Devil’s Music

Chapter 301: Second Fury

Late afternoon in front of Downtown New York General Hospital.

It was the time when outpatient services had ended, so the front of the hospital should have been relatively quiet, yet it was bustling with about a hundred robust mafia members dressed in black suits. Fortunately, they gathered a bit away from the hospital entrance, as if not to disturb the public, but their presence was still unsettling to the bystanders. It seemed to be due to Miroslav's strict control that none of the members were smoking or staring down the passersby; instead, they continuously checked their wristwatches as if waiting for someone.

Some of the doctors and nurses had come out of the hospital and were watching the group with a frightened expression when they saw a car rushing towards the hospital entrance without any intention of braking. A hospital staff member at the parking booth hurriedly raised the barrier, and the car screeched to a halt at the entrance, leaving skid marks on the ground. Gregory, dressed only in a shirt and vest without his coat, quickly got out of the car with a desperate look on his face. Miroslav, who had arrived earlier, hurried over to him.

“The larynx and trachea examinations are done, and he’s currently in a psychiatric consultation,” Miroslav informed.

Gregory, loosening his tightly tied tie with his hands, asked, “Is the consultation still going on? Do we have to wait?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Sigh, was Kiska talking when you were there?”

“No, I was outside.”

“So, it was only Kay who saw?”

“Hmm... Alright.”

Gregory stroked his chin as he looked up at the hospital building.

“Good, if several people heard it, it’s confirmed then. Who’s with Kiska now?”

“Mr. Lee is with her.”

“Our people?”

“We’ve assigned three, but since it’s a department with many civilians, they are on long-range protection.”

“Alright. How about Kay?”

“He’s in a single room in the VIP ward.”

“Hmm, since Kiska is in consultation, let’s see Kay first. How is he?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Is that so? Then let’s go in together.”

“Yes, boss.”

Gregory glanced at the doctors and nurses who were looking at him with fearful eyes, then approached them. While the hospital staff didn’t react to Gregory’s approach, they were startled to see the tattooed, bald Miroslav following him. Gregory raised his palms to show he meant no harm and smiled warmly.

“Ah, don’t worry, folks. We’re not here to cause any trouble. I’m just here to visit my daughter. Right, Miroslav?”

The employees’ expressions relaxed a bit, but they tensed up again under Miroslav’s sharp gaze. Gregory tapped Miroslav on the back as he stood beside him and smiled.

“This guy might look intimidating, but he’s a good fellow. Don’t be too afraid and please take good care of my daughter. Her name is Ki—”

“Boss!!”

Miroslav quickly interrupted Gregory, realizing what he was about to say. Gregory blinked a few times, aware that it wouldn’t be good if the rumors about Kiska’s mafia father spread. After a moment of embarrassment, Gregory sighed and gave a bitter smile towards the still frightened doctors and nurses.

“Anyway... please take care. So long.”

As Gregory bowed to the staff one last time and then stepped back into the hospital, the doctors and nurses exchanged worried looks. Gregory, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down, sighed deeply. He stood beside Miroslav, who had a complex expression, and lightly punched his broad chest with a grin.

“It’s alright. Don’t make that face.”

Miroslav looked concerned and said,

“But, boss...”

Gregory took out a cigar from his pocket, then realizing he was in front of the hospital, walked to a corner to light it. He then moved further away to a designated smoking area. Sitting on a bench equipped with an ashtray, Gregory finally lit his cigar and took a deep drag, exhaling while watching the darkening sky.

“I’ve always felt superior, standing above others. But ever since Natalie died, I’ve started to dislike the life I've lived. Miroslav, have you ever regretted choosing this path?”

Miroslav, keeping a sharp lookout around Gregory, hid his hands behind his coat and stood at ease before replying,

“No, I haven’t.”

Gregory gave a self-mocking laugh and took the cigar back into his mouth.

“Yet, when Kiska was in my arms, it didn’t feel as bad. Now that she spends more time away from me, and as she merges more with society, I hate my job even more for not being able to

proudly say I’m her father.”

Miroslav briefly remembered his own deceased wife and son but then shook his head and said,

“With a single word from you, boss, eight thousand of the Red Mafia move. Stay firm.”

Gregory smirked and nodded.

“That’s right, just let yourself hear these weak words. I’m not foolish enough to talk like this to the young ones below.”

“Foolish, sir? You are not foolish, boss.”

“Heh, that’s alright. Let’s go see Kay after I finish this cigar.”

Gregory smoked his cigar for a long time, typically cutting a cigar in half to smoke later, but this time he smoked a whole one while sitting. After throwing the cigar butt into the ashtray, he continued to sit on the cold bench for a while longer. As the cold winter wind chilled his nose, Miroslav hurriedly brought him a coat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t manage to bring it sooner.”

Gregory buttoned the front of the coat and chuckled,

“I could have frozen to death, heh. Let’s go.”

Miroslav accompanied him to the hospital elevator, but Gregory still noticed the civilians who couldn’t even enter the elevator after seeing Miroslav’s tattooed head. Gregory chuckled lightly at Miroslav.

“It seems like we don’t belong among these people, do we?”

Miroslav, unfazed, responded,

“We gave up on that when we chose the path of the mafia.”

“Heh, that’s true.”

The elevator reached the VIP ward, and as the doors opened, Miroslav quickly moved ahead to lead Gregory. As they approached the door to Geon’s room, Miroslav waited for Gregory to catch up before trying to open the door, but Gregory raised his hand to stop him.

“Ah, let me do it.”

Miroslav stepped aside, and Gregory quietly opened the door with a gentle motion, mindful of the patients inside. As the well-oiled sliding door opened smoothly, the sound of Geon and Carlos’s conversation drifted out. Not wanting to interrupt, Gregory stood still and inadvertently eavesdropped.

“Huh? You’re making another version of 'Fury'? Why?”

“Carlos, I made a mistake.”

“A mistake? Haven’t you heard how it’s being received? 'Fury' has been so successful it’s revitalizing the dying music industry. Why would you need to change such a song?”

“It’s not about re-recording the album. There are many musicians who alter the original tracks during live performances. That’s what I meant.”

“Ah, well, that’s always okay, but why?”

“You know the message in 'Fury', right?”

“Yeah, it’s about the anger towards parents, right? I’ve heard it reflects Kay’s upbringing and also includes bits about Kevin and Kiska.”

Gregory, unintentionally overhearing that the song also involved Kiska’s thoughts, slowly let go of the doorknob. His gaze dropped to the floor as he continued to listen to Geon and Carlos’s ongoing conversation.

“Did Kiska write the lyrics?”

“Yes, she did.”

Gregory quietly closed the door and stood outside the room for a long while, staring at the floor. He then sat down on a nearby black chair and looked up at Miroslav, weakly smiling.

“It seems I don’t belong here either.”

Miroslav, looking down at him, had a complicated expression. Gregory, having overheard the conversation and left, was unknown to Geon, who handed Carlos a sheet of music and said,

“Kiska doesn’t resent him for losing her mother because she saw the people who took her away, and because he’s always been a caring father. These lyrics were written after she heard about my upbringing in the rehearsal room and captured my feelings.”

Carlos took the sheet from Geon and tilted his head,

“So, it’s not Kiska’s feelings?”

“No, think of it as if she read a book and wrote a reflection on it. A quite extraordinary reflection.”

“Hmm, I see. But how is that related to the musical arrangement?”

Geon, recalling what Amdusias had said about the music in a dream, bit his lip and responded,

“You said the song has both anger and affection, right? But from what I see, that love-hate is just petty 'resentment.' It’s like the tantrums of a teenager.”

Carlos widened his eyes and countered,

“Resentment?”

“Yes, resentment. Why couldn’t you do better for me? Why didn’t you treat me better? That kind of low-level resentment.”

Carlos looked at the sheet music again and pursed his lips,

“I don’t really get it.”

Geon took the music sheet from Carlos’s hand and said,

“That’s right, I made it that way because that was how I felt when I was explaining my past to Kiska, and she read my feelings

and wrote the lyrics she thought I would like.”

Carlos crossed his arms and asked,

“So? Resentment is also a human emotion, and it’s not strange for anger, affection, and resentment to coexist in one song.”

Geon shook his head and crumpled the sheet.

“No, that wasn’t what I wanted to say.”

“Hmm... What was the anger you wanted to talk about then?”

Geon crumpled the sheet tighter and looked out the window,

“It was anger at myself. That was it.”

>

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