Devil’s Music

Outside the window of the black luxury sedan, the landscape of the Himalayas passed by, still majestic as if the recent earthquake was but a dream. Harold, enjoying the comfortable ride that the luxury vehicle offered, gazed out at the Himalayas. The Chief Secretary seated next to him adjusted his glasses and asked,

"Why did you do it?"

Harold responded without shifting his gaze from the window.

"What do you mean?"

"It was different from what you had mentioned earlier."

"Ha, that's right."

"At the meeting with the CIA and the Secretary of Defense, you were supposed to mention the North Korean issue in your conversation with Kay and naturally lead the discussion towards the necessity of attacking North Korea for the stability of Northeast Asia. Why didn't you mention anything about it?"

Harold opened the window and reached out his hand, feeling the crisp air of the Himalayas. Observing Harold enjoying the air, the Chief Secretary spoke again,

"Please, withdraw your hand and close the window. There's a risk of sniping, and the vehicle carrying the President must not be exposed."

"Who would think that I would be in the car with the window open among all these vehicles? And what kind of sniper would be out here in the wilderness? Don't be too sensitive."

"The position of the President always requires caution. Please answer my earlier question. You should have informed the Secretary of Defense and the CIA beforehand."

"Did you see Kay's eyes?"

"Yes, he was a very clear-eyed young man."

"Even after seeing those eyes, do you think of using him?"

"You are not an individual. You are the President of the United States, leading the world order. You should have the appropriate conviction."

"Yes, conviction... the President of the United States... Look here, Jayden. When I aimed to become the President of the United States, I had thoughts similar to yours. But having arrived at this position, I realized that the United States is not leading the world order but rather struggling to maintain its lead by monitoring the world."

"Mr. President, such remarks..."

"Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to say such things in public."

As Jayden quietly observed Harold, the latter, still looking outside, turned to Jayden and said,

"Isn't it nice to have at least one person in the world unmarred by time? Someone who can sing me a song full of hope when I am tired and weary. I never wanted to be a person who assigns utilitarian value to someone for the sake of national interest. I am a human being too."

"The North Korean issue is not something that can be decided by one person, Mr. President."

"Right, it is. Let's find another way to address the issue, stopping the use of Kay."

"Does this mean you're cancelling the plan to aggressively change the public's perception on the North Korean issue through public service advertisements?"

"Yes, let's look for another route."

"I'll pass on the message."

"Ah, and during my term, let me know in advance wherever Kay performs."

"Do you plan to attend? If so, I'll reserve VIP seats and adjust your schedule."

"Just adjust the schedule. I'll book the tickets myself. I want to put in that effort."

"Understood, Mr. President."

**

After Harold left, Geon was left alone, confused by the photo he had given.

"What... What is this? Was it not a dream? Did I actually meet Elvis Presley?"

As Geon sat down, enveloped in his own thoughts, Chae-eun approached him.

"Geon, how was it? What did you talk about?"

Geon, hiding the photo behind him with a panicked look, replied,

"Oh, sister. It was nothing. He just praised me for this task."

"Really? You could've shown off in front of the journalists. I thought you were sharing some big secret, given how people were making a fuss."

"Ah...haha... No, it wasn't that."

"Are you not hungry? We skipped lunch because this guy suddenly wanted to sing."

"Oh, is it already lunchtime?"

"Yes, it's been a while. Let's eat something. I'll make it."

"Thanks, sister."

As Chae-eun went to prepare the meal, Geon, left alone, looked at the photo again.

"Was it all real? John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix, Rachmaninoff, and Tchaikovsky... Did I really meet them? Went back to the past? Can this even be possible?"

Unaware of Geon's turmoil, Chae-eun called out to him after a while.

"Geon! Come on, let's eat before it gets cold!"

Geon crumpled the photo into his pocket and joined Chae-eun for lunch. After lunch, Chae-eun left for camp to help with the school's infirmary work, leaving Geon alone to

pull out the photo from his pocket again.

"Something is different. Marley I met in Jamaica was surely in a dream. He definitely told me so."

Geon quietly recalled Marley's words as he gazed at the tent's ceiling. Marley, appearing on the tent ceiling, spoke while exhaling marijuana smoke,

"You must dream a lot, friend. You don't seem at all surprised."

"Yes, Marley definitely told me it was a dream. But what about the others?"

Geon was deep in thought when he suddenly sat up and took out a notebook. As he wrote down the people he met in his dreams, his eyes widened. The notebook listed memories he had penned down:

1953, Tennessee, USA; 1957, Tampa. Elvis Presley

September 10, 1970, Seattle. A week before Jimi Hendrix's death

December 8, 1980, New York. Two days before John Lennon's death

December 1882, Saint Petersburg, Russia. Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff

"Can this be... I thought it was a dream, but all the dates are accurate in my memory.."

Geon shivered as he looked at the notebook, remembering what he had said upon arriving in Saint Petersburg, Russia,

"Is this another dream? Why is it so cold in a dream, ah..."

Geon stared at his trembling hands.

"Was it real? It really happened, didn't it? There's no way it could be cold in a dream..."

Geon lay down, clutching his head. His eyes were full of confusion as they flickered restlessly.

"Why? What sent me to the past? For what reason?"

Geon tossed and turned on the bed, clutching his head.

"Why! What's happening to me! Was everything I saw real? Was the child John Lennon was holding, the one who performed with me at the zoo, real?"

His head felt like it was going to explode. Unable to find answers to the utterly impossible situation, Geon lay on the bed, turning his head against the wall, trying to organize his thoughts. But the more time passed, the more his thoughts tangled.

The silence of the tent was broken only by the soft thumping of his head against the wall. Yeongseok's wristwatch lay there, its second hand ticking slower and slower, and Geon's body relaxed as he suddenly plunged into a deep slumber.

The chirping of the birds ceased, and even the wind blowing over the Himalayan plateau stopped. The floor of the large tent, where Geon's bed was placed, began to change color slowly, turning the entire world into a black-and-white screen.

A dark, ominous hole appeared in the tent ceiling, and a foot smeared with thick, black oil descended over the sleeping Geon. The man who appeared, incongruously dressed in a black suit to match his bare feet, had long, glossy black hair. He looked down at the sleeping Geon with a warm gaze.

As the man extended his hand, a gesture brought a distant folding chair flying towards him. Catching the chair in mid-air, the man quietly placed it beside Geon's bed and sat down, crossing his legs in a relaxed pose. He looked down at Geon and said,

"Child, open your eyes."

With a soft rustling sound, Geon's eyes slowly opened. He rubbed his eyes, unaware of when he had fallen asleep, and saw the man looking down at him. Although it was the first time he saw the man, he felt a strange, comforting familiarity.

"Who are you?"

The man gently stroked Geon's head, then played with his own unruly beard.

"Your face is badly hurt, child."

Geon fluttered his eyes at the man's warm touch and asked,

"Who are you that you feel so familiar? Do you know me?"

The man smiled slightly and replied,

"Yes, I have watched over you as long as your parents have, and even longer."

"What is your name?"

"I am one who lost his real name long ago. Since then, I have been called by many other names through the ages."

"What are those other names?"

"Not yet, child. You don't need to know yet."

Geon's eyes darted around as he examined the man. The handsome man with long hair down to his waist seemed very similar to him.

"Why do you resemble me? Or rather, why do I resemble you?"

The man smiled slightly and said,

"Because you are a part of me."

"Why am I a part of you?"

"That, too, is not for you to know yet."

"If you will not reveal anything, why appear before me?"

The man took the photo Geon was tightly holding.

"Because you have come to know something you should not have yet."

Geon looked at the photo in the man's hand with a puzzled expression and asked,

"Why are you taking the photo?"

Fl

ames, black and ominous, engulfed the photo in the man's hand. The photo turned to ash without burning his hand, and the man watched and said,

"Because it was beyond my calculations."

Geon, who might have been expected to be angry at the man for burning the photo without permission, felt no such emotion. As if his body was numb and his mind foggy, like a patient waking up in a recovery room, Geon managed to speak,

"What... what calculation are you talking about?"

The man stood up and said,

"I am sorry, but I cannot answer anything now, and this memory of our meeting will also fade. Someday, I will surely tell you, my child."

Geon struggled to speak as his consciousness faded,

"Your... your name, at least..."

Geon seemed to fall into a deep sleep. The man sighed softly and whispered,

"My name is Gamagin, an angel who lost his real name long ago and the lord of demons. Child, you will forget about the photo and meeting me. And when I regain my forgotten old name because of you, you will learn my name."

The man continued to stroke Geon's head for a long time. Looking down at Geon with the loving and gentle gaze of a parent watching a newborn, he eventually disappeared as if he had never been there. The wristwatch on the table ticked on, the color returned to the world, and Geon, now asleep and smiling softly, began to snore quietly.

>

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