The Reincarnated Idol Hard Carries an Indie Band - Chapter 108

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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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The Former Idol Does Indie Band Hard Carry
Episode 108
Cha Seo Ha stepped forward into the audience seating, microphone in hand.
It was a move we hadn’t agreed to.
Right at the moment when he should have thrown out the first verse with perfect precision.
The bastard grinned at the crowd while singing.
That crazy son of a bitch.
“Riot” is Symphonic Rock.
A piece that demands building a vast narrative in a single breath.
It’s music that only comes together when all five of us on stage converge into a single point, pushing forward without gaps.
Like an orchestral performance.
But Cha Seo Ha was deliberately breaking that concentration right now.
Audience interaction on a stage like this?
He reached out to the audience seating, subtly pushed the beat forward, and kept glancing away from the stage.
Who does that kind of audience engagement on a stage with this much weight?
It’s not even Punk Rock.
Heo Jun Sung was the first to crack.
Cha Seo Ha kept breaking formation to interact with the audience.
And in response to the rising energy from the crowd, Heo Jun Sung couldn’t help but get excited.
His riff timing fell just slightly behind.
Of course it did—Cha Seo Ha was pushing the beat like that.
Kang Min’s drum tempo started drifting too, trying to follow Cha Seo Ha.
Maybe a tenth of a second off.
But it was noticeable.
Lee Do Young looked over at me in panic.
That look of “What do we do?”
The tension we’d been building in the Intro was about to collapse like a sandcastle.
At this rate—
the stage we’d prepared as a perfect 100 would become nothing but a chaotic mess scoring less than 80.
I couldn’t just sit with it.
How could I let that happen?
I concentrated everything into my fingertips.
Like a surgeon performing an operation.
I dropped a heavy Synth Bass note—Thump—and locked back in Kang Min’s drifting tempo first.
With a very tight, controlled feel.
I was anchoring the rhythm without disrupting the song.
Once I played it, I realized it actually worked as good direction.
It added tension to Cha Seo Ha’s flighty movements—exactly what the song needed.
Then I threw a short lead line with my right hand, signaling Heo Jun Sung.
‘Follow me.’
He understood and matched my riff, keeping his composure.
I locked eyes with Lee Do Young to mark where he should come in.
I started stitching together with the keyboard every space that Cha Seo Ha had carelessly opened up.
Like joining and suturing a surgical wound.
When he lost the beat, I reeled it back in.
When he let the mood drift outward, I poured everything into rebuilding the narrative.
By the time I came back to myself, I was holding the blade of this stage.
It was strange.
This was a stage Cha Seo Ha had clearly wrecked.
I was drowning in cleanup.
But it was fun.
Not reproducing a fixed score with perfect precision.
This was catching something crumbling moment by moment, improvising to fill the gaps, having silent conversations with friends through glances.
Raw. Living. Music.
The crowd answered Cha Seo Ha’s antics with roars.
And above the playing I’d stabilized, those cheers kept swelling.
It wasn’t perfect.
Not the 100-point stage we’d prepared.
But this 90-point stage was undeniably alive, moving, breathing.
“Damn it…….”
A surprised laugh burst out of me.
I wondered why cleaning up after Cha Seo Ha’s shenanigans was turning out to be so damn fun.
We’d done this before.
More than a few times.
That was Banwol Park.
Drunks would wander in mid-performance. Audience members would shout out songs we didn’t know, and we’d stumble through chaotic renditions.
Sometimes it rained. Sometimes it snowed.
There were nights we played terrible shows in the brutal cold.
Every time, Cha Seo Ha would abandon all concern for polish and just enjoy the moment.
Lee Do Young would be flustered. Heo Jun Sung would get excited and play whatever he wanted.
Kang Min would just giggle.
Sometimes he wouldn’t even play the drums.
I was always in the middle of it, patching up the wounded stage.
That was my role.
And I loved it.
I’m remembering the old days a lot right now.
As the final note faded, the audience erupted.
A standing ovation.
Every face that had been full of curiosity and doubt rose to their feet and roared.
Catching my breath, I glared at Cha Seo Ha in the center of the stage.
He was drenched in sweat, grinning at me again.
…That smile.
I really wanted to punch him.
* * *
The moment we came down from the stage after filming wrapped, I grabbed Cha Seo Ha.
“Hey.”
“What.”
The others just kept walking. It was just the two of us.
“What was that? Pulling something we never rehearsed?”
There was an edge to my voice.
This was our debut stage in America.
And he’d carelessly shaken up a performance we’d practiced countless times.
I didn’t think that was what a leader should do.
But Cha Seo Ha answered with total composure.
“Wasn’t it fun?”
“……What?”
For a moment I was so speechless I couldn’t form words.
“This is our first start in America.”
He continued, wiping the sweat from his face.
“I wanted to do it like when we first performed in Banwol Park.”
Banwol Park.
That small park where nobody gave us a second look.
Back then Heo Jun Sung and Lee Do Young had problems too, and there was something fun about overcoming them.
It was fun, yeah.
And remembering the old days.
Even though I thought that without meaning to, different words came out of my mouth.
“Even so—you want to come all the way to America and pull this?”
He’d gambled with our debut stage.
By any sane standard, that was insane.
But Cha Seo Ha just laughed like it was nothing.
“So, Kim Ji Hu—you having fun?”
“What?”
“I just needed you to be having fun.”
“That doesn’t…….”
“Is an America debut stage more important than a friend?”
It was like getting hit over the head.
A friend is more important.
He doesn’t even know what I’m dealing with.
He doesn’t know why I’m wavering like this, what’s buried deep in my chest.
And yet he hit exactly the rawest nerve.
I’ve spent my whole life—
believing I could only belong if I was useful.
I had to get into med school to become a complete part of this family.
But Cha Seo Ha just says it so casually.
That you matter more than the debut stage.
Like, if I’m going to send you off, do it cool—but if I’m going to hold on, I’ll hold on with everything I’ve got.
Is Cha Seo Ha actually holding on to me with everything right now?
“……What is that supposed to mean?”
That’s all I managed to mutter.
Cha Seo Ha waved his hand instead of answering and walked toward the other members.
Watching his receding figure, I stood there for a long time, overwhelmed by a feeling I couldn’t name.
* * *
“That was an amazing performance!”
Marcus strode over and grabbed Cha Seo Ha’s hand eagerly.
The former bassist musician couldn’t hide his excitement.
“To be honest, it wasn’t a perfect stage.”
As expected.
Someone who’d spent a lifetime in this industry caught those microscopic tremors.
“There were some shaky parts in the middle, and the interpretation could’ve been better, but…….”
Marcus tapped his own chest.
“My heart was racing! I can’t remember the last time I saw a stage that alive.”
“…….”
“A machine can do a perfect performance. But what I saw today—only humans can do that.”
He was saying the imperfection was what made it better.
For someone who’d chased nothing but 100 points their whole life, that struck a sharp chord.
“Next time, let’s see it on a bigger stage. I’m hoping you’ll come back to America, bigger than ever.”
Marcus spent a long time talking with Jo Hyun Seop.
And Cha Seo Ha was there in the middle of it.
He had that usual look of absorbing something from the conversation.
But today, I didn’t feel like prying into what he was scheming.
* * *
After filming completely wrapped—
we finally headed to that place Heo Jun Sung had been going on about singing about.
“Out and In! Out and Iiiiin!!”
Heo Jun Sung screamed before we even got out of the car.
The moment he walked through the door, he shouted without even looking at the menu.
“Four patties! Four patty burger!”
“You’re actually gonna eat that?”
“I’m eating two!”
“They say if you leave any, they mix you into hell.”
“So it’s a Shack burger, then?”
“Seriously, this is so damn annoying.”
A moment later, a burger stacked with four actual patties arrived.
Heo Jun Sung received it in both hands and reverently took a bite.
“Ahhhhhh…….”
Tears began to glisten in his eyes.
“Hey, you crazy bastard—can you not make that sound?”
“No, seriously—I’m genuinely annoyed.”
“Yeah, Jun Sung—that sound really doesn’t work.”
“Good grief…….”
A barrage of four voices pelted him, but Heo Jun Sung didn’t care at all.
“This is… heaven….”
We all shook our heads like we were disappointed.
But still, none of our smiles faded.
The end of a long, long day.
The night after our first stage in America.
And that rich, salty burger was melting away every ounce of exhaustion.
* * *
Back at the Hotel, I washed up, got ready for bed, and lay down on the mattress.
“Hey, Kim Ji Hu.”
“What.”
“Check out what I just sent.”
Heo Jun Sung sent me a YouTube link.
I’m not sure if it’s trending these days.
I didn’t laugh because I didn’t get what it was.
“Not funny?”
“Not funny.”
“You’re really something…….”
Heo Jun Sung kept his eyes on his phone and chuckled to himself.
“Hey, Kim Ji Hu.”
“What now?”
“I never thought a day like this would come in my life.”
“Really?”
“You know, my family’s poor. I couldn’t even buy a single candy when I was little.”
“I know. I was always buying them for you.”
His voice wasn’t the loud, obnoxious tone he usually had.
His eyes were still focused on the phone.
His fingers kept scrolling.
But there was weight in his words.
I wondered what old memory he was bringing up and where this was heading.
It already felt like something I wouldn’t be able to handle.

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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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