Devil’s Music

Chapter 310: Liverpool Sound City

Carlos and Geon clinked their beer glasses together, enjoying the cold drinks as they sat side by side on a sofa placed by the window of the hotel room. Unlike Carlos, who gulped down his beer, Geon sipped his slowly while staring out the window. Silence lingered between them for a while.

Finally, Carlos spoke up, breaking the quiet, “Heard any news about Kiska?”

Geon responded with a self-mocking laugh, his eyes sad as he continued to gaze outside. Carlos took another sip from his beer can and said, “Everyone has their blue days, and it seems like you’re having yours right now. But here’s the thing—everything born into this world must prepare for an inevitable goodbye. Meeting, knowing, loving, and parting are the sad stories common to all humanity.”

Quietly, Geon turned to meet Carlos’s gaze and asked, “Have you ever experienced such things?”

Carlos downed the rest of his beer and reached for a new can, sending a distant look out the window before replying, “How could I not have? I’ve loved and parted ways countless times. Not with someone young like a little brother, of course, but the sorrow of parting is much the same.”

Geon looked down and then back up at Carlos, “What did you do when you faced such unbearable sadness?”

Carlos paused his drinking and looked seriously at Geon, “You really had feelings for that kid? Calling it unbearable is a bit much, isn’t it?”

Geon managed a bitter smile, “No, it’s just that we lived together for so long, they felt like family. Actually, the only person I can truly say I loved in my family was my sister Shihwa. I guess I thought of Kiska more as a younger sibling than even her.”

Carlos, smirking slightly and nodding, held up his beer can, “The pain of parting from family, that’s close enough.”

He continued, “And there’s a way out of this severe grief... Musicians, naturally, resolve everything through music.”

Geon chuckled at Carlos’s words, and Carlos added, “Not trying to sound cool or anything. I've lived it. When I loved, I sang about love; when I parted, I sang about parting. When I was happy, my songs were joyful, and when I was sad, my music cried tears. That’s how I’ve lived, and that’s how I believe a true musician should live on this earth. Of course, that’s just my personal belief.”

Geon looked at him thoughtfully and then asked, “Do you think I could do the same?”

Carlos looked at him intently and replied, “I suppose I should say, ‘Of course you can!’ But to be honest, from what I’ve seen of you so far, I’m not sure.”

“Are you referring to how I cared for Kiska?” Geon asked.

“No,” Carlos turned his gaze back outside, falling silent for a moment before continuing, “You don’t enjoy music.”

Geon’s eyebrows twitched, “What do you mean?”

Carlos’s expression deepened, “From the moment I first saw you, I felt it. You’re definitely a genius, but whether you’re channeling that genius in the right direction, I’m not sure.”

Geon leaned forward, detaching himself from the sofa, “Could you explain?”

Setting down his beer can on the table, Carlos met Geon’s gaze. After a moment, he slowly began, “Think back to the Lollapalooza festival. I was amazed by your singing on stage and even saw visions over the heads of the audience listening to your music. That’s how much your performance struck me.”

Though the words felt embarrassing, Carlos, seeing Geon listening intently, continued, “I’ve kept an eye on you since then. I was curious to see how far you’d soar. And soar you did, but it hasn’t seemed to bring you happiness. I have two questions for you, if you don’t mind?”

Geon nodded, and Carlos held up a finger, “Do you enjoy making music, singing, playing?”

“Of course,” Geon nodded vigorously, “that’s why I do it.”

Carlos held up a second finger with a serious expression, “And what do you think about when you’re playing, singing, making music?”

Geon pondered for a while before answering, “How can I perfectly convey the emotions I want to express through my music? How can I amplify the feelings and deliver a perfect performance and song to my audience? And I always strive for that.”

Carlos slowly folded his fingers, “Back to the first question then. Are you having fun when you make your music, perform, sing?”

“What? What do you mean?” Geon was perplexed.

“Not the joy you see in your audience’s faces. Did you enjoy performing ‘Fury’, playing it, singing it?”

Geon, taken aback by the unexpected question, replied, “‘Fury’ isn’t a song about joy, Carlos. It’s about unleashing anger. How could I enjoy making such a song?”

Carlos crossed his arms and chuckled lightly, “Alright, but what about other songs? Or when you play with other musicians? Even when you performed at the zoo orchestra or shared the opera stage with Professor Leontine Price, you always gave a perfect performance, a perfect play, a perfect song. I’m not denying that. But did you enjoy those stages? Did you enjoy the process of making music?”

Geon’s mouth hung open, a blank expression on his face as silence fell. Carlos continued, “Again, I have no doubts about your genius. You always create amazing music and deliver matching performances. I believe you will continue to do so. But you have never enjoyed the music you make, the songs you sing, the performances you give.”

Carlos rose from the sofa and walked over to the window, looking down at Geon, “I hope you become a musician who can enjoy his own music. Even if it’s not perfect, even if it doesn’t please everyone, you need to make music that comforts you, that you enjoy. That’s the energy you’ll need to keep going as a musician for a lifetime. That’s the advice I want to give you.”

Carlos leaned against the window sill, wrapping his arms and looking down at Geon. After a long silence, as the fizz in Geon’s beer can died down, his eyes refocused. Looking up at Carlos, he said, “You’re right. I’ve never really enjoyed being on stage. I’ve only thought about creating perfect music, performing perfectly, singing perfectly.”

Carlos stepped away from the window, “That’s where it all starts, realizing it. It might be tough, but what you realize, you have to put into practice. Enjoy your music, be sadder with sad music, and happier with joyful music.”

“But Carlos, my current situation and ‘Fury’ don’t really match. I’m feeling sad, not angry.”

Carlos looked down at Geon with a serious smile, “That’s a common human mistake. But only those who can contemplate themselves correctly can live a proper life. How can someone who can’t even accurately judge their own feelings manage to move others with their music?”

Geon looked puzzled, and Carlos sat back down on the sofa, “Listen. Every human sorrow involves some anger. Why? Let’s consider a few examples. If someone is sad about a breakup, they will soon become angry about the circumstances that led to it, their own wrong actions, decisions, or those of the other person.”

Geon nodded slightly as he listened attentively. Carlos added, “If a child regrets not being able to send their parents on a trip before they pass away, they’re also angry with themselves for not doing better when they had the chance. Humans feel sorrow and anger together, or at least intertwined.”

As Geon seemed lost in thought, Carlos concluded, “It’s the same for you now. The impotence you feel watching Kiska leave, whether you think of them as family or a lover, the powerlessness to stop someone you care about from leaving—it’s definitely there inside you. It just takes the brain some time to recognize it. But soon, you’ll find yourself exploding in anger.”

Carlos got up, knelt in front of Geon’s sofa, and met his eyes, “Let it out before it bursts. It should happen on stage, and you’ll find yourself more at ease by venting your anger. You can trust me on that, I’ve been there.”

Without another word, Geon just looked into Carlos’s eyes. Carlos picked up a beer can and headed towards the door, “Enjoy the rest of your beer. See you in the morning.”

Carlos left, and Geon remained alone on the sofa, looking out the window for a long time.

The next morning.

As Kevin was about to go out for breakfast, he saw Byungjun scratching his disheveled hair in front of Geon’s room. Kevin approached him and asked, “What’s up?”

Byungjun jumped with a start and then glared at Kevin before looking back at Geon’s door with a troubled expression, “Ah, I should wake him up... but I feel bad, he might have been up late feeling sad.”

Kevin pointed at the closed door of Geon’s room with a blank expression, “Is something wrong with Kay? The mood seemed a bit off.”

Byungjun sighed deeply and shook his head, “It’s just a personal matter, you don’t need to know. Oh, but there’s not much time, what to do…”

Kevin glanced at his watch and then said, “There’s still some time to eat, why not let him sleep a bit more?”

“A guy who needs to sing can’t perform well on an empty stomach. We need to get him

to eat and then move on, but it’s a big problem…”

“Let’s go eat.”

“Yeah, okay. What? Oh?”

Hearing Geon’s voice from behind, Byungjun reflexively responded before turning around in surprise. Geon, already dressed, was standing by his open room door, smiling and patting Byungjun on the shoulder.

“Let’s go eat. We’re late for the show.”

“Uh, yes, right. Let’s go!”

While Byungjun smiled happily, Kevin, still with a dumbfounded expression, found his arm wrapped by Geon, who grinned and then set his face seriously again. Dragged by Geon’s strength, Kevin yelled, “Hey, let go, it’s hurting my back!”

Geon tightened his grip around Kevin’s neck and laughed, “Hurry up and eat, and let’s go have some fun!”

>

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