The Reincarnated Idol Hard Carries an Indie Band - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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A Former Idol’s Indie Band Hard Carry
Chapter 10
An intense Ensemble Performance.
Lee Do-young’s Bass Guitar carved through the song with rapid Sixteenth Note Fast Fingering, driving the tempo forward.
The pre-recorded Drums blended tom and snare with precision, layering grandeur and rhythmic punch.
Cha Seo-ha sang over it all—raw, desperate, intoxicating.
Capturing every ounce of the original’s soul.
“Wow, that’s incredible!”
“Wait, what song is this? I love it.”
“My head’s just—like this—spinning!”
“Total madness.”
The audience savored the song in their own ways.
For listeners unfamiliar with rock, the recognition was on par with their earlier track, Fireman, but
London Syndrome had better momentum and an undeniable hook that grabbed hold.
Smiles bloomed across the crowd.
Lee Do-young seemed to recover some confidence watching them.
Yet something was still missing.
Kim Ji-hu’s expression hadn’t softened—far from satisfied.
More. He needed more.
‘Commit. Really commit, Lee Do-young.’
Seconds later, every instrument locked into the same rhythm, signaling a shift—a bend toward something entirely new.
An atmosphere of hurtling into another world altogether.
An eerie, unnamable sound stretched long and low.
Then came the first Chorus.
This is the last time
I’ll abandon you
and this is the last time
I’ll forget you
Kim Ji-hu’s Keyboard joined in, and the Chorus erupted—mysterious, luminous.
This Chorus belonged to the Keyboard.
And Lee Do-young’s Bass Guitar had to anchor it, weighty and firm.
It wasn’t bad.
But it wasn’t brilliant either.
Though the audience seemed to disagree entirely.
“That’s killer!”
“What’s this song called again?”
“No clue, I can’t remember….”
The moment the Chorus hit, cheers gave way to murmurs.
They were reacting to the shift—the unexpected turn.
And positively so.
Kim Ji-hu again. Of course.
A genuinely brilliant choice.
After the Chorus, the Interlude came: Heo Jun-sung’s Guitar played the main riff short and sharp, then dove back into the Verse.
Cha Seo-ha was unmistakably the most alive on stage.
Fierce in the Verse.
Delicate in the Chorus.
And raw, untamed at the finish.
It was a song made for singing.
Cha Seo-ha was drowning in it.
Whatever the band’s unity looked like, he seemed intent only on his own work—and it showed.
The audience had no choice but to be pulled under by him.
‘Is this right?’
Kim Ji-hu hated it.
‘He’s good, clearly, but….’
Cha Seo-ha’s skill was beyond question.
More than just the strongest among them—he’d already reached that high place, that distant summit.
‘So why won’t he lift Lee Do-young up?’
It was the same in rehearsals.
He’d push Heo Jun-sung and Kim Ji-hu with all sorts of demands, yet with Lee Do-young he was strangely silent—offering nothing.
Despite Lee Do-young being the weakest link in the current performance.
‘Hands-off type? Or does he give limitless trust to his close friends?’
Kim Ji-hu was losing interest in the Ensemble Performance.
And now the second Chorus arrived.
Kim Ji-hu and Cha Seo-ha each executed their roles flawlessly.
Heo Jun-sung looked quite solid.
Lee Do-young was competent but seemed to be coasting—underpowered, uneven.
This is my RULE!!
Cha Seo-ha gripped the Microphone with both hands and roared the final line of the second Chorus.
Then the Interlude followed.
Heo Jun-sung’s main riff played out short and tight.
Immediately after came the Solo Part—where Guitar and Bass Guitar would unleash a storm of power together.
In just a few seconds.
Only seconds away now.
Cha Seo-ha strode toward Lee Do-young with easy confidence, almost skipping.
‘Huh?’
Why is he coming at me like that?
Before Lee Do-young could form a thought, something wrapped around his neck.
Cha Seo-ha’s arm.
Cha Seo-ha locked him in a shoulder embrace and dragged him to center stage.
Technically, the Guitar was the hero of this section.
But for the Guitar to shine, it needed a Bass Guitar that could absolutely devastate with rapid Sixteenth Note Fast Fingering.
Without warning, Cha Seo-ha had just thrust the leading role onto Lee Do-young.
In less than a second, ten thousand thoughts scattered through Lee Do-young’s mind.
Can I pull this off?
I don’t have any star quality.
What if I ruin this song?
Cha Seo-ha knew that Lee Do-young was a rare player without ambition.
Put kindly: he had a habit of yielding the spotlight to his bandmates. Put harshly: he shied from bearing full responsibility.
But Lee Do-young’s true power surfaced only when he became the last line of defense.
When it all falls on me.
When the band goes under if I don’t hold.
‘All right. I have to nail this.’
Strip away every other complication, reduce him to that single premise, and he revealed something unexpected.
Deeper fundamentals than anyone suspected. Quicker instincts than anyone imagined.
Lee Do-young had no faith in himself.
Which meant he couldn’t escape—not even before the crowd’s glowing eyes fixed on him.
So then….
‘Forget it all.’
There was only one option: surrender to the music.
Cha Seo-ha’s arm fell from Lee Do-young’s neck.
Not because Cha Seo-ha let go.
Because Lee Do-young had already launched himself forward.
He bore the weight of the Bass Guitar and unleashed fluid, rapid fingering.
His gaze locked entirely on the strings.
But it wasn’t the look of someone unsure.
It was absolute absorption—in his own playing, in his bandmates, in the music itself.
This was the section in the original that felt like falling into an abyss.
Violent. Fierce enough that “brutal” wouldn’t be out of place.
Lee Do-young was meeting it head-on.
Halfway through, Heo Jun-sung had a thought.
‘I want in.’
Heo Jun-sung seized the moment, snatched up his Guitar, and sprinted to Lee Do-young’s side, their backs pressed together.
“KYAAAAAAH!”
“WHOOOA!!!”
The second Lee Do-young felt something touch his back, instinct twisted his body to the right.
The two of them spiraled into rapture, the crowd to one side, lost to the world.
Sweat scattered through the air. Lee Do-young’s right arm was burning.
Even though the evening air should have been cool, summer was devouring their stamina—but neither yielded.
They didn’t care about the exhaustion.
This playing—our perfect fit—it was pure joy.
A few sloppy touches slipped through, but the power was so overwhelming that the mistakes felt intentional.
The audience lost themselves cheering, their voices climbing higher and higher.
The crowd was spellbound until, suddenly, the Solo Part ended.
Heo Jun-sung threw in a few strokes—a cocky look that said this was nothing.
Lee Do-young, meanwhile, paired a fluid Glissando with a bright, open smile toward the crowd before he withdrew.
The contrast between them—their warmth, their presence—left a striking impression as they exited.
Then came the final Chorus.
‘What the….’
Kim Ji-hu had no idea what he’d just witnessed.
“Oh!”
A Keyboard key slipped under his finger—a mistouch.
His first mistake since joining the band.
At least the crowd wouldn’t notice.
‘That was incredible…. Was it on purpose?’
Cha Seo-ha had seemed determined not to cushion Lee Do-young at all.
And yet, at the critical moment—
precisely when everyone expected the Guitar to dominate—
he’d shoved Lee Do-young to center stage.
No—thrust him over a cliff.
Lee Do-young had no choice but to fight for his life.
And he’d delivered his part brilliantly.
Plus, Heo Jun-sung had made a stunning duet.
They’d shone.
For the first time, Kim Ji-hu wondered.
Could technical perfection ever outshine what he’d just seen?
The final Chorus ended.
The Outro rolled forward, never losing its intensity or its heavy atmosphere.
Watching it, Kim Ji-hu could be certain of one thing:
Lee Do-young had surrendered entirely to the music and found his confidence.
And he was growing.
“These guys are fun.”
It had been forever since he’d found something more entertaining than perfect technique.
“YEAAAHHHHH!”
“KYAAAHHH!”
“That was amazing!”
As London Syndrome ended, the crowd erupted—their loudest cheer yet.
The biggest roar of the whole show.
“Thank you!”
Kim Ji-hu watched Lee Do-young, suddenly awakened to something, and found him fascinating.
And Cha Seo-ha, who’d drawn that out? Even more so.
Meanwhile, Lee Do-young was thinking:
‘Playing live…. is this much fun…?’
The realization had hit him like a wave.
* * *
“Everyone, we’ve got one more song for you.”
“Nooooo!”
“Don’t go!”
“Play more!”
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
“Ha! There’s still one track left, so we’ll take that Encore later.”
The crowd had grown since the start.
Rock doesn’t move in Korea these days, or so they say—but seeing an audience like this, small as it is, gives you hope.
“So, the next song…. is….”
Come to think of it, this final track was that one.
“Ahem. Um….”
“Hey, why aren’t you introducing the next song?”
“Oh, I will—hold on a sec.”
Just as Cha Seo-ha was about to introduce ‘that song,’ Heo Jun-sung butted in with mischief in his voice.
“What, is it because it’s your favorite anime song and it’s awkward?”
“No! That’s not my favorite song at all!”
Murmurs rippled through the audience.
“Anime? Animation?”
“Guess he’s into animation.”
“Hope it’s not some weird creepy anime stuff….”
“Doesn’t seem like the type, though…?”
“You never know…. Musicians tend to be big fans of weird stuff.”
“Huh. Fair point.”
“Think he’s one of those hardcore fans too.”
Damn. They’re hearing all of it.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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