Devil’s Music

Chapter 220: The Story You Don't Know

It was just after lunchtime.

Geon and Byungjoon sat side by side on the grass, warmly observing Gregory and Kiska playing with the dogs in the garden. It had been a while since Gregory had been outside, and Kiska, who hadn't shown much longing for her father recently, was beaming with joy at the sight of him. As Byungjoon searched something on his phone, he turned to Geon with a smirk.

"Geon, you've climbed up to number 4 on Billboard. Look at you, finally getting recognized as a real musician."

Geon lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky with little interest.

"The ranking doesn't matter. As long as Kiska is happy, that's all that matters."

"Every chance she gets, she's asking me to play your music. My phone's practically hers now."

"Ha, maybe it's time to buy her an mp3 player."

Looking around at Red Castle, Byungjoon commented, "We've been living here for quite some time now. It's starting to feel familiar, even the gang members armed with machine guns don't seem so scary anymore. You feel the same?"

Geon, watching the clouds drift by in the early winter sky, nodded slightly.

"Yesterday, Miroslav was showing me how to disassemble an MP5A5. I've never seen such a gun in the military, so it was quite interesting. I ended up practicing for an hour without even realizing it. Ha."

"Don't get too caught up in that stuff. It's a dangerous road to go down, son."

"Don't worry. Ha."

Speaking of Miroslav, Byungjoon continued, "That guy, he's got a tattoo on his head, right? A skull in the middle, with a snake wrapping around it among a bed of roses. A pretty grim image."

"Yeah, I was pretty scared when I first saw it. Ha."

"Normally, mafia tattoos indicate affiliation or rank, but living here, I've noticed no one else has a tattoo quite like his. Makes you wonder what it means."

Geon turned to his side to look at Miroslav directing some gang members in the distance.

"I always thought mafia tattoos were meant to intimidate others. So, there's a deeper meaning to them, huh?"

"I got so curious, I followed him once to get a closer look. And it's weird, you know? The snake seems to be protecting the rose garden, as if it turns intruders into skulls. That's what I thought it meant."

Geon whistled softly.

"Sounds plausible."

As Byungjoon crossed his arms, looking at Miroslav, he continued, "But here's the funny thing. When I looked closely, the snake wrapped around the skull was crying. Have you ever seen a snake cry? Do snakes even cry?"

"Hmm...I've never heard of a crying snake. I think reptiles can't shed tears, from what I've heard."

"Right? But there it was, a snake shedding tears. It made me even more curious. It's like, what if there's a hidden past to the mafia that we don't know about?"

Geon sat up to face Byungjoon.

"Hmm.. It is quite unique. But everyone has a past they might not want to dig up, so don't pry too much, brother."

Scratching his cheek with his index finger, Byungjoon said, "Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't dare ask directly. A crying snake, though, that's just weird."

Geon and Byungjoon's attention returned to Miroslav, who was inspecting the perimeter.

---

9 years ago, Novosibirsk, Russia.

Just another morning, a young bus driver was running his route to match the morning commute. A robust young man with short hair, he appeared incredibly simple and earnest. Despite being quite poor, the young man, married at nineteen, was committed to not letting his wife and son go hungry, working diligently as a bus driver and taking on construction work early in the morning.

Thankfully, he had found work at a time when Russia's economy, heavily reliant on natural gas and oil, was suffering due to plummeting oil prices, causing the ruble to lose its value. Despite the tough times, the young man never lost hope and eventually found a job with a bus company that traveled between Novosibirsk and Novosibirskaya Oblast. Although the pay was barely enough to live on, his inherent good nature and cheerfulness always made a positive impression on his passengers.

One day, after driving past an empty bus stop, he slowly applied the brakes. The packed bus of passengers looked at him curiously as he stood up and announced, "Please, bear with me for a moment."

He opened the front door and helped an elderly lady who had been waving at the bus from a

distance onto the vehicle.

"There's no seat available, ma'am. Please hold on to the bus handle."

"Thank you, young man. How kind of you."

"Ha, it's nothing. Let's get going."

As the bus ascended an unpaved mountain road, it jolted violently. Despite his cautious driving, the rough terrain littered with large rocks made it impossible to avoid all bumps. Every time the bus shook severely, the young man would shout, "I'm sorry! Please hold on tight!"

The passengers, used to the route, appreciated his constant apologies. As they reached smoother roads, the young man exclaimed, "We're back on the city roads now. I apologize for the rough ride, everyone!"

A middle-aged man in a suit called out playfully, "No need to apologize every time! We all know the condition of these roads!"

The passengers nodded and added, "Exactly! Is it the driver's fault that the roads aren't paved?"

"You're the only driver who greets us with a smile every day, and this bus feels the safest thanks to you! Ha!"

Seeing the passengers chatting and laughing in the rearview mirror, a simple smile spread across the young driver's face.

"Ha! Thank you! I'll make sure you all arrive safely at your destinations."

Checking his watch, the driver noticed they were running 8 minutes late.

'I'm delaying everyone. They might be late for work.'

He gently accelerated. Approaching the next stop, a sense of panic set in.

"What? Oh no, the brakes!"

A stone from the unpaved road had damaged the bus's underside, rendering the brakes ineffective. As they sped past the stop, passengers yelled in confusion.

"What's going on? Aren't you going to let us off?"

"Sir, we're already late! Stop the bus!"

"Come on, driver, focus! Please, stop."

With a face full of panic, the young man shouted back, "Hold on tight, everyone! The brakes have failed!"

"What, what!! Damn it! This old bus, I knew something like this would happen!"

"Hold on tight! Driver, at this speed, we're all going to die! Just keep going straight! There's a hill up ahead, and if we go uphill, we might naturally come to a stop!"

As the young driver reassured his passengers, a middle-aged gentleman quickly came to his side, pointing ahead in horror.

"Look, look ahead!"

The young driver had already fixed his gaze on a woman and her five-year-old son crossing the road ahead. The moment he saw them, his expression grew complicated, and the middle-aged man yelled, "We'll all die if you turn the wheel at this speed!"

In an instant, the young man contemplated millions of scenarios. Turning the wheel would endanger all the passengers, but going straight would mean certain death for the mother and child. As the bus neared the two, the middle-aged man shut his eyes tight, gripping the handle.

Crash!

The bus hit the mother and child, passing over them. The passengers felt the horrifying sensation of the bodies under the bus. Imagining the gruesome scene, women burst into tears, and men started cursing.

"This evil bastard! The child looked no more than five!"

"Heartless monster!"

"How could this happen?"

Although everyone knew the young driver had hit the mother and child to save them all, they needed to blame someone to ease their own guilt.

When the bus finally stopped on an uphill, people banged on the back door, yelling, "Let us out, you monster!"

"You call yourself a bus driver? I'm calling the company to complain!"

"You're a murderer! You killed that child and his mother, you devil!"

As the young man trembled, opening the back door, the first to exit picked up stones and threw them at him. What started with one person soon became a barrage of stones, and the young driver, kneeling and dazed in front of the bus, became bloodied.

As blood splattered from the young man's head, the attackers snapped out of their rage, backing away. Blood streamed down the young driver's face, and even as the accusers fled, calling him a murderer, he remained on his knees, bleeding. Tears of blood streamed from his eyes as he glared in the direction where everyone had disappeared.

"Darling!!! Son!!! I'm sorry!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!"

That day, the young man had killed a mother and child to save many others.

In sacrificing his beloved wife and precious son to save the passengers, he was met with stones and branded a murderer. And so, he endured a hellish existence in a Russian prison, fueled by a desire for vengeance. Shaving his head, he tattooed a skull, symbolizing his son, surrounded by roses with thorns - the people he greeted with a smile but who were, in reality, harmful. The tattoo depicted him, weeping, as the snake that devoured his son.

9 years later, as he patrolled the gardens of Red Castle, the cold weather made the tattoo on his head seem to rub against his thoughts.

>

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