My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? - Chapter 37

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Potter

◈ My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? ◈

Chapter 37: This Is Our Rehearsal Room

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“...So, can I finally start spending some money?”

Apparently, the words I had only muttered to myself had slipped out. Assistant Manager Kim’s head suddenly popped up over the partition.

“So what are you buying first? A guitar?”

“Don’t you have work to do? Why are you watching me?”

“You’re being self-conscious, Manager.”

“Ahem. I haven’t decided what to buy yet. I need to think about it.”

“Must be nice. Maybe I’ll go home and study composition too.”

I waved Assistant Manager Kim away and turned back to my monitor. My eyes were on the Excel sheet, but my mind was already doing different calculations.

First, a laptop. If I wanted to work on songs properly, I had to replace that scrap heap that started lagging after only a few tracks. Then a MIDI keyboard. I needed monitor speakers too, and if possible, an amp...

‘There’s too much to buy. I’ll sort it out after work.’

I shook off the stray thoughts and focused on my job again.

After dinner on my way home, I entered my studio apartment building and came face-to-face with the landlady as she came down the stairs.

“Hello.”

“Getting off work? Good timing. I was meaning to see you.”

“Me? You came to see me?”

“Not exactly. I came to check on a leak in the bathroom of Room 302 upstairs. But, um, was it around two weeks ago? You were singing every night, right?”

“...”

“The tenant next door mentioned it. This building doesn’t have great soundproofing, so even a little noise carries everywhere. They say it’s been quiet lately, but please be careful from now on too.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you.”

The landlady left the entrance with a smile. I let out a quiet sigh and climbed the stairs.

When I entered my room and turned on the light, the dynamic microphone and headphones sitting alone on the desk were the first things I saw.

‘You were singing every night, right?’

The landlady’s words lingered in my ears. Those few nights when I had recorded guide vocals to send Muri. I had tried to keep my voice as low as possible, but the thin walls of that old multi-unit studio building had not been enough.

I set down my bag, sat on the edge of the bed, and gathered my thoughts.

There would be more times when I needed to sing guide vocals. I had to make Black Rabbit’s next song right away, and if Muri contacted me, I might need to work on more songs for them too. I couldn’t whisper-sing while worrying about the neighbors every time.

And singing was not the only problem. Even if I bought monitor speakers, I couldn’t use them in this room. An amp was out of the question. Hadn’t I told the owner of the music shop myself that if I put a condenser microphone in a studio apartment without soundproofing, it would pick up even the neighbor’s sneezes?

So this had been my process until now. I made demos in my room with headphones on, then rented a rehearsal room by the hour to check the sound with the kids. I was doing every song twice. It couldn’t be helped when I had no money, but things were different now.

The answer to Assistant Manager Kim’s question from earlier finally became clear.

‘The room comes before the equipment.’

I took out my phone and opened a real estate app.

The next day at lunch, I sat at my desk and looked through my phone. Commercial rental listings filled the screen.

The requirements were set. It needed to be underground, somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about the people around me. I couldn’t afford soundproofing construction, so it needed to already be soundproofed. It had to be large enough to keep a drum set there permanently and accessible day and night. It also had to be conveniently located for getting there from the kids’ school and my office.

And above all, it had to be cheap.

Every time I added another condition, more listings disappeared from the screen.

‘The rent alone is ridiculous in places with good locations.’

I let out a short sigh as I scrolled. Not every basement was cheap.

“What’s this? Are you opening a rehearsal room?”

I turned at the sudden voice. Assistant Manager Kim was walking past with a coffee and peeking over my shoulder at the screen.

“I’m thinking of renting one.”

“The whole rehearsal room? Ah, right. You have money, Manager. From selling songs.”

“What money? There’s hardly anything left after paying off my debts.”

“...Then you really are staying at the company. You’ll have rent to pay every month.”

“Looks that way.”

“But Manager, can I come hang out there too?”

“I haven’t even found one yet.”

“When you do.”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Assistant Manager Kim chuckled and returned to their desk.

I widened the search area and went through the listings again. Then, while scrolling, my finger suddenly stopped on one.

The former site of a closed rehearsal room. The soundproofing and some equipment would be included in the transfer. After checking the location, I found it was within walking distance of the kids’ school. It was far from the station, though.

After carefully checking the conditions and location several times, I called the listed number and arranged a visit for the weekend.

On Saturday afternoon, I got off the bus and entered an alley. The front gate of the high school the kids attended was visible on a hill in the distance. This was close enough for them to walk over after school. The walk from the station was a little long, but that was something I could put up with.

When I reached the commercial building, the realtor was waiting for me. It was an old three-story building. The stairs down to the basement were narrow and dark, but the place didn’t seem poorly maintained.

The moment the metal door opened, the stale smell of a basement hit me.

“I’ll air it out. It’s been empty for a few months.”

The realtor flipped a switch, and the fluorescent lights flickered on. The space was around 350 square feet. Soundproofing material covered the walls and ceiling without a gap. A drum set stood in one corner, while a guitar amp and bass amp sat against the wall. They had been left behind by the previous tenants.

A set list, scrawled in marker, remained faintly on one wall. There were six songs, some I knew and some I didn’t. The final line had something written there instead of a song title.

<Everyone, you worked hard.>

I didn’t know what band it had been, but I could roughly picture the time they had spent in this room.

“It used to be a rehearsal room. The previous tenant had some trouble and put it up for rent in a hurry, so they left all the soundproofing and equipment behind.”

Instead of answering, I checked the amp first. I turned it on and raised the volume.

Bzzzz.

There was a faint electrical noise, but it was still usable. I plugged in a cable and tapped the end of the plug with my fingertips.

Pop, pop.

The sound came through properly. That meant the input jack still worked.

Next, I sat on the drum stool, pressed the pedal, and shook each stand. They needed some work, but they were not unusable.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to play the drums for a moment. Could you go out into the hallway and check how much sound leaks out?”

“Ah, sure.”

The realtor nodded and stepped outside through the metal door. Once I confirmed that it had closed, I gripped the sticks. I hit the snare, worked the kick, and drove hard through the toms and cymbals. After throwing in a short fill and setting the sticks down, the door opened again.

“What do you think? Could you hear it?”

“If you press your ear against the door, you can feel it vibrating a little. But from farther away, I could barely tell.”

“What about upstairs?”

“The floor above is used as storage, so it’s empty. No one will complain even if you use it at night.”

That was a relief. There would be no reason to rent a basement if it wasn’t properly soundproofed.

Next, I checked the locations and number of outlets, then opened the breaker box to check its capacity. Even with amps, a laptop, and speakers connected, it didn’t look like the breaker would trip.

I inspected the ceiling for leak stains, held the back of my hand near the gaps around the door to check for drafts, and tested the ventilation switch. Everything was old, but the basics were there.

“You’re very thorough. Are you in a band?”

“...Yes. I’m in a band.”

It felt strangely unfamiliar saying it out loud. It had been a very long time since I had told someone that I was in a band.

I looked around the space again. There was enough room in the corner opposite the drum set for a desk. Put the laptop there, set up the audio interface and monitor speakers, and it would become a proper workspace.

After finishing the inspection, I asked the realtor.

“What are the terms?”

“The deposit is ten million won, and the monthly rent is eight hundred thousand won. The owner also wants another 1.5 million won for the facilities and equipment. Considering the soundproofing and the drum set, it’s cheap. It stayed vacant for a while because it’s so far from the station.”

For a place this size, including all that equipment, the terms were not bad.

No, they were excellent.

“I’ll sign.”

We moved to the real estate office, where I received the contract. I read it twice from beginning to end again. The lease period, deposit return conditions, and restoration requirements. There were no troubling clauses.

I also checked the transfer inventory line by line. One drum set, one guitar amp, one bass amp, several music stands, and microphone stands. Buying those separately would have easily cost several million won, but they were bundled together for 1.5 million. I had checked their condition myself, so this was not a bad deal.

Before signing, I ran through my bank balance in my head. After paying the ten-million-won deposit and the 1.5-million-won transfer fee, I would have around thirteen million won left. That was more than enough to get the equipment I needed.

But it also meant that eight hundred thousand won in rent would leave my account every single month. A fixed expense that went out even if I did nothing but breathe.

‘I’ll have to keep working at the company for now.’

Confirming that obvious conclusion once more, I signed my name. After I transferred the deposit and transfer fee on the spot, the realtor handed me an envelope of documents and the key to the basement rehearsal room.

“I hope you use it well.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of going straight home, I headed back to the commercial building. Once you got the key, you had to try it yourself before you could be satisfied.

I went down the stairs and inserted the key into the metal door.

Clunk.

The sound of the lock releasing echoed louder than I had expected. I turned on the lights and stood in the middle of the empty room.

The drum set could stay where it was. I planned to move the amps away from the wall and place them facing Bae Somi and Cha Sion. By the bend next to the entrance, I would put a desk, a laptop, and monitor speakers. On weeknights when the kids were not here, this would be my workspace.

In my previous life, I had spent the price of a foreign car on building an underground soundproof studio alone. By those standards, this setup was pathetic enough to cry over.

Yet somehow, it didn’t feel pathetic.

I sat on the drum stool and looked around the room.

A room where I could make noise without worrying about others.

A room I wouldn’t have to clear out when my time was up.

A room I could open whenever I wanted with the key in my pocket.

‘That’ll do. This is enough.’

I turned off the lights, locked the door firmly, and climbed the stairs. As I went up toward the ground floor, I took out my phone and opened the group chat.

< Rehearsal next Saturday. I’ll send the location separately.

The unread count had barely disappeared before replies flooded in.

Yun Taerin> Finally!!!

Yun Taerin> Uncle! Why did it take you so long!

Bae Somi> I’ve been practicing that song the whole time...!

Cha Sion> Yes.

I copied the commercial building’s address from the map app and pasted it into the group chat.

Yun Taerin> ??

Yun Taerin> I’ve never seen this place before. There’s a rehearsal room there?

Yun Taerin> It’s near our school. Didn’t you book the wrong place?

Bae Somi> I think I know where this is. It’s on the way to my academy.

Yun Taerin> Hey, there was a rehearsal room there?