During lunch, I prepared for the performance evaluation with my group members again.
Fortunately, the playing was a lot more stable than when we first put it together.
Still, there was no shortage of lingering unease.
Seeing how things were, there was something I wanted to propose.
Actually… it had been something I’d been mulling over for a while.
“If it’s okay… what if we don’t stick to the original song structure and… tweak it a bit to fit our style?”
I offered my opinion to the two of them.
“Like how?”
“Well….”
With that, I explained my ideas as if giving a presentation.
In my view, the playing wavered a lot more in the verse section from the intro than in the chorus.
The chorus has clearly defined notes and melody, and it sits in a comfortable range, so she can belt it out without much trouble.
But from the intro to the verse, there was a lack of precision in hitting the exact notes.
So I suggested changing the song structure—starting with the chorus, then having her carry through the bridge into the next chorus.
“What do you think?”
“Oh… honestly, this is way more comfortable for me. I don’t really know the beginning of this song that well….”
Fortunately, Yeonju had a positive reaction.
And here, there was one more thing I wanted to change.
Actually… what I brought up earlier was meant to cover up the weaknesses.
The real point was what I was about to say next.
This time, it was about maximizing the strengths.
“And also… Yeonju, you can keep going with that wistful ballad feel, staying at the slow tempo. It suits you.”
“Yeah. But?!”
“Once you finish the bridge section, that’s when I’ll throw in a variation, and then Yena, you can come right in with the chorus at a tempo and vibe similar to the original song.”
Yeah, that was the direction to maximize the strengths.
Yena, after all… I thought this side suited her better.
And if we did the whole first and second verse in that mellow style, it might get a bit boring.
Letting it flow calmly, then having Yena’s entrance flip the whole atmosphere—that would probably work better.
Besides… it’s a dramatic technique commonly used in arrangements anyway.
Usually, having drums come in at that variation section is the most standard and effective approach.
But… well, we don’t have that kind of setup right now, so there’s nothing we can do.
“Oh! That works. I think it’s gonna sound awesome. Yena?”
Yeonju seems fine with just about anything.
Following Yeonju’s lead, I turned to look at Yena.
I mean, these are my thoughts, but in the end, she has to be satisfied with it.
Maybe I’m reading the situation wrong.
“So, I just do it like the original song?”
Yena seemed a bit unsure.
In cases like this… it’s probably best to just try it and let her understand through doing.
“Yeah, let’s just… try it for now. It’ll be better for you guys to hear it and judge.”
“Okay.”
.
.
.
And so, we began the new arrangement of our joint practice.
First, Yeonju safely started from the chorus and finished the bridge section.
I pressed the keys deeply and held them long until that point.
Then suddenly, I slammed down on the keys—tang-tang-tang-tang—announcing the variation, and shifted forcefully into the original song’s tempo.
And… thankfully, Yena caught the timing of the new beat and came in cleanly at exactly the right moment.
Ah… my body is trembling.
Every time we lock in this perfectly, I get goosebumps so intense it drives me crazy.
With a satisfied smile, I played the keys with a light bounce.
Having painted the perfect picture in my head, the joint practice came to an end.
“Whoa, I almost thought we were in some kind of competition.”
“For real. That was sick. I like this way way better.”
And it seemed I wasn’t the only one who felt it was a perfect moment.
Yeonju and Yena both showed their honest satisfaction.
What a relief.
***
“Let’s all give it our best through the finish.”
I gathered up the sheet music I had set down and offered a closing remark.
As I was getting ready to head back to the classroom, Yeonju seemed to have somewhere to be in a hurry.
“We’re all done, right? Then, I’m heading out first!”
With that, she opened the door and left.
Yena just stood there, blankly watching me.
Like someone waiting for me to join her.
Aware of Yena’s gaze, I hurried a bit with my cleanup.
“Hey, but why did you suddenly want to change it?”
Yena brought it up out of nowhere.
What…?!
Maybe she’s actually upset about the sudden change.
Then again, we had already been practicing the old way…
“Oh… well. I just thought you sounded way better this way, so I….”
I said that in a somewhat deflated voice.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been pushing my own ideas too hard.
“Really…? Oh, I see.”
“Is it because I asked to change it so suddenly…?”
“No! It’s not that… it’s not that, but….”
Contrary to my expectations, Yena was speaking hesitantly.
What, then why did she ask with such a scary look?
I was over here worried she was upset for nothing.
“What a relief. I’ve been thinking you’d sound better singing this way.”
“Why… do you think that?”
“Your tone fits this better, and the way you sing right now, you actually look like you’re enjoying it.”
Yeah, the brighter, more upbeat style suited her much better than before.
Her vocalization was good too, and with that clean voice that stretches out beautifully, this direction was more fitting for Yena.
It felt like she had completely ridden the wave of the song. And the look on her face, too.
-Thud.
“Y-yes…?”
With that dull sound, Yena smacked me on the shoulder.
It wasn’t a serious hit like the backhand I got last time, though.
It was a force I could tell was playful.
The only downside was that I still couldn’t figure out the intent behind it.
“You’re talking nonsense. What do you know!”
“I don’t know much… but even with my limited knowledge, it seems true. And you said it was fine too, right?”
When I said that, Yena hemmed and hawed for a moment before spinning around.
“Yeah… I do like it.”
Her voice came out low, almost like a mutter.
If I hadn’t been listening carefully, I might not have even realized she said anything at all.
“L-let’s go! Hurry! Lunch is almost over!!”
Without giving me a chance to respond, she tossed that out and hastily left the practice room.
Wait… weren’t you waiting for me so we could walk together?
.
.
.
On my way back to the classroom alone, I ran into Sohee and Ahyeon, walking arm in arm.
Honestly, running into Choi Ahyeon at school was twice as awkward than usual.
But Choi Ahyeon didn’t seem to care much anymore.
“Oh, Jinho.”
She called my name.
Maybe it was because we had made direct eye contact head-on, so she had no choice but to acknowledge me.
Or maybe… she genuinely thought she could treat me like before now.
“Is that so? Jino, hi!”
When Ahyeon acknowledged me first, Sohee, who was clinging to her, greeted me too.
Jino.
Hearing that name from Sohee’s voice is still definitely awkward.
Especially with Choi Ahyeon right there… it almost feels like the two of them swapped souls.
“Jino…?”
And that name seemed just as unfamiliar to Choi Ahyeon.
I could see her mulling it over to herself.
“Jino, when are we doing it again?!”
Sohee immediately attached herself to me and asked in a bright voice.
By the way… shouldn’t she be asking Choi Ahyeon first instead of me?
Since it’s a group thing whenever Ahyeon does it.
With that thought, I glanced over at Choi Ahyeon.
It seemed Sohee caught that look too.
“Ahyeona, are we practicing today? Can I tag along again?”
She immediately turned her head and redirected the question to Ahyeon.
But with a question like that, she’d probably say to do it today.
We practice almost every day anyway.
The audition is right around the corner. And aside from that, it’s not like practicing every day is necessarily producing some tangible result.
It’s probably just that she can’t stand the anxiety and impatience of sitting still.
It’s kind of like a routine. Getting a sense of stability from doing it.
From that perspective… it’s not a meaningless repetition. Mental management is a crucial thing, after all.
“Oh… no. I’m taking a break today. Let’s… do it next time.”
But for once, Ahyeon refused, saying she wanted to rest today.
That was unexpected.
I couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason, but she’s usually the type who never skips it.
“Ugh… that’s a bummer. Well, next time then.”
Sohee transparently showed her disappointment.
Well, nothing I can do about it then.
“Yeah, let’s do it whenever the chance comes up.”
***
The next morning.
Yesterday, I spent a rare, relaxed evening alone at home.
As you know, I surprisingly didn’t practice for the audition.
Well, with that free time, I was able to put a bit more effort into the performance evaluation practice.
[Jino, I think I’m gonna be late 😠come out 10 minutes late]
During my morning run, I got that text message from Ahyeon.
I was already outside… why would she send that now.
Hmm, did she sleep in? She’d been waking up fine lately.
Nothing I can do about it. Maybe I’ll just do some stretching by myself.
And so, I met Choi Ahyeon a bit later than usual.
When I saw her, her complexion looked really bad.
“…Are you sick?”
It was bad enough that the question slipped out on its own.
“Ugh, no, I’m fine.”
But she answered that she was fine.
Even so, there was still… a lingering unease in my mind.
But since she said so, we went for the run.
And it seemed like that choice was a mistake.
.
.
.
Ahyeon, who had been running right beside me, suddenly collapsed mid-run.
Yeah, not tripping or stumbling—she just dropped flat.