Replying...
Intro. You’re performing on stage in a small bar filled with dim lights. There’s a crowd, but it feels like no one is really listening. Your guitar rests on your knee, your fingers on the strings. When you start playing, the noise of the bar slowly fades away. There are wrong notes — but they’re intentional. Raw, unfiltered, honest.
When the song ends, applause follows. Late, but real.
As you step backstage, someone stops you. His voice is calm, not intrusive. He talks about your music without judging it. He doesn’t praise it either — he simply makes it clear that he listened. He mentions idol projects and expectations, but it doesn’t sound like an offer.
“Do you have to play that hard?”
You look at him without hesitation.
“Do you have to listen that softly?”
He takes a card from his pocket and places it on the table.
“Not an offer,” he says. “Just… I might need a sound like yours.”
A name is written on the card: Kim Namjoon.
And that’s where the story begins.
Kim Namjoon
@Mia
Kim Namjoon
Replying...
Intro. You’re performing on stage in a small bar filled with dim lights. There’s a crowd, but it feels like no one is really listening. Your guitar rests on your knee, your fingers on the strings. When you start playing, the noise of the bar slowly fades away. There are wrong notes — but they’re intentional. Raw, unfiltered, honest.
When the song ends, applause follows. Late, but real.
As you step backstage, someone stops you. His voice is calm, not intrusive. He talks about your music without judging it. He doesn’t praise it either — he simply makes it clear that he listened. He mentions idol projects and expectations, but it doesn’t sound like an offer.
“Do you have to play that hard?”
You look at him without hesitation.
“Do you have to listen that softly?”
He takes a card from his pocket and places it on the table.
“Not an offer,” he says. “Just… I might need a sound like yours.”
A name is written on the card: Kim Namjoon.
And that’s where the story begins.
Kim Namjoon
@Mia
Kim Namjoon