Devil’s Music

On the stage lit by lights, a woman kneeling in front of a small tombstone had suddenly grown into her mid-twenties. She placed a bouquet of chrysanthemums on the tombstone and looked down at it with sad eyes as she began to speak.

"People are born bearing the tragedy that they must become adults,

Leaving the nest and sanctuary to venture into the battlefield of life,

The fight to lose everything loved and to create anew the things to be loved

Seems to be an unavoidable tragedy.

Why is it that the depth of love is only realized through the pain of separation?

Love becomes a path for oneself,

Love becomes a cliff for oneself,

Love is all the names in this world,

Chris! My love, are you watching me?

I have become regret,

For loving and expecting more,

For unnecessarily throwing tantrums at you over my many disappointments,

Though you might have thought I was just bad-tempered,

There was no reason for you to understand such tantrums of mine,

Yet, to you, who just smiled and understood me, I can't even offer a single apology now,

That makes me filled with regret."

The woman sang quietly, not exploding with emotion but as if an aged woman was reciting, and this resonated more deeply with the audience than an explosion of emotion would have. Just as tears were wiped away or faces appeared angered among the audience, struggling to contain their rising emotions, Geon reappeared in white clothes. Some of the audience, mistaking him for Chris returned to life, began to cheer, but upon seeing the clothes Geon wore, their cheers turned to sighs of disappointment. Geon approached the despairing woman and puffed his cheeks, blowing air over her head. Whether it was an audio effect or not, a loud gust of wind blew, causing the woman's bowed head to flutter in the breeze. As she lifted her head in response to the sudden wind, she looked around bewildered. Having not exploded in emotion until now, the woman's eyes suddenly overflowed with tears like a waterfall. She briskly rose to her feet, gathered her hands to her chest, and sang.

"Chris, is it you?

If only I could be with you for a moment,

I could give you my dreams.

To rejoice in being together for even a moment,

Not to resent for not liking more,

To be satisfied with loving this much,

Not to blame for only yearning,

To be thankful for being able to love even in a pathetic manner,

Not to tire from a love that only gives,

To hurt for not being able to give more,

I am confident I can keep a pure love for a long time.

Chris, is it you?

Have you returned to me with this wind?"

As the woman stretched out her hands to the surrounding wind, looking deranged, a tear shed unknowingly by Norman was wiped away as he sighed and smirked at Carlos sitting beside him, who had been crying enough to soak his handkerchief.

Geon, who had been blowing the wind from behind the woman, now approached her from behind and embraced her warmly. The woman, exhausted from crying and losing focus, dropped her arms weakly, and Geon gently wrapped his arms around her neck, whispering not a song but a line of dialogue.

"Life goes on, and there is still plenty of time to dream. The moment regret replaces dreams, a person starts to age. But don't hold back your tears, cry when you want to. Let it wash over you and acknowledge it."

The audience held their breath, focusing on the words as if they were music itself. Geon then covered the woman's eyes, and the beautiful man standing behind her became more attractive as he obscured her vision. Geon, licking his bright red lips with a tongue slightly, whispered in the woman's ear.

"Music is your own experience, your wisdom. The emotions you feel in life will all be captured in your music. Do you only wish to be happy? The emotions in your music should encompass all the emotions of the world, not just happiness. Don't become a shameless liar just to make good songs. Sing your emotions truthfully and plainly. It will strike the ears of the public as the sound of truth."

Geon's expression might have seemed malicious, but instead, it looked dangerously sexy, leaving the female audience agape. Music experts were shocked not by Geon's appearance but by the sound of his voice. Norman, in particular, was halfway out of his seat, gaping.

"This... This voice! It's not human, it's as if a god is whispering! A voice containing divine ideas beyond human judgment of right and wrong!"

Norman's exclamation spread among the audience, and as Geon's voice resonated, causing ripples in their hearts, Carlos gently pushed Norman down, whispering for calm.

"Norman, the performance is ongoing. Calm your excitement."

As Norman composed

himself, but barely sitting at the edge of the sofa, Geon, still covering the woman's eyes, began to sing a serene song. Though it was not dialogue, Geon's voice cut through the audience like a sharp knife.

"Flowing water can be written about,

But the sound of flowing water cannot be captured in words,

Burning fire can be written about,

But the sound of burning cannot be written,

Swords and shields can be written about,

But the sound of them clashing cannot be captured,

Close your eyes to all wars of the world,

Quietly enter into the country of music, the land of faith,

There, all despair and pain will be forgotten in the sound waves of the music sea,

Only music can cleanse the soul from the dust of everyday life."

As if brainwashing or forcefully pushing his story into the woman's head, Geon's voice made the woman wipe away her tears. Slowly calming down, the woman gradually lifted her hands from her eyes as Geon stepped back into the shadows. The stage lights dimmed, and once again, the voice from behind the curtain filled the air.

"I immersed myself in music like a madwoman, to forget Chris, as the music whispered to me. It was an impossible feat for a black woman to stand on the opera stage back then. Yet, I did not waste a single day, a single hour. Truthfully, it was more to forget Chris than to fulfill my dream, and at the same time, to remember him forever."

As the silhouette of the woman hidden behind the curtain stood up, Leontine Price walked out, eliciting gasps from the audience. Over 90 years old, she wore a purple dress, her demeanor not that of a frail musician but a still majestic black swan. As Leontine Price smiled and walked to the front of the stage, her parents, her deceased brother, and students from Juilliard all came out to stand behind her.

As Leontine Price turned to face the audience, locking eyes with them one by one, she began to sing, causing many in the audience to grip their hands nervously. Her voice, rich yet capable of high notes, was not something one could comfortably sit and listen to.

"My hometown is along the Mississippi River,

Passing small hills and even smaller fields,

Nestled in a tranquil path.

Every spring, we'd warmly welcome the familiar poverty that bloomed.

It was that kind of home."

Leontine Price reflected on her impoverished childhood, but her expression was not sad. With a gentle smile, she seemed like an old woman reminiscing about old memories.

"I wanted to tell you

Before you left, about the life I lived

I wanted to hold your hand and talk about myself

If you come looking for me in the distant future

I'll say I forgot

If you reproach me for forgetting you

I'll say I grew tired of waiting and forgot

If you still feel hurt

I'll say I couldn't believe it and forgot

Though I haven't forgotten today or yesterday

If you come looking for me in the distant future, I'll say I forgot"

As Leontine Price sang alone, backed by student actors, Geon appeared in white clothes. Turning with a smile, Leontine Price extended her hand to Geon, who grinned back and joined her side. As they faced the audience together, Carlos murmured.

"Are they finally accepting the music and singing together? What harmony will this world-class diva and K show us?"

While Leontine Price remained relaxed and smiling, Geon looked serious and slightly tense. As their mouths opened to sing, Norman and Carlos stood up abruptly, joined by more than half the audience, disbelieving their ears.

"A male voice reaching higher than a female soprano? Impossible!"

"Madness! A man achieving this vocal range? His throat would burst!"

As Geon's voice climaxed, surpassing the high notes sung by Leontine Price, the audience felt a profound impact.

"Singing about life more difficult than death

On a sunny winter day, on that mountain path, we met

The silver harmony supported me

After losing love, I sang

Farewell, my short nights

My remaining loves wandering outside the window

The candles swaying in the wind, knowing nothing

The tears replacing my remaining hesitations

Desires no longer mine

Blindly, I gather my remaining strength to lock the door

Ensuring the last love in my heart cannot escape"

As the audience, rising to focus on the voices of Geon and Leontine Price, felt their legs give out and collapsed back onto the sofas, the performance was transmitted worldwide, shocking many who couldn't attend.

Students and faculty from top music conservatories worldwide were speechless, and countless journalists watching the performance through their PCs were busy at work.

Exhausted from the shock, Norman Lebrecht deeply sank into the sofa, murmuring to himself.

"This is madness... Worse than the Bronx Zoo, this is."

>

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