The heavy wooden door of the H-Wnot rehearsal room creaked open as I stepped inside, my cheek still burning from the lingering sting of the conservatory roof. I took a deep breath of the familiar room, smelling the faint scent of valve oil, dusty carpet, and polished wood.
I looked at the group. There were no other club bands practicing in the adjacent rooms today; the entire clubroom was dead silent.
"Where is everyone?" I asked, unzipping my dark jacket and setting my phone on the amplifier.
Jin-hyun looked up from adjusting the tension on his snare drum, letting out a bright, flashing laugh.
"Not everyone is as completely crazy as us to train every single day, Mountain! Most of the indie bands take Mondays off to recover from weekend gigs."
I let out a soft chuckle, stretching my shoulders.
"Well... let's just hope that my recent history test results actually push my average into the Top 100 benchmark, or H-Wnot will literally cease to exist by administrative decree."
Myung-dae, sitting in the dark corner with his bass slung low over his knees, let out a short, cynical chuckle. "Finally. Some good news."
I completely ignored the Prince of Darkness's comment, turning my attention straight to our Student President.
"Jun-seo-ah, how's the last revision of Winter Run coming along? Did the chord progression hold up?"
Before Jun-seo could answer, Jin-hyun interrupted with an enthusiastic wave of his drumsticks. "Overall, it's genuinely great! Our black cat here"—he pointed a stick directly at Myung-dae, who shot him a glare that could melt steel—"made a few brilliant corrections to the bassline drive and adjusted the vocal line distribution a little."
Jun-seo nodded, turning his laptop toward me.
"Yeah, look here. The transition into the chorus hits much cleaner now."
We spent the next hour locked in pure, intense rehearsal, finalizing every bar of "Winter Run" for the upcoming holiday showcase.
It wasn't a solo effort like Frequency had been. Back then, I had basically dumped my raw track onto their stands and forced them to adapt. This time, every single member was actively carving their own signature into the arrangement.
I did notice that Leo looked a little dissatisfied during the bridge; he kept frowning slightly at his sheet music because his violin parts were fractionally shorter than the massive solos he'd executed in Frequency. But to balance the festive energy, Jin-hyun had mounted a set of genuine sleigh bells directly onto his cymbals stand. Whenever his right foot drove the kick drum, a sharp, bright Christmas chime echoed through the heavy bassline.
More or less, everyone enjoyed taking part in the composition process. It felt... remarkably cozy. Fine.
I didn't quite know how to describe the sudden, warm feeling that expanded in my chest while watching the five of us locked in the exact same rhythm. I just hoped, deep down in my soul, that they felt that exact same unity whenever we stood together as a whole. For the first time all day, despite the breakup and the academic terror, I felt fine.
"Alright guys!" I called out, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead as the final chord faded into the foam walls. "I have evening academy tonight, and if I'm late, Mrs. Lee will literally end my existence!"
I paused, slinging my heavy backpack over one shoulder.
"Or worse... she'll revoke my credit card."
Dismissing those horrifying nightmares, I quickly said my goodbyes and sprinted out, hitting the cold evening air of the Kirin courtyard.
The sun had already dropped below the horizon, the winter sky shifting into a deep, icy twilight. The days were shrinking rapidly as winter asserted its absolute authority over the world.
In the distance, the high stadium lights of the sports hall and the indoor swimming pool were blazing brightly. The sports jocks were still hard at work; since most of them lived in the on-campus dormitories, they had zero reason not to train late into the evening.
As I jogged past the athletic fence, a familiar face from Class 2-B waved to me from the track. I was terrible with names and often forgot them entirely, so I simply knew him as "that broad-shouldered guy of Swim Club from my row."
"What's up, man!" I yelled back in English, waving my hand before picking up my pace toward the main gates.
As I neared the outer boulevard leading toward the transit stop, my eyes caught a sleek, dark vehicle parked quietly under the shadow of the streetlamps.
It was a black luxury sedan. The exact model and license plate frame of Ji-hoon's prosecutor car.
'Huh?' I stopped mid-stride, blinking. 'What is Ji-hoon-hyung doing all the way over near the Kirin gates? Is he working on a case around here? Why didn't he text me or Ha-neul to say he could give us a ride home?'
Driven by my innate curiosity, I stepped closer, leaning over the hood to pry through the heavily tinted side windows. But the privacy film was pitch black; I couldn't see a single thing inside the cabin.
I shook my head. If Hyung wasn't busy, he would have definitely informed us. He's probably handling a high-priority legal deposition nearby.
I couldn't waste another second playing a low-budget spy on my own host brother.
I turned on my heel and sprinted the remaining fifty meters to the bus stop, barely managing to leap through the closing doors of the transit line bound for the Golden Triangle.