"One, two. One, two."
My voice boomed across the empty seats of the amphitheater, echoing off the stone walls. I looked at the sound engineer in the booth—a terrified first-year who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"More gain on the mic," I commanded. "And push the bass. I want the ground to shake."
"Let it kill us," Myung-dae grunted, twisting a knob on his amp. "Better to die loud than live quiet."
I looked at Jin-hyun. He was spinning his sticks, a dangerous grin plastered on his face.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Always," he replied.
"H-Wnot. Sound check. 'Collision'. From the top."
I didn't count in. I just nodded.
CRASH.
Jin-hyun hit the snare like a gunshot. Myung-dae's bass kicked in—a low, distorted growl that vibrated in my chest cavity. Jun-seo's guitar cut through the heavy rhythm with a sharp, jagged riff.
It wasn't polite. It wasn't the clean, radio-friendly pop of $iren.
It was raw, ugly, beautiful noise.
I grabbed the mic stand.
"하나, 둘, 셋!"
My voice came out as a growl, scratching against the melody.
We played for three minutes.
We didn't hold back.
We played with the anger.
"Find your frequency..."
When we hit the final breakdown, I saw the Hanyeong students—who were still loitering near the exit—stop dead in their tracks. Kang Do-jin turned around, his smug expression faltering for the first time.
We finished with a dissonant chord that hung in the air, screeching with feedback.
I stood there, panting, sweat trickling down my temple (carefully avoiding the hairline).
Ms. Choi was standing in the front row. She wasn't smiling. But she was tapping her pen against her clipboard.
"It is... abrasive," she announced, her voice cutting through the ringing in our ears.
She looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"But it is undeniable. Keep the volume. Clear the stage. Hanyeong is next."
7:00 PM. The Main Event.
The sun had vanished.
The amphitheater was now a cauldron of light and noise.
Every seat was filled.
Students from Kirin and Hanyeong were packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
Glow sticks—Blue for Kirin, Red for Hanyeong—waved in the dark like competing armies.
Backstage, the air was cold.
"And now..." the MC's voice echoed, amplified a thousand times. "Please welcome the pride of Hanyeong Arts High School... THE MONARCHS!"
The crowd erupted in a roar of Red.
On the monitors, we watched them.
Kang Do-jin walked out, holding a violin. He was backed by a full rock ensemble—electric cello, synthesizer, drums, and lead guitar.
They started playing.
I had to admit... they were good.
No wonder Kang Do-jin is part of that so-called... What was the name I read on Kirin's Secret?
Ah.
"Golden Genertion."
I prefer the name I gave them.
'Royal Flush." I couldn't help but chuckle.
It was a symphonic rock fusion.
"Hm, I have some idea for the next song... Violin and rock... Cold... But Burning... Cold Burn? Hm... I'll discuss it later with the Leo and Myung-dae." I muttered under my breath.
Do-jin's violin played a lightning-fast Paganini caprice over a heavy metal backing track. It was technically flawless. Virtuosic. Expensive.
"They're showing off," Myung-dae muttered, peeking through the curtain. "Look at that bow speed. He's just doing scales fast."
"Ah? Yes." I was dragged out my thoughts of next song ideas.
Right. We need to win it. Or there won't be any nexts or presents.
"The crowd loves it," Jun-seo whispered, looking pale again. "Listen to them."
The Hanyeong side was chanting.
"DO-JIN! DO-JIN!"
They finished their set with a pyrotechnic blast that lit up the night sky. Do-jin bowed like a conductor, soaking in the adoration.
"Thank you!" Do-jin shouted into the mic. "That is what excellence sounds like! Can Kirin even compare?"
He walked off stage, high-fiving his bandmates.
As they passed us in the narrow hallway, Do-jin stopped. He was sweating, exhilarated.
"Top that," he sneered, bumping my shoulder. "Try not to trip on the cables. The floor is slippery with our talent."
I just brushed my shoulder off as if he were dust.
I hoped I looked cool(nah, I looked cringe asf).
"H-Wnot," the stage manager called out, looking at his clipboard with a frown. "You're the closers. You have ten minutes to set up. You're on in five."
I turned to the band.
Jun-seo was staring at the floor. Myung-dae was cracking his knuckles. Leo was hyperventilating slightly. Jin-hyun was... checking his reflection in a cymbal.
"Hey," I said.
They looked at me.
"Do you hear that?" I pointed to the audience.
They were chanting Hanyeong's name.
The energy was against us.
We were the underdogs.
Only living off the W-Naut's previous fame.
"They think we're a joke," I said. "They think we're a broken band with a foreigner mascot."
I rolled my sleeves up one more inch, exposing the veins in my forearms.
"Let's show them what happens when you corner a wolf."
I grabbed my mic stand.
"Enough thinking," I said, looking Jun-seo in the eye. "Just play."
"H-Wnot! GO!" the manager shouted.
We walked out of the darkness and into the blinding white light.
The cheering faltered.
The Kirin students clapped, but it was tentative.
They remembered the rumors.
They remembered W-Naut.
I walked to the center of the stage.
I didn't bow.
I didn't introduce us.
I grabbed the mic.
I looked up at the VIP box where Chairman Park and Chairman Yoo were sitting.
I looked at the sea of Red blazers.
I smirked.
"This is for the ghosts," I whispered.
I stomped my foot.
하나, 둘, 셋!