Ch.133133. Vote

“Waaah! It’s Sohye’s boyfriend~”

“Oh! Kang-hyung! Hi!”

“Hey, Choi Kang. You should still critique properly, okay? Don’t go easy just because she’s your girlfriend.”

“I know how to separate personal and professional matters, you know?”

The Spirit club room was bustling with people for the first time in a long while.

The entire 23rd and 24th generations were all gathered.

Today was essentially a mid-term evaluation day.

“Can I get the setlist from the freshmen? Just show us in the order you decided.”

“Um… we haven’t actually decided on the performance order yet?”

“Really? Then just show us one song at a time in the order you practiced them.”

Over the past month and a bit, the freshmen had prepared a total of three songs.

They had practiced roughly one song every ten days, which wasn’t a bad pace.

“Not bad.”

After checking the list of confirmed songs, Hana approached Suhyeok with her arms crossed.

“Hey, Lee Suhyeok. Do you know any of these songs?”

“No? They’re all new to me.”

Knowing the songs was essential to provide proper feedback.

Ah… so I’m the only one who’ll be wielding the rod for the juniors today…

Hana sighed as if tired of always playing this role.

Choi Kang would go easy on them because of his girlfriend, and Lee Suhyeok didn’t even know the songs.

Since Seo-eun wasn’t the type to give brutally honest feedback anyway, it seemed like she would be the only one giving constructive criticism today.

Unlike Hana who was focused on their development, Suhyeok was watching Taeho like a father watching his child venture out into the world.

After that night of heavy drinking and consolation, there had been no contact with Taeho.

He didn’t know what had happened within the 24th generation afterward.

For now, Taeho was smiling and talking with Jiho as if nothing had happened, but…

It might have been Suhyeok’s imagination, but despite both being in the guitar line, there seemed to be an invisible boundary drawn between Hyejung and Taeho.

“Everyone, tune up now~”

Seo-eun hummed as she perched on the edge of the desk.

The rest of the 23rd generation all sat in a row on the sofa.

Sohye raised her drumsticks and gave the signal with four taps.

A crisp yet rhythmical crunchy guitar riff announced the beginning.

-Takatakatakataka

A clean muted sound.

It was a refined sound with almost no noise mixed in.

“Taeho… he’s really improved a lot…”

Juyeon sat next to Suhyeok.

Now that she could play guitar herself, she could recognize Taeho’s achievement.

She could even tell that what he was doing now was muting.

“Yeah. He seems to have gotten even better.”

“Did Park Taeho just practice guitar non-stop after getting scolded by Hyejung? To get this good?”

Hana whispered in Suhyeok’s ear, smiling as if amazed by his growth.

The ace of the 24th generation was Jiho, who had been playing bass since high school.

With his solid low tones providing a good foundation, Hyejung’s backing and Taeho’s melody lines layered on top.

-Dududu dududu dudududung

The performance concluded with a flashy drum fill.

As the first song ended, the 24th generation kids all looked to the seniors for their reaction.

“How was… it?”

The vocalist, Jiyeon, holding the microphone, asked toward Seo-eun.

“Who wants to comment?”

Seo-eun turned around to look at the 23rd generation sitting on the sofa.

Suhyeok and Juyeon reflexively avoided eye contact.

Choi Kang stepped forward.

“I’ll do it!”

“Great! Then let’s have Kang give feedback.”

Choi Kang stepped forward with a solemn face.

Despite knowing his goofy side, the juniors were often intimidated by his appearance.

“First of all, you did well!”

“The bass and guitar seem to match well, and above all, the drums!”

Choi Kang thrust his arm forward resolutely.

He stuck out his thumb.

“They were the best!”

“Hey!”

Hana, who had risen to follow him, smacked him on the head.

“What!”

“I knew you’d do this. I told you not to be biased!”

“But our Sohye really did the best!”

“What are you saying! If you’re going to praise someone, there’s someone else who deserves it.”

Hana strode purposefully toward Taeho.

“Taeho did the best! For this song at least! Can’t you see how much he’s grown? Did you miss that tasty intro mute?”

“Oh. M-me?”

Taeho twisted his body as if embarrassed.

“Well… but if we’re talking about skill level, honestly Jiho is the best.”

Seo-eun gracefully approached and placed her hand on Jiho’s shoulder.

“Everyone’s growth is impressive, but we all know Jiho is the ace, right?”

The club room turned into chaos as it suddenly became a factional dispute between instruments.

Juyeon and Suhyeok, left on the sofa, watched them blankly like spectators observing a distant fire.

“Juyeon.”

“Yes?”

Juyeon looked up at Suhyeok when he called her.

“Don’t you have anything to say to the vocalist?”

“Hmm…”

Jiyeon was a good singer.

It wasn’t that she was inferior in singing; it was just that Juyeon’s light shone too brightly.

Typically, the most popular position during band club recruitment season was vocalist.

While other instruments might have a 3:1 or 4:1 ratio, it wasn’t uncommon for more than ten people to apply for the vocalist position.

“I’m not at a level where I can teach others.”

Juyeon had never formally studied singing.

If she were to give shallow explanations under the guise of “tips,” they wouldn’t be professional advice.

“But Jiyeon seems to be quite conscious of you?”

While everyone was noisily giving their opinions, only Jiyeon kept glancing toward Juyeon.

“Um… how about going over and giving her some praise at least?”

If she didn’t want to point out flaws, a simple compliment seemed harmless enough.

“…Okay.”

It was something she would never have done if she were alone.

But since Suhyeok seemed to want it, Juyeon got up and approached Jiyeon.

“…Jiyeon.”

“Yes?”

The two people in the same vocal line who hadn’t become close at all despite being senior and junior.

Jiyeon flinched at being called by Juyeon, whose expression was unreadable.

“…You did well.”

“Huh?”

Juyeon gently placed her hand on Jiyeon’s head as she sat on the backless chair.

“R-really?”

“Yes. Really.”

As a vocalist, Jiyeon had heard countless times that she sang well.

But she had never heard those words from Juyeon.

It didn’t feel like a complaint.

Because her senior was truly someone born with overwhelming talent that couldn’t be compared to her own.

Since the day Juyeon first sang in front of the freshmen, Jiyeon had no choice but to learn humility.

Showing off like she might have done at the neighborhood karaoke was meaningless in front of Juyeon.

So this praise was incredibly valuable to Jiyeon.

In fact, it was something she had very much wanted to hear.

“Th-thank you!”

“Yes. You’ll be even better next year.”

Juyeon looked toward Suhyeok as if asking if this was good enough.

Suhyeok nodded his head in affirmation.

“Well then, let’s continue with the next song~”

It was an argument that would never end if they continued the position-by-position tournament.

Seo-eun roughly directed traffic and continued with the evaluation.

The next was a somewhat lyrical ballad.

The song after that was a slow but funky rhythm from a foreign band.

“I’ll just give the overall assessment, okay?”

Hana looked at the members with her hands on her hips, announcing rather than asking.

Choi Kang still looked dissatisfied, but Hana decided to ignore that.

“First of all, you’ve all improved overall. I think this is truly remarkable progress.”

“Compared to the first semester, you’re playing better together and you can properly produce sound from your instruments.”

All praise is the foundation for constructive criticism.

“But you’re too indifferent to the sound. All of you.”

Hana began to point out the painful truth.

“Playing mechanically well? Of course that’s important. But you haven’t done any research into how the songs you’re playing are produced.”

A ballad and metal couldn’t have the same amp settings.

But the freshmen had only made minimal adjustments and hadn’t tried to learn more deeply about sound.

“In the end, doing a cover rather than an original means you should be able to deliver the same emotion as the original song.”

She meant that the audience needed to hear the sound they were familiar with to truly engage with the performance.

“Of course, if you’re adding your own understanding and saying ‘This is our version!’ that would be different, but that’s not what you’re doing right now.”

Silence fell.

It was an affirmation.

“Hyejung, Taeho.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, unnie.”

“I want you to research how to adjust the amp for each song and show me next time.”

“Yes.”

“The same goes for Jiho.”

Suhyeok watched Hana’s back.

Suhyeok seemed to be quite affected by this side of Hana.

A charisma that he didn’t possess.

And a burning passion for guitar.

Juyeon, noticing Suhyeok looking at Hana, gently leaned her head on his shoulder.

So he wouldn’t be able to see that sight anymore.

“Hmm?”

Feeling the touch on his shoulder, Suhyeok looked down at Juyeon.

“…Just because.”

The feedback session ended with Seo-eun’s closing remarks.

The president led the 23rd generation out into the hallway.

“Now… it’s time for that.”

Seo-eun smiled brightly.

“That?”

“Yes. It’s time for that.”

“What is it?”

The other members, except for Suhyeok, all seemed to know what she was talking about.

“The future of Spirit.”

“It’s time for us to choose the 24th generation president.”