouted back, my patience fraying. "We have twenty-four hours! You're the bassist. You have the rhythm. You have the voice. Just do it!"
"Don't command me, you—"
CLICK.
The heavy sound of the door latch opening cut Myung-Dae off mid-shout.
We all turned.
Standing in the doorway was a distinguished older man in a perfectly tailored grey suit. Silver hair, rimless glasses, and an aura of absolute, terrifying authority.
It was the Principal. Leo's grandfather.
I froze. This is it. We're expelled. Unauthorized assembly with a Hanyeong student.
The Principal stepped into the room. His sharp eyes swept over us. He looked at me ("The Problem"), at Myung-Dae ("The Rebel"), and at Jun-seo ("The Disappointment"). He barely glanced at Leo.
He didn't say a word to any of us.
Instead, he walked straight past the Kirin students, ignoring us as if we were furniture, and stopped directly in front of the drum kit.
In front of Park Jin-hyun.
And then, the Principal of Kirin Arts High School... bowed.
It wasn't a nod. It was a deep, respectful, almost deferential bow from the waist.
"Young Master Park," the Principal said, his voice smooth and incredibly polite. "I was informed you were on campus. If I had known earlier, I would have prepared a proper reception."
I looked at Jun-seo. He wasn't shocked. He just rolled his eyes, looking disgusted. Myung-Dae scoffed loudly, crossing his arms. They knew. Of course they knew.
This was the "Golden Triangle." Money outranked everything, even school rivalries.
Jin-hyun sat on the drum throne, looking utterly bored. He didn't stand up to return the bow.
"Principal Han," Jin-hyun sighed, tapping the snare drum lightly. "I'm just jamming. Don't make it weird."
"Is the facility to your liking?" the Principal asked, ignoring the rudeness. "The air conditioning in this wing can be temperamental. Shall I have refreshments sent up?"
"I'm fine," Jin-hyun said, waving a hand dismissively. "We're busy. We have a deadline."
He looked pointedly at Leo.
Leo was sitting on the amp, his face burning with a mix of humiliation and anger. He stood up.
"Grandpa," Leo said in Korean, his voice tight. "Get out. Please."
The Principal straightened up. He looked at Leo, his expression shifting instantly from deferential servant to stern patriarch.
"Fix your tie, Han Leo," he commanded coldly. "You look sloppy."
Then he turned back to Jin-hyun, gave one last polite nod, and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on.
"Unbelievable," Myung-Dae muttered, kicking the leg of the table. "He practically licked your boots."
"Don't start," Jin-hyun warned, his playful demeanor gone for a second. "You think I like it? It's annoying."
He sighed, running a hand through his silver hair.
"This," Jin-hyun groaned, looking at the ceiling. "This is exactly why I went to Hanyeong."
He looked around the room, sensing the mood had bottomed out. He twirled his sticks, the whirrr sound cutting the tension.
"Well?" Jin-hyun barked. "Are we going to talk about family trees, or are we going to play music?"
He pointed a stick at Myung-Dae.
"And you. Bassist. You're rapping. San is right. 'Inside this Frame' and '풍부한' was good."
Myung-Dae glared at him. He looked like he wanted to throw his bass through the window. He looked at Jun-seo, who was studiously tuning his guitar, refusing to engage.
Myung-Dae let out a long, ragged breath through his nose. He grabbed the cable and plugged his bass into the amp.
THRUM.
The deep sound vibrated in our chests.
"One time," Myung-Dae spat, stepping up to the mic stand. "If it sounds stupid, I'm out."
"Deal," I said, grabbing my own guitar.
Jin-hyun grinned. He clicked his sticks together.