Chapter 47
Playing the electric guitar with a pick and the classical guitar with fingers is a clear difference. The rough sound of the electric guitar, amplified by sound equipment and an amp, is hard for the classical guitar to match. However, with some variation in playing technique, you can still create a similar feeling. I wasnāt someone who had never picked up a classical guitar before.
After a few strings, I began playing part of a pop-punk song, a lively and strong melody. It reminded me of the familiar band music I used to listen to in college.
Soon, all eyes in the bar were on me. Even Sabrina, who had been surprised at first, recognized the song and smiled.
Without realizing it, I became absorbed in the music, my fingers moving freely.
At that moment, the eccentric musician, who had been silently watching, slowly picked up his violin. I looked up, and he seemed to be preparing to play.
Seeing that, I smiled to myself.
He met my gaze and casually said, āGo ahead, keep playing.ā
I wondered if he was really going to try to play along with my song. Even though it was a song he had never heard before, he started playing along after just a few violin strings. He quickly figured out the major scale of the repeating melody and began improvising.
His ability to analyze and catch onto the song so quickly was amazing. Genius was truly different.
I grinned and picked up the pace on the guitar. The violin followed right behind.
Although I made a few mistakes since I hadnāt played in a while, neither of us cared about that. Before long, the bar was filled with the music from the guitar and violin.
The rhythm matched the beats, and everyone in the bar began tapping their feet.
Even Sabrina was joining in, tapping along with the others.
The rush of adrenaline from performing in front of people as part of a band came back, and I felt exhilarated.
While playing, I made eye contact with the musician. He and I both had smiles on our faces now.
The thrill of creating music with an unknown person and just one instrumentāonly the people involved in the performance would understand that feeling.
In the end, I was just playing a song I knew well, while he was improvising along with me. Thatās why the music felt so raw and alive.
After hearing the cheers and applause from the people, I realized the performance had ended.
My fingers were sore from playing after so long, and I was out of breath, but the smile on my face didnāt fade. It had been such a long time since I felt this way.
***
“So, where did you learn to play guitar?”
The man, who had been indifferent earlier, now looked at me with bright eyes. After the performance, he eagerly introduced himself.
His name was Samuel Bengerson. He had once been a promising musician from the fallen Bengerson family, who used to compose his own pieces. Now, he was a strange guy who played music for coins and spent his time drinking.
“Did you compose that song you just played?” He leaned forward, clearly intrigued.
I smiled at him and handed him my business card, which had the name of my salon, “Clina Salon” on it.
“If you’re curious, come to Clina Salon,” I said, getting up without hesitation.
“Iāll let you play more songs like that one,” I added with a wink before turning away.
A key trick in my planning was to provoke curiosity in your target. After hearing the sample performance, he would be curious enough to visit.
As I walked out of the bar, the crowd applauded and cheered. They must have thought it was surprising to see a noblewoman like me playing such a lively and unfamiliar type of music on the guitar.
With cheers echoing around me, I walked out, looking up at the sky, feeling refreshed.
āI canāt believe Iām playing guitar here, in this fantasy world!ā
Iād never imagined Iād play a guitar in this world. And if thereās a guitar, there must be drums too, right? The drums are the heart of a band!
As I dreamed of making money with a band in this fantasy world, Sabrina, who had followed me out, poked me in the side.
“Claire, I didnāt expect that. You know how to play guitar?”
“Oh… haha, just a little,” I replied awkwardly, scratching my head.
Sabrina squinted her eyes.
“Just a little? That was more than just a little.”
“I was in the band club for a short time in college. After that, I didnāt really play anymore.”
Sabrina nodded, as if she understood.
“I didnāt expect to find a guitar in a place like this,” I said, reminiscing.
Sabrina shrugged and replied, “People are the same everywhere.”
Hearing that, I looked at Sabrina with bright eyes.
“Then, do you think there are drums here?”
Sabrina, who had seemed uncomfortable under my gaze, hesitated before answering.
“Well… I’ve seen some.”
“Really?”
***
Sabrina led me to a junk shop selling old odds and ends.
“I found this junk shop while patrolling with Hectorās gang. There were some pretty useful things here,” she explained.
I was confused. Why did she bring me to a junk shop when she said she would show me drums?
Just then, an elderly man, likely the owner, peered out from among the piles of junk.
“Eh?”
Sabrina casually asked, “Grandpa, do you have any drums here?”
The old man scratched his head and yawned before answering.
“What would noble ladies want with drums? Wait a moment.”
Wait, was there really a drum?
I looked at Sabrina with hopeful eyes, and she proudly raised her chin, as if saying, “See, I told you so.”
I stood there, full of anticipation, but the old man came back with a large, torn-up drum that looked like a wash basin.
I stared blankly at the junk, and Sabrina confidently declared, “Here, a drum!”
I furrowed my brow. “What is this? Itās just a torn-up drum.”
“This is what we call a drum here. And drums are a type of drum, right?” she replied.
“No, I know that, but…” I sighed, holding my forehead in frustration. Sabrina glanced at me, then turned to the old man again.
“Grandpa, do you have any other drums besides this one?”
“What do you need drums for?” the old man grumbled but went back into the piles of junk to bring out more drums.
The drums were all different in size and thickness.
Well, drums are usually a combination of different drums with varying sounds and thicknesses.
As I pondered this, Sabrina added, “Here, the military bands usually carry them on their shoulders. If you gather enough of these and beat them, itās practically a drum, right? Grandpa, do you have any cymbals?”
The old man muttered as he disappeared to find cymbals.
If you arrange the drums and cymbals, it would resemble a drum set, I guess.
It sounded like a decent idea, but… where could I find someone to play it?
Anyone could beat the drums like a military band, but the drummer I had in mind for a band wasnāt that kind.
“The problem is, even if we make them, we wonāt have anyone to play them,” I mumbled.
Sabrina responded nonchalantly, as if it wasnāt a big deal. “Just teach the orchestra members.”
“Whoās going to teach them?”
That was the problemāwho was going to teach the orchestra members?
Sabrina, staring at me with a blank expression, calmly replied, “If nobody else, I could teach them.”
Wait, what?
“Sabrina, you know how to play drums?”
“Well… I can imitate a bit,” she shrugged.
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Did you learn by watching YouTube or something?”
Sabrina shrugged again. “Well… my momās son was a pretty famous drummer.”
Her momās son…
“Do you mean your brother from your past life?”
Wowā¦
