The competition part of the festival was over, but the party was just starting.
The school board had clearly blown their entire annual budget on the guest lineup. The amphitheater turned into a massive outdoor club.
BTS stormed the stage first. When "Fire" started playing, I lost all sense of decorum.
"Run!Run!Run!" I screamed, grabbing Jun-seo and Leo by the necks and jumping up and down.
"San! My glasses!" Leo shrieked, trying to protect his spectacles while bouncing involuntarily.
Even Jun-seo, usually the stoic sufferer, was swept up in the energy, headbanging to the beat. We were a mess of sweat, adrenaline, and uncoordinated limbs.
Then came Mamamoo, their vocals soaring into the night sky, followed by the retro-pop queens, the Wonder Girls.
And then... she walked out.
The lights turned a sultry purple. A barefoot figure in a simple bodysuit stepped onto the stage.
Sunmi.
The opening notes of "24 Hours" began.
I stopped jumping. I stopped breathing. I think my heart stopped beating.
She moved with that fluid, hypnotic grace—the tick-tock choreography. It was lethal.
"She is..." I whispered, clutching my chest. "She is the perfect woman. I need to marry her. Or be her bodyguard. Or her microphone stand."
"Snap out of it," Jun-seo nudged me hard in the ribs. He looked nervous again, checking his watch. "I... I have to go."
"Go where?" I asked, eyes still glued to Sunmi doing the floorwork. "To heaven? Because I'm already there."
"Equipment check," Jun-seo muttered, pulling his cap low. "For the... uh... audio logs."
He disappeared into the crowd.
Ten minutes later, the lights dimmed.
Kang Min-ah, who had changed into a sparkly MC dress, bounded onto the stage.
"Are you having fun?!" she shouted.
"YES!" the crowd roared.
"We have a special treat for the indie lovers!" Min-ah announced, her voice filled with secret excitement. "They are the ghosts of the underground. The legends of the Hongdae circuit. Please welcome... YOUTHFUL MEMOIRS (Cheongchun Girok)!"
A smooth, lo-fi beat started playing.
A band walked out, all wearing masquerade masks. The frontman—a guitarist with a familiar posture—stepped up to the mic.
I chuckled aloud. "Heh."
Next to me, Ha-neul (still holding my garment bags like a exhausted sherpa) and Leo looked at me.
"What's so funny?" Ha-neul grumbled.
"Nothing," I smirked. "Nature calls. Hold my spot."
I slipped away into the darkness before they could ask more.
I sprinted to the makeshift dressing rooms behind the props department. I found the bag I had stashed earlier—a "contingency plan" I had prepared just in case.
I stripped off my H-Wnot blazer.
I pulled on a plain white dress shirt and black trousers—formal, anonymous.
Then, the piece de resistance. I found a discarded Hanyeong Arts High School blazer hanging on a rack (probably forgotten by some student). There was a name tag saying 'Sam Pildu'.
I pulled it on. It was a bit tight across the shoulders, but the crimson color was perfect.
I jammed a long, black wig onto my head, tying it back into a messy bun.
Finally, the black face mask and the low baseball cap of Kirin.
I looked in the cracked mirror.
San 2.0 was gone. Standing there was the urban legend. The "Otaku from the Club."
The Mysterious Fan. But this time, dressed as the enemy.
I ran toward the side stage.
I pushed myself through tight guards.
"Hey! Who are you..."
"Where are you going?!"
Kang Min-ah was standing by the monitor, bobbing her head to Youthful Memoirs' closing track.
I tapped her shoulder.
She spun around, annoyed. "Authorized personnel onl—"
She stopped.
She stared at the hair.
The cap. The mask.
Her eyes went wide.
"You!" she gasped, pointing a manicured finger. "The Hongdae guy! The viral video!"
She tried to reach out and lift the brim of my cap.
"Who are you?!" she demanded. "Are you really a Hanyeong student? Why are you wearing their blazer?"
I stepped back, catching her wrist gently. I lowered my voice, making it rough.
"Can I..." I pointed to the stage.
Min-ah's eyes lit up. The Gossip Queen smelled a scoop. A viral moment.
"Wait one second," she whispered, vibrating with excitement. "They're finishing the bridge."
On stage, Youthful Memoirs hit the final chord of their song. The applause was polite, appreciative.
Min-ah ran out onto the stage, microphone in hand.
"Give it up for Youthful Memoirs!" she shouted. "But wait! Don't go anywhere! We have a surprise!"
The crowd murmured.
"You all saw the video," Min-ah hyped them up. "The mysterious fan who crashed their stage in Hongdae! The video that has over 100,000 views! We tracked him down!"
She turned to the masked frontman of the band.
"Jay," she addressed him (Jun-seo's pseudonym). "Do you remember that fan?"
Jun-seo—"Jay"—blinked behind his mask. He looked confused. This wasn't in the script.
"I... uh... yes?" Jun-seo stammered into the voice-altering mic. "The... tall guy?"
"He's here!" Min-ah pointed to the wings. "Come on out!"
I took a deep breath.
I walked out of the shadows.
The moment the light hit my red Hanyeong blazer, the crowd gasped.
"He's Hanyeong?!"
"Wait, look at the hair!"
"It's the Hongdae Guy!"
I walked to the center of the stage. I stood next to a bewildered Jun-seo.
I looked at him. Even behind his mask, I could feel him rolling his eyes. You again, his posture said.
I grabbed the spare microphone.
"One song," I said, my voice muffled by the mask. "For old times' sake."
Jun-seo hesitated. Then, a small smile appeared beneath his mask. He nodded.
He signaled the band.
G Major.
The opening riff of their most upbeat song kicked in.
I raised the mic. The Mysterious Fan was back.
"ARE YOU READY HANYEONG?! KIRIN?! ONE MORE TIME! BANG BANG BANG!"