Chapter 13: Youtube
by AfuhfuihgsHe is an ordinary office worker.
The only thing noteworthy about him is that he lives near Hongdae.
Today, too, he endured his boss’s mental blows and thought about how he just wanted to go home, get drunk on beer, and sleep.
At this hour, the scenery of Hongdae was all too familiar to him—a crowd of street performers desperately appealing for even a single glance.
What drives them to be so earnest? Is it really that enjoyable to be noticed by someone? He couldn’t understand.
Without much thought, he continued walking, his steps briefly halting at a spot where the crowd was irritatingly dense.
Why were there so many people here? Was it a magic show, or perhaps a famous dance crew?
But with no explanatory chatter or introductions, it didn’t seem to be either.
Drawn by an inexplicable curiosity, he approached the crowd gathered around the busker.
As he carefully wove his way through the unusually quiet onlookers, he caught sight of a high school girl playing the guitar.
She wasn’t wearing a tie, her shirt sleeves were rolled up, and her pants were slightly hitched. Long hair fell gently across her forehead, and her expressionless face reflected her deep focus on the performance.
“I love you pretty baby
Well, I say you love me too.”
He didn’t recognize the song. The rhythm and lyrics were unfamiliar. A brief guitar solo carried a slightly melancholic feel.
Then, the mood shifted dramatically. The rhythm and tempo became lively again, followed by another short guitar solo.
“All your loving, pretty baby
All your loving, pretty baby.”
He had never heard this song before, but was this what a country song felt like? It seemed a little odd for someone so young to perform such a genre.
“Since I first met you, baby
I never knew what I was missing.”
Accompanied by a third guitar solo with an addictive sound, the song concluded.
It wasn’t a performance so extraordinary as to leave him in awe. After all, the genre itself was unfamiliar to him.
Yet, for some reason, he felt like he wanted to go home and listen to this song again. He regretted not recording it from the beginning.
“‘All Your Love’ by John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers. Thank you.”
After the applause subsided, the girl quietly announced the song title. He didn’t catch the artist’s name, but at least he caught the title—“All Your Love.”
As he opened KakaoTalk to jot down the note, the next song began.
And he completely forgot about writing the note.
The ethereal sound of a synthesizer played through the speaker.
Was this what it would sound like, he wondered, if a faint cry echoed from beyond a distant mountain range?
Or perhaps it resembled the sound of an emerald-green ocean’s depths swallowing something from long ago.
But the sound didn’t linger for long. With the simultaneous entrance of cymbals and synthesizers, the atmosphere swelled.
Then, the guitar began.
The clean tone wasn’t flashy. It simply resonated. It soared so high it seemed to pierce through the sky, then descended, trudging along the ground.
But it wasn’t flat.
It rose and fell, swayed and then steadied. The flow never broke, rolling and rippling like a river.
He closed his eyes.
But the moment he closed his eyes, he was struck by the illusion of being in a grand concert hall.
The vastness emanating from the guitar tone.
He sat alone in the middle of the auditorium, absorbing the reverberations of the sound on his skin. It felt like enjoying a private concert just for himself.
As the song progressed, the sound grew more intense. The drums entered, and the melody became increasingly diverse and vigorous.
He became curious about the guitarist’s expression.
What must it feel like to play such a song? Was she admiring her own talent? Was she lost in the music?
But the girl’s face remained expressionless. She just played the guitar.
It was as if this was nothing more than a task for her, a labor—like a carpenter hammering nails into wood, resolute and firm.
Eventually, the song came to an end.
The guitar, having poured everything into the performance, simply wailed as it concluded.
A soft round of applause followed. It wasn’t perfunctory, but it was clear that the performance had not allowed for an emotional outpouring from the audience.
“Thank you.”
Myeong-jeon briefly checked the guitar. Using the tremolo arm too aggressively often causes the tuning to go off, and sure enough, he noticed slight deviations that he quickly corrected.
There were about 20 minutes left in the performance, but there was no need to continue. Myeong-jeon bowed to the audience, and another round of applause rang out. Some people left saying they had enjoyed it, others approached to ask for autographs.
“Is our Suyeon a genius? Didn’t she just start playing guitar recently?”
A voice from the side was that of her mother. He smiled faintly in response. It was a question he couldn’t answer, so it was easier to just brush it off.
“I guess I have some talent.”
“Even I can see that. What should we do? If Suyeon becomes a rockstar, should I quit my job and just support her?”
That future would never come. Becoming a rockstar in Korea wasn’t easy.
But Myeong-jeon was someone who knew better than to entertain such unrealistic dreams. To talk about such things would imply something else—what would that make him?
Of course, it was different. There was a difference between declaring you would leech off your parents and actually doing it without saying anything.
“Could you help me with the cleanup?”
“Sure, let’s clean up together.”
After sending off most of the people, Myeong-jeon started cleaning up with Lee Hyein. The gear included a YouTube recording camera, cabinet speaker, amplifier, power bank, effectors, laptop, guitar, and more—two full carts of equipment.
“That’s a load of stuff that can’t be moved without help.”
In a past life, he would have just moved this busking gear by himself with his car. But now, he couldn’t drive, and motorcycles were out of the question. It was too much to carry in a taxi.
He could have just rented equipment without needing help. He had done that during his second busking performance, after all.
While the audience hadn’t noticed the difference, Myeong-jeon found the rented gear unsatisfactory—everything from the output to the sound was lacking.
That’s why he had to ask his mom for help. His mom cheerfully agreed, saying, “Is my daughter showing a performance? How nice~,” but Myeong-jeon felt somewhat awkward about it.
“Getting help when you’re older. Especially from someone much younger. Good job, Myeong-jeon.”
A few days ago, Myeong-jeon had coaxed a few hundred thousand won out of someone much younger, but he thought little of it.
At this point, if you were to ask what was bothering Myeong-jeon, it might be the war in Ukraine, climate change, the decline of teacher authority, school violence, or economic stagnation.
Because Myeong-jeon was someone who took an interest in society (reading daily news) and actively participated (arguing in comment sections), considering himself a knowledge worker.
But what truly bothered Myeong-jeon wasn’t the grand issues, but rather something much smaller—his own personal matters.
“Why is this happening?”
The second video featuring Myeong-jeon was similar. A video filmed without him even noticing, already surpassing 400,000 views and carrying the “popular video” tag.
However…
[HSY’s Guitar Heaven]
@HSYguitar
2 subscribers, 3 videos
“Why is my channel in this state?”
Myeong-jeon couldn’t make sense of the situation. No matter how many subscribers the other channel had, his video was the original.
Moreover, Myeong-jeon had put in considerable effort into making his videos. He added tags to help others find them, made the text large and clear, listed the song titles, and decorated with colorful text.
[Cover of “Voodoo Child” by Jimi Hendrix. #JimiHendrix #Guitar #Legendary #MZ #Busking #Psychedelic]
Views: 5 / 1 day ago
[Cover of “I Shot the Sheriff” by Eric Clapton. #EricClapton #Guitar #Legendary #MZ #Busking #BobMarley #Cover]
Views: 0 / 1 day ago
Yet, no one was watching.
Of course, the fact that no one was watching his channel didn’t affect Myeong-jeon too badly. He had two purposes for busking: to find material to upload to YouTube and to promote himself for session work.
If his videos ended up on other popular channels and gained views, the second purpose would be fulfilled. In fact, seeing his performance videos on platforms like Mule or Cuonet, he could feel his recognition growing in real time.
It still left a bad taste in his mouth, though.
“Shouldn’t people be watching the original?”
Myeong-jeon thought about sending a complaint email, but he didn’t think the channel would take down the video. After all, in a way, it was still promoting “Ha Su-yeon.”
He decided he would send the email if the channel grew bigger. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to his own channel. His views weren’t increasing, and there was no sign of change.
He briefly wondered if he should follow the advice of the school kids.
The thumbnail he had chosen was one that clearly displayed the song name, venue, and time, making the video’s content easy to identify at a glance.
But if that method wasn’t working… maybe, like Dain said, he could feature Ha Su-yeon’s face while playing the guitar, and create a more provocative title. Using Ha Su-yeon’s feminine appeal as bait, he could sell the video based on that.
Should he do that?
“I don’t really want to go that far…”
Myeong-jeon tilted his head slightly. Using Ha Su-yeon’s looks would definitely attract a lot of views.
But he had been born a man… well, not quite a man right now, but still, he didn’t want to go down that path. If the views didn’t come, then so be it. What was so important about that, anyway?
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