As darkness engulfed the city and even the noise subsided, a time of utter silence ensued. Those afflicted by insomnia and overtime, unable to find sleep, one by one drifted into their dreams. Geon, worn out from the continuous meetings throughout the day, soon succumbed to sleep as he lay on his bed.
Everything around Geon, including himself in deep slumber, turned monochrome. The ticking of the second hand on the small clock echoed faintly, then ceased, and the world paused.
"Is this the child Andras is taking an interest in?"
The apparition was a middle-aged man in a white suit. He had golden waves of hair and a clean jawline without any beard, complementing his blue eyes. Standing well over 2 meters tall, he peered down at Geon lying on the bed.
"Hmm, indeed, a child blessed by the devil, with outstanding looks. Isn't that right? Not just one Andras? I sense the power of several demons, a pitiful child."
The middle-aged man reached out, as if to stroke Geon's head.
At that moment, a suddenly appeared white hand forcefully intercepted the middle-aged man's hand.
"Remove your hand, Caliel."
The voice, tinged with a hint of anger, belonged to Andras.
Andras kept staring as Caliel slowly withdrew his hand. Once Caliel had completely stepped back, Andras blocked the way in front of Geon.
"The 18th Angel, Caliel. The angel offering a helping hand in times of unintended calamity. It's been quite some time. Perhaps since the time of Amagethon, countless millennia ago, that I can't even recall."
The middle-aged man addressed as Caliel brushed his wavy bangs aside.
"Andras, it's been a while. You still walk around as a handsome middle-aged man. I find a certain charm in appearing as a slightly aged gentleman."
Caliel retorted without hesitation.
"Why have you come? Are you intending to snatch away the demons' blessings from this child?"
With a slight smile, Caliel replied, "Oh? Is that so? Are you considering meddling in the human world? To incite a Second Amagethon for just this one human child?"
Andras unbound his hands, facing Caliel.
"If it needs to be done, it will be done."
Caliel, holding a serious expression, observed Andras until he withdrew further.
"If that's what it takes."
Andras brought his hand to his chin, looking at Caliel.
"Ah, so the rumors were true. You, Caliel. Are you really considering returning as an angel?"
Andras asked, furrowing his brows.
"Rumors? Where did you hear that from?"
Caliel, cautious, withdrew a step, gesturing with his hand.
"Don't worry. I won't cause harm to the child."
With an intense stare, Caliel advanced closer as Caliel backed off, demanding, "Tell me. Where did you hear it?"
Caliel leaned against the desk chair in Geon's room, waiting.
"Michael knows."
The Archangel Michael, the supreme commander of God's army mentioned in the Book of Joshua. When Lucifer became Satan and attacked Heaven with the dragon's army, Michael led the defense, defeating him, the mightiest among the angels, and currently serving as the leader of the angels.
Surprised by Michael's involvement, Caliel exclaimed, "Michael? How does he know about this?"
Smirking, Caliel replied, "Have you forgotten about Nanael's existence? The angel overseeing dreams. Do you think angels wouldn't know about appearances through a child's dreams in the human world?"
Caliel twitched his eyebrows, waiting for the next words.
Seeing Caliel's reaction, Andras chuckled. "Haha, don't worry. Michael seemed quite intrigued. My visit here today isn't to hinder you but rather to assist."
When Andras noticed Caliel's skeptical gaze, he continued, "In the name of the 18th Angel Caliel, command that the power to control human emotions through this child's voice be bestowed upon him. When the child expresses sadness, let the listener also feel sad, and when the child expresses joy, let the listener rejoice."
"Enough with the long talk. Tell me what Michael wishes to accomplish."
Seating himself on the desk, Caliel demanded.
"My ability. He wishes for it to be shared."
Caliel eyed Andras for a while, then sighed.
"Fine. So, Michael has noticed. Your ability refers to manipulating human emotions, doesn't it? You're well aware that it's your doing when humans pray joyfully, dance, or shed tears moved by the Holy Spirit. It's a skill that will surely aid the one destined for music. But why?"
Smiling, Andras approached.
"Michael aims for the butterfly effect. If the 4th-ranked demon of Hell ascends as an angel, wouldn't other demons entertain similar thoughts? Even if their numbers aren't many, it could significantly disrupt Hell and revive Heaven. He also seems quite hopeful for your return to Heaven. I've heard you were rather close before Amagethon, isn't that so?"
Nodding, Caliel placed his hand on Geon's head.
"Well then, trust me, and let me attend to my business. Just as we noticed your frequent visits to the human world, demons might catch on, just so you know."
Though Caliel nodded, he stood close to Geon, restraining Caliel. Seeing this, Andras smirked, firmly holding his expression.
"Alright, enough with the suspicion. Now, let me attend to my work."
"In the name of the 18th Angel, Caliel, I command: grant this child the power to modulate human emotions through his voice. When he voices sorrow, let the listeners feel sorrow, and when he voices joy, let them leap in happiness."
Geon found himself in a dream on December 7th, 1980, at New York's Central Park.
The park, situated in the heart of the city, was notably vast, fitting well into the extensive American land. The lush forest within the city seemed somewhat out of place yet oddly harmonious.
Without being disconcerted by this vivid dream—the third one he had experienced—Geon strolled around Central Park.
Despite the winter weather, people in thin hoodies and shorts exercised, kids frolicked on the grass, and a hotdog stand was stationed along the street. Everything felt serene.
Geon wandered through the park until he caught sight of a magnificent Renaissance-style building beyond the park's trees. Adorned with apricot-colored walls and a blue roof with pointed peaks, the structure resembled a lavish European cathedral from a distance.
While Geon observed the building for a while, he couldn't get closer as a gatekeeper dressed in black prevented access to the entrance. Spotting a bench a little further away that provided a view of the building, he approached and sat down to examine its details.
"Wow, that building looks amazing. Is it a hotel? I wish I could spend a day there."
Geon mumbled to himself, scratching the back of his head, when suddenly a hand appeared beside him.
"It's impressive, right? That's not a hotel, though. It's an apartment, Dakota Apartments."
Geon, startled by the sudden appearance of the person speaking, looked at him. The man had quietly seated himself next to Geon. Wearing small round glasses and having short brown wavy hair that seemed shorter compared to his face, the man had a rather pointed nose. Although he seemed a bit sharp, his slightly squinted eyes softened his overall appearance.
"Oh, yes, it is. An apartment, indeed. It's impressive, haha."
Geon replied, scratching the back of his head, while the man extended his hand towards Geon.
"What's wrong? Don't want it?"
Only then did Geon notice the man's hand in front of his face, holding a hotdog with steaming condiments. Perplexed, Geon looked at the man.
The man chuckled and extended his hand again, holding the hotdog. "Eat up. This hotdog is top-notch. It's been the best from my childhood in Strawberry Fields till now, never changed once in decades. Don't worry; it's only 50 cents. Gotta show some gratitude to the one admiring my home."
Geon accepted the hotdog, asking, "Is this your home? That big one there?"
The man slightly shook his head. "No, not entirely mine. It's an apartment. My real home is in England."
Taking a bite, Geon thanked him, "Wow, it tastes really good. Thank you."
The man smiled at Geon's reaction, "You're quite the handsome lad. Just don't smile carelessly in Harlem. If a handsome guy like you smiles so easily, the guys in Harlem might swarm you, thinking otherwise."
As Geon chuckled, the man glanced at the apartment again. "I always finish my recordings and come sit on this bench, looking at my home. Although it's spacious, my real home in England lacks the warmth and feeling of people living together."
Geon nodded. "Our home is an apartment too. The couple next door is quite nice. Sometimes, the noise between floors annoys us, but having neighbors feels good."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Noise between floors? Is the person above shooting a gun?"
Geon chuckled, "No, nothing like that. Just the sound of moving chairs or footsteps echoing a bit."
The man smirked. "That's nothing to fuss about. When living together, understanding each other is essential. Peace, my handsome friend, peace."
Geon nodded in agreement. "Yes, I've never been angry or said anything. But, sir, earlier you mentioned coming here after finishing recording. What do you do?"
The man furrowed his brow, looking at Geon. "Hmm, is it because I'm Asian? It's been a while since someone didn't recognize me. Quite refreshing, haha."
As the man stood up, he said, "The apartment. Want to take a look inside? Have a little tour?"
Unable to resist the man's insistence, Geon followed him into the apartment.
The lobby, adorned with various artworks, complemented the Renaissance-style exterior. Murals adorned the ceilings and floors. The man led Geon towards an elevator with intricate grilles, which creaked to a stop, taking them to the 6th floor. Passing through a long corridor lined with white doors, the man took out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door at the far end.
"Yoko, I'm back," the man announced as they entered.
A woman's voice echoed from inside, "John, why are you so late?"
Geon froze at the threshold. "Yoko...? John...? Jo...Jo...John Lennon?!"