WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? ◈
Chapter 27: Please Cast a Spell
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I barely managed to stop myself from sprawling onto the hallway floor, catching myself against the wall.
Yun Taerin snickered.
“What's with you, Uncle? So nervous you're getting dizzy?”
She seemed to think my legs had given out from nerves.
“No. There was a mosquito on the wall.”
“...In this weather?”
Instead of answering, I slapped my palms together and brushed them off for no reason.
‘Of all places.’
I never expected to hear that name here.
The meeting room from the final day of my previous life flashed through my mind. The room where he had shoved a contract in front of me and thrown me out.
But I quickly steadied my breathing. It was nothing to be surprised or intimidated by.
I wasn't particularly angry, either. Instead, I ran the numbers in my head.
‘What are the chances Kang Taeo recognizes me?’
Zero.
The Lee Han Yong this world's Kang Taeo knew was a skinny twenty-year-old who had passed an audition sixteen years ago, practiced with him for about a week, then vanished. The person standing here now was a 105-kilogram, potbellied middle-aged man wearing a hat and mask. He probably wouldn't recognize me even if I showed my whole face, and I had covered up everything I could.
If anything, this was good. He would judge us solely by the song and the sound, without any prejudice.
Besides, the “RUN” we would sing today was not a song tailored to his voice. Cha Sion's lyrics had finally completed it. It was wholly Black Rabbit's song.
‘Fine. Go ahead and listen.’
My mind cooled, and defiance rose in its place.
“It’s Kang Taeo! Muri! Uncle, did you hear?”
Yun Taerin had finally grasped the situation and was bouncing around in excitement. Murmurs were spreading through the hallway leading to the waiting area, the fresh rumor passing quickly from team to team.
“I heard.”
“It really is that Kang Taeo, right? That uncle idol my dad always sings at karaoke?”
“...Isn't ‘uncle idol’ a little harsh? He’s only thirty-six, probably.”
“Why? Everyone calls them that.”
Hearing Muri called uncle idols right in front of me gave me a strange itch under my skin. The person who had carried those “uncle idols” for sixteen years was walking right beside her. Of course, that was in the other world.
“I, I know Muri’s songs too...”
Bae Somi muttered, gripping the handle of her case tightly with both hands. Her face, already pale, had gone another shade whiter.
Cha Sion said nothing. Even upon hearing that Kang Taeo would be a special judge for the finals, she merely nodded indifferently.
“But Uncle, aren't you surprised?”
“Why would I be?”
“You don't know Muri? They're number two on the Watermelon Chart these days.”
“I know.”
Very well.
Better than anyone in this world.
The waiting area was a spacious room at the end of the hallway. Each team had a section along the walls, and a broadcast monitor hung on the front wall. It had not been in the waiting hall for the first round.
“Oh? There’s a monitor. Can we watch the stage from here?”
“Looks like it.”
I put my things down in a corner and opened my bag. I pulled my black cap down low and hooked a mask securely around my ears.
‘There are two people I need to avoid today.’
Assistant Manager Kim, somewhere in the audience.
And Kang Taeo, sitting at the judges’ table.
The four of us stood side by side in front of the posted performance order.
Number 7, Black Rabbit.
Number 10, Noise Line.
“We’re number seven. Noise Line is... last.”
“In the first round, we went right after them.”
“This time it’s the other way around. Is going last better?”
The order had flipped. Last time, we had watched them perform before going onstage. This time, they would watch us before taking the stage.
As we stepped away from the list, Noise Line’s four members entered the waiting area. Kwon Jaemin gave us a light nod when he spotted us, and Yun Taerin waved back. I only nodded as well.
Instead of greeting us, Park Taegeon glanced at the guitar case by my feet. More precisely, at the Fender visible through the slightly open gap.
“...You changed guitars?”
He tossed out the words as if speaking to himself. He had not said them expecting a reply, so I did not bother answering. Without another word, Park Taegeon headed for his team’s section.
“Did you see that? He was looking at your guitar, Uncle.”
“I saw. Guess it looked better than his.”
“...I don't think that's it.”
“W-what song do you think Noise Line is doing today?”
“They said it was an original song.”
Cha Sion answered absentmindedly as she put in her earbuds.
“Right, they said they had an original song too. What kind of song is it? I’m curious.”
“W-we can watch it on the monitor if we come back here after we're done...”
“Oh, right. Since they're last.”
Just then, Yun Taerin’s phone rang loudly in her pocket. She gasped as she checked the screen.
“Oh? They’re here!”
It appeared to be the group chat with her school friends. She suddenly held the screen up in front of my face. It was a photo of the seats near the stage, along with a large fluorescent sign that read, “YUN TAERIN, FIGHTING!!”
“Wow, this is crazy! They really made one!”
“B-but why does it say Yun Taerin instead of Black Rabbit?”
“Oh? You're right! These idiots! They should’ve put the team name, not mine!”
“Didn’t you tell them the team name?”
“Huh? Maybe? No, I think I did? Ah, whatever. Nothing I can do about it.”
That was what she said, but her mouth was already stretched from ear to ear.
The phone in my pocket vibrated briefly too.
Lee Suyeon> We got seats near the front.
Lee Suyeon> But you're wearing that red thing again?
< Why? Are you embarrassed by your little brother?
No reply came.
She wasn't actually embarrassed, was she?
#
The lights came on over the stage on the monitor.
When the host walked to center stage, the audience stirred. The sound coming through the speakers was somewhat muffled, but that alone was enough to tell it was a concert hall packed with people.
“Plugged Best Band Survival 4, the finals begin now!”
Cheers erupted with the host’s opening remarks. The teams in the waiting area gradually gathered in front of the monitor.
The host went on to explain the scoring system. The finals rules were simple and cruel. Once each team’s performance ended, the scores from all four judges would immediately appear on the electronic board below the judges’ table. A maximum of 400 points, with each judge awarding up to 100. It was a survival system where rankings shifted in real time, and the team with the highest score would win.
The three regular judges were introduced next.
“And the special guest we have invited for today’s finals. The special judge whose identity was to be revealed only here at the venue...”
The audience fell silent. So did the waiting area.
“The vocalist of Muri, Mr. Kang Taeo!”
The cheering was loud enough to make the screen shake.
A man walked out from the side of the stage and waved at the audience. The camera zoomed in on his face.
It was a face I knew well.
A face I had stood onstage with for sixteen years. The last face I had seen across the table in that meeting room. The face whose collar I had grabbed.
“Wow, he’s handsome in person.”
Yun Taerin’s appraisal reached me from beside me.
“He is handsome.”
Only afterward did I realize those words had come out of my mouth. Fortunately, no one found them strange.
“You’re a fan too, Uncle?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say he’s handsome?”
“If someone’s handsome, you say they’re handsome. What else am I supposed to say?”
The competition soon began. Starting with the first team, each team took the stage in turn, and the four of us naturally fixed our attention on the screen.
The early teams came and went. As befitted finalists, they all put on polished performances, and scores appeared on the board after each set. Three-forties. Three-fifties.
“They’re all good...”
“It’s the finals.”
The two teams Assistant Manager Kim had singled out stood out even among them.
First was Our Neighborhood Aliens.
The vocalist ran to the front of the stage from the very first line, waving an arm as though conducting the crowd. The audience jumped in unison to that gesture. The song itself was fairly ordinary, but they really knew how to have fun onstage.
“They’re really good at working the stage. Uncle, shouldn’t we do that too?”
“Do you think Sion can do that?”
“Couldn’t she...?”
Yun Taerin glanced at Cha Sion, and Cha Sion looked away.
“Should I jump around?”
“Sure. And who’s going to play the drums?”
Once the performance ended, a microphone at the judges’ table switched on. The screen moved to the judges.
The judge in the middle gave a brief comment first, then the microphone was passed to Kang Taeo.
“I really enjoyed the performance. But I think the dynamics could have been better. You go hard from beginning to end right now, so the chorus doesn't stand out.”
He was right. I had been thinking exactly the same thing while listening to the chorus.
A number appeared on the board.
362.
The four judges’ scores appeared one after another. Kang Taeo had given them 88 points. When the host announced that they were currently in first place, the audience erupted.
“362 points? Uncle, is that high?”
“It’s an average of over 90, so yes.”
“Kang Taeo only gave them 88. He’s stingy.”
It was not stinginess. He had just said the chorus did not stand out, so he had deducted accordingly.
‘...That hasn’t changed.’
Just because he was someone I hated did not mean he lacked skill. Even in my previous life, he had always had an excellent eye and ear. His talent for lyrics, his ability to captivate people onstage, and that demanding ear of his were all real. His vocal skills were only a little lacking. By my standards, anyway.
After the next team came the following act.
Blind Spot.
The moment their vocalist let out the first high note, gasps rose from throughout the waiting area. Now I understood why Assistant Manager Kim had called them monsters. Their tremendous volume and clear high notes rang through the speakers as though they would tear them apart.
“Wow, that vocalist is good.”
As Yun Taerin said, they were a band with an undeniably overwhelming vocalist.
When Blind Spot’s performance ended, Kang Taeo took the microphone again.
“The vocalist is the best out of all the teams today. But the song can’t keep up with the vocalist. Since the vocalist does everything alone, the band doesn’t show through.”
It was a pointed criticism.
And once again, it was right.
The number on the board changed.
364.
Kang Taeo had given them 89 points. Our Neighborhood Aliens’ 362 points dropped one place, and louder cheers than before burst from the audience.
“They took first by two points!”
“T-they’re that good, and they only got 89 points...”
Bae Somi hugged her bass case and hunched her shoulders tightly.
“What’s the point of only the vocalist being good? A band has to be good together. Don't get nervous.”
Yun Taerin patted Bae Somi’s back to encourage her.
Yun Taerin made it sound easy, but the number on the board could not be ignored.
364 points.
We had to surpass that to win.
“What did Noise Line bring...?”
Yun Taerin murmured to herself. Only then did I realize I had not thought about Noise Line at all. Ever since the monitor came on, the only thing filling my head had been Kang Taeo at the judges’ table.
“Mister.”
It was Cha Sion.
“What?”
“Your hands.”
“...What?”
“You haven't loosened them up since earlier.”
At Cha Sion’s remark, I looked down at my hands.
Before rehearsals or before a performance, I always did chromatic exercises to keep my fingers from stiffening. It was a routine I had followed for years. But both my hands were sitting quietly in the pockets of my red padded jacket.
“...You're right.”
A small laugh escaped me. This was all Kang Taeo’s fault.
‘The one who always kept the kids calm is getting steadied by them instead.’
I opened my case and took out the Fender. Without picking, I moved only my left hand busily over the fretboard. One fret at a time, from index finger to pinky. My stiff fingertips gradually began to loosen.
After tossing out that one remark, Cha Sion quietly turned her attention back to the monitor.
#
“Black Rabbit, you’re next. Please move to standby.”
At the staff member’s call, all four of us rose at once.
Bae Somi adjusted her grip on the case handle with both hands. Yun Taerin spun her sticks between her fingers. Cha Sion wore her guitar and walked in silence, looking straight ahead. I pulled down the brim of my cap and checked the elastic straps of my mask once more.
We passed through the hallway and went behind the curtain beside the stage. The thumping vibration of the sixth team’s bass traveled through the soles of my feet. Through a slight gap in the curtain, I could see the dazzling lights, the audience filling the hall, and the judges’ table all at once.
At the end of the judges’ table sat Kang Taeo.
I looked at him, but he was not looking this way.
Slowly, I turned my gaze and looked over the three kids beside me. It did not matter who Kang Taeo was or who sat in the audience. The owner of today’s stage was not the man at that judges’ table.
It was us.
“U-Uncle.”
“Yeah?”
“Cast a spell on me... please.”
Bae Somi spoke with her eyes tightly shut. The hand clutching her case was shaking visibly.
“You look like today’s main character.”
“...”
The trembling remained. The medicine that had worked in the first round was not working today. I furrowed my brow slightly, then spoke again as if chanting a spell.
“You look exactly like a queen today. Show them a queen’s presence.”
In that instant.
Bae Somi’s eyes flew open.
And the trembling in her fingertips stopped dead.
Right then, the previous team finished playing and thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
“Next, Black Rabbit. Get ready.”
The staff member pointed toward the stage. I adjusted my guitar strap and looked back at the three of them.
“Let’s go! Time to tear the stage apart!”
Footnotes:
“Watermelon Chart” is a playful euphemism for a major Korean music chart.
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