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  1. Home
  2. Devil’s Music
  3. Chapter 6
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Translator:Ruby

Editor: Walker

Geon gawked at the piles of gifts and tables laden with food that filled Elvis’s waiting room.

“Wow… It all looks very delicious.”

Elvis picked up a slice of an apple pie that a fan had made for him and gave it to Geon, chuckling softly.

“Aren’t I quite popular now? Try the pie, it’s delicious. There’s some orange juice on the table if you’re thirsty.”

Geon bowed

Elvis grinned at the sight of Geon’s overly polite behaviour. Geon started to devour the pie like he had never eaten pie before.

“It’s really good! I’ll ask my mom to make it for me sometime.”, he said with his mouth full.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, you don’t want to get indigestion. Have some juice too. By the way, where do you live? And why haven’t you grown at all since the last time I saw you ? Do you have some sort of disease? How could you be the exact same size?”

Geon shoved the rest of the apple pie into his mouth before speaking.

“Don’t worry about that. This is just a dream anyways, so I’ll start growing again once I wake up. My mom always says I’ll grow taller than my friends, you know. Won’t I grow taller than you?”

Elvis looked at him with a puzzled face.

“Dream? What are you talking about? That meeting me is like a dream? I’ve gone from a poor truck driver to a famous singer, after all. You didn’t expect to meet me again, right?”

Geon shook his head and decided to give up on explaining.

The pies in front of him were much more interesting than that.

The singer smiled bitterly at the fact that the pies interested the child more than he did.

Suddenly, the door burst open and a blond man in his 30s came in.

He was the photographer Geon had seen when he first arrived.

He looked at Elvis and Geon and started shouting.

“Elvis!! You can’t cut a show in the middle like that!! The Army Chief of Staff is out there!! Are you crazy?!.”

“Hey, William. Your only job is to take the pictures for my album jacket. You don’t have to nag me, all right?”

The photographer sat on a sofa, still looking confused.

“If I were Sam, I would have kicked your sorry butt right back to that stage. Unless you can’t even take the CEO of Sun Records seriously.”

William picked up a cigarette and scoffed at Geon.

“Who’s this kid? They’re already saying he’s your hidden love child out there.”

Elvis laughed.

“William, you remember that kid I told you about?”

He twirled the cigarette case around in his hand and looked up at Elvis.

“How could I forget? You talk about him every time you get drunk, it’s like clockwork. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, you owe him your career, yada yada.”

“Well, this is him. Kim Geon.”

William put down the cigarette case and looked up with an astonished expression.

William V. Robertson was one of the most famous photographers in his field. Elvis hired him a year previously to shoot his album jacket, and since then they had become close friends.

He clearly remembered the first time they drank together. It was Jack Daniels, as always. If Elvis hadn’t decided to step away from his small Tennessee music label, they might have never met.

“So you’re Geon. Nice to meet you. I’m Elvis’s friend, William.”

Geon stood up and bowed to him.

“Hello. My name is Kim Geon.”

William was perplexed by the strange Asian greeting, but brushed it off as overdone politeness.

“I see. You’re just as cute as I’ve been told. Now that we finally meet, I wanted to thank you for helping my friend.”

Geon had no idea what William meant. All he did was have a short conversation with Elvis.

The singer grinned at Geon’s confusion.

“That’s right,Geon. Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll sign it, sing it, whatever.”

“Ummmm… You could really do anything?”

Elvis scoffed playfully.

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“Of course! I’m Elvis Presley! You’re talking to the most famous singer in America. C’mon, anything.”

Geon stopped to think for a moment.

“If this is a dream, anything I ask for will disappear when I wake up. I can’t be greedy for material things,” he muttered to himself.

After a long few seconds, he had made up his mind.

“Singing. I want to sing well.”

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