Ch.134134. If I Hadn’t Been There

The election of the president doesn’t directly reflect the opinions of the members of that year’s class.

However, their opinions are never completely disregarded.

When the time comes, the main class members subtly approach each freshman one by one to ask who they’d like to see become president.

Commonly known as “taking the pulse of the people.”

This year, the intelligence agents dispatched were Choi Gang and Seo Eun, who were closest to the first-year students.

“There seem to be mainly two candidates, according to what I’ve gathered.”

24th class’s skilled player.

Bass player Jung Ji-ho.

24th class’s mood maker.

Female vocalist Sung Ji-yeon.

“Let me hear your opinions.”

The meeting about presidential nomination was held at a café in front of the school gate.

The 23rd class members, sitting in a circle around the table, began to share their thoughts.

“I think… both are fine.”

Suhyeok rarely spoke up first.

“Ji-ho has a certain weight to him. That kid.”

“Yeah. He’s definitely on the quieter side.”

“And his skills could be considered ace-level.”

Ji-ho was more serious than frivolous.

The seniors valued that aspect of him.

Naturally, his instrumental skills also served as a significant advantage.

“But Ji-yeon looks good too.”

Hana jumped in with a counterargument.

“I think Ji-yeon shows more affection for the activities.”

“And Ji-yeon gets along well with both girls and boys.”

Ji-ho was the type who barely spoke with girls.

While that attitude couldn’t be called bad, it wasn’t ideal for the position of president, which requires considering everyone’s opinions.

“This is tough…”

Juyeon sucked her drink through a straw with a contemplative look.

If only there was an overwhelming hero like Seo Eun.

The selection of the 23rd class president had been a problem with zero room for deliberation, as easy as could be.

“Hmm… personally, I prefer Ji-ho.”

Seo Eun, who could be considered the most influential, expressed her opinion.

“Ji-yeon seems a bit mentally fragile.”

Having a gentle, nice personality and mental strength were separate matters.

Maintaining composure when crisis strikes.

That was one of the most important qualities for a leader.

Even looking at the current situation proved this point.

If it weren’t for Seo Eun, it wouldn’t have been strange if any member of the 23rd class had already left.

“Should we go with an anonymous vote then?”

Each had their strengths and weaknesses, and differences of opinion existed among the members.

“Let’s do that.”

The vote was conducted via mobile phones.

The results came quickly.

Sung Ji-yeon: 2 votes

Jung Ji-ho: 3 votes

It was a close fight, but Ji-ho won by a narrow margin.

“Hey. This is anonymous in name only. We can all see who voted for whom!”

Assuming everyone voted for the candidate they advocated for, there were no surprises.

It was clear that Hana and Juyeon were the two who voted for Ji-yeon.

“Ah… it’s a shame Ji-yeon won’t be president.”

“A vote is a vote.”

Seo Eun slowly closed her eyes as if to say she wouldn’t accept any objections.

“Let’s announce this at the next check-in.”

“Okay.”

“Got it.”

“Okay. Good work, everyone. Meeting adjourned!”

With that, the 23rd class disbanded.

Hana said she had to leave first for her part-time job.

“Suhyeok.”

“Yeah?”

“I have something I want to consult with you about making a song.”

Juyeon grabbed the hem of Suhyeok’s shirt as he was about to head home.

“Will you come with me?”

“Uh… to the club room?”

“No. My house.”

“…Does it have to be your house?”

Suhyeok expressed his reluctance to go.

“Ah. The files are saved at home. I didn’t back them up on my phone.”

“…Really?”

Suhyeok tried to avoid entering the homes of Hana or Juyeon.

They were spaces where the probability of incidents increased excessively.

Although many actions that could be called incidents had already occurred, the space called “home,” where no one else’s eyes could reach, was a place that multiplied that risk several times over.

“Yeah. But I think it would be better to listen together and talk about it rather than going back home and sending it to you for a call.”

“Hmm…”

If they needed to play the guitar on the spot while talking, going to her house was definitely the more efficient option.

“Alright. But what kind of file is it?”

“Something I made by playing myself.”

“You recorded a demo yourself?”

Suhyeok’s eyes widened.

How could she already be doing such work when she’d only been learning guitar for such a short time?

“Ah, no! It’s not as impressive as what you or Hana do… just something I recorded while playing alone… It’s not difficult! Just messing around with some chords like this and that…”

Juyeon was the type to decline when expectations got too high.

“Still, that’s impressive. What was I doing two months after I started?”

Suhyeok recalled when he first played the guitar.

He was probably stubbornly tackling difficult fast-paced songs.

With fingers swollen because he hadn’t even developed calluses yet, thinking, ‘Why does it hurt so much…?’

“Excuse me for intruding.”

Juyeon’s house was neatly organized today as well.

The cream-colored Stratocaster placed next to the bookshelf was still unfamiliar to Suhyeok.

Though the same stand existed at Hana’s house and his own, why did the one at Juyeon’s place seem so awkward?

“Why don’t you sit here first?”

Juyeon unfolded a portable chair and seated Suhyeok in the co-pilot seat.

“Okay.”

Sitting side by side in a familiar arrangement, Suhyeok found himself reminiscing about the times when he used to talk with Juyeon about broadcasting.

A time when romantic feelings didn’t exist at all in the Spirit group.

Before Juyeon liked Suhyeok.

Before Suhyeok liked Hana.

Watching Juyeon’s back as she entered her password and searched through files, Suhyeok felt quite strange.

He suddenly realized he missed those days.

Without any worries.

When they could purely enjoy each other’s company without hesitating over whether they might hurt someone.

He didn’t know it then, but that time had become an unforgettable memory now.

“…What are you thinking about?”

Juyeon turned her head and had to face Suhyeok’s somewhat darkened expression.

…So he really didn’t want me to bring him here.

The thought made her feel both sorry and melancholic.

“Ah. Just thinking about the past.”

“What about it?”

“Just. When we used to sit like this in the first semester and talk about broadcasting.”

Internet broadcasting.

That was a complex and ambiguous memory for Juyeon as well.

While the beginning might have been fun and good, the ending was devastating.

Inside Suhyeok’s sleeve, there was still an unhealed scar.

Even though it wasn’t Juyeon’s intention, it was certainly not a good memory.

“What was it like back then?”

“Just fascinating. And fun too.”

Because they were exploring an unknown world together.

Actually, watching the channel grow through his advice was a heart-swelling experience for Suhyeok as well.

“Then what about now?”

She knew saying this would make the atmosphere strange.

But Juyeon still wanted to ask.

“Now?”

“Yes. Being with me now.”

…What does it mean to you?

Suhyeok hesitated to answer.

He couldn’t think of an appropriate response.

But if asked which time was better, it was definitely the past.

“Now is good too.”

Suhyeok now understood well that being honest wasn’t always the best policy.

“…Really?”

Juyeon turned her chair to face Suhyeok directly.

“Suhyeok.”

“Yeah?”

“Show me your arm.”

“My arm?”

“I want to see how your wound is doing.”

“Ah.”

There was still a long scar on Suhyeok’s forearm.

It was the kind of mark that might never disappear for the rest of his life.

As he unbuttoned his shirt to show the wounded area, Juyeon became even more depressed.

“…I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your doing.”

“Just… I’m sorry…”

The emotion that a passive person is most vulnerable to is ‘self-loathing’.

Looking at the scar, Juyeon felt a pang in her heart.

“It would have been better… if I didn’t exist…”

If I didn’t exist, there wouldn’t have been such an ugly scar.

He could have had a beautiful relationship with the person he likes.

He wouldn’t have needed to waste time teaching guitar to an unqualified beginner like me.

She began to think that she was troubling Suhyeok simply because she liked him.

Moisture started to gather in her eyes.

“No, Juyeon. What are you saying?”

“Why am I so”

…inadequate.

“No. Why would you think that? It wasn’t your fault. It was that psycho who did it.”

“I’m not just talking about that.”

Juyeon turned her head to look at the computer monitor again.

The sample of “So I Played the Guitar” that she hadn’t yet played for him.

Juyeon suddenly felt that even her song title was detestable.

“Suhyeok.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll send this to you separately. Let’s do the feedback another time.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine. You should go now. I’m sorry for calling you out here.”

Juyeon pushed Suhyeok up as if shooing him away.

“No, Juyeon.”

“I won’t call you again. From now on.”

Juyeon couldn’t meet Suhyeok’s eyes.

She felt like she might really cry.

She thought she might sob uncontrollably once Suhyeok left.

“Juyeon…”

“Please go.”

“No. Why are you acting like this? At least tell me why.”

“It’s just that I…”

Finally, a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I feel like I’m not helping you at all.”

Instead of answering, Suhyeok pulled Juyeon into a tight embrace.