John Lennon took off his coat and hung it on the hanger, asking, "Yoko, where's Sean?"
Yoko, carrying a boy who looked about five years old, came out of the room and said, "He's here with me. Sean, Daddy's here, right? We had a guest. Hello?"
Geon politely nodded in greeting to Yoko. Yoko, seeing the eastern-style greeting after a long time, handed Sean to John and greeted him with a smile.
"Oh my, Japanese?" Geon said, tilting his head.
"I'm Korean, Mr. Yoko," Yoko nodded with a smile.
"I see. Oh, I'm different from other Japanese. Although I'm from Japan, I've lived abroad since I was young. Just like John, I'm also against war. I don't like Japan, my home country, which has caused so much suffering through war. So, I don't dislike your country, known as the Republic of Korea, not Korea."
Geon lightly tapped Sean's bottom and said, "Ah, Korean? Don't hate Yoko; she's my beloved wife. By the way, I didn't even know your name when I brought you into my house. What's your name?"
"It's Geon Kim, Mr. Lennon. I'm sorry for not recognizing you. I never thought I'd meet John Lennon of the Beatles on a bench in a New York park. I admire you, Mr. Lennon."
John laughed after handing Sean back to Yoko, saying, "Ah, so you know me. This restores a bit of my dignity, haha. Yoko, since we have a guest, can't we offer something to eat?"
As Yoko laughed and headed to the kitchen with Sean, John gestured for Geon to take a seat on the sofa.
As Geon sat down, John said, "I don't know why, but I sense a scent of music from you. Are you also a musician?"
"Can you smell that too?" Geon asked, slightly surprised.
John chuckled loudly, "Hahaha! You're a teasing friend. I just guessed, that's all, hahaha."
Feeling teased, Geon blushed and scratched the back of his head.
Geon and John started chatting while eating the pie Yoko had brought.
"Mr. Lennon, as you guessed earlier, I want to grow up as a musician. I'm not at a level where I can confidently say I'm making music yet. Do you have any advice for me?"
John took a bite of the pie, smiled at Geon, and said, "How about this? Let's give each other advice. We'll each share something."
Geon chuckled awkwardly, "What advice can I give Mr. Lennon in my area?"
John wiggled his index finger and said, "Oh, your area is music, right? You can advise me in any other area, whatever that might be. Deal?"
Geon nodded understandingly, "Yes, but I might not be of much help. Don't expect too much, haha."
"Alright, deal's made. So, about musical advice, when you make music, what do you think? Do you aim to create good music or to earn money? What's your approach?"
"In truth, I haven't made music myself, Mr. Lennon. But if I did, I'd want to create high-quality, outstanding music. Something that could become a masterpiece and gain recognition from critics."
John stood up from the sofa, looked out the window with his arms crossed, and said, "You're wrong."
Seeing Geon's confusion, John continued, "Yoko is Japanese. So, she's heard a lot about Japan's historical periods. There was a famous warrior named Oda Nobunaga in ancient Japan. Then there was Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and also Tokugawa Ieyasu. They sequentially ruled Japan."
Seeing Geon nod as if he knew, John continued speaking.
"Ever heard of the tale of the 'bird that doesn't cry'? There was a gathering where Oda Nobunaga composed impromptu poems, expressing thoughts on a given premise. Once, the theme was 'What would you do if there was a bird that doesn't cry?'"
John raised a finger and said, "Oda Nobunaga, known for his aggressiveness and innovation, replied, 'Kill the bird if it doesn't cry.' A harsh answer indeed. He was the most powerful leader and could ruthlessly deal with his subordinates for his cause."
Raising a second finger, John continued, "Toyotomi Hideyoshi said, 'If there's a bird that doesn't cry, make it cry.' Also, a strategic answer. He was the one who led the invasion of Korea, as you might know. He didn't hesitate to use any means to achieve his goals."
John raised a third finger and said, "Tokugawa Ieyasu said, 'If there's a bird that doesn't cry, I'll wait until it does.' This illustrates his patience. He subdued himself and waited, ultimately seizing power. In Japanese history, Tokugawa Ieyasu is the epitome of patience."
Finally, raising a fourth finger, John asked, "So, what would my answer be, Geon?"
Geon, appearing uncertain, looked at John.
John, seeing Geon's hesitation, turned away from the window, looked at Geon, and said, "My answer is, 'If there's a bird that doesn't cry, I'll sing until it follows.'"
Geon seemed to understand, and John added, "Music that doesn't consider the listener is merely a feast for a few critics. Music traces back to ancient times, from primitive percussion instruments. It existed for joyful dances after hunting or to mourn the dead. Music made without considering the listener's emotions is trash."
Geon felt as if a thousand lightning bolts struck his mind.
John spoke up.
"By any chance, do you know the lyrics to my song 'Imagine'?"
Nodding, Geon recalled the lyrics.
---
[Imagine: Imagine this]
Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today, yeah
Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace, you
You might call me a dreamer,
But I'm not the only one
Someday you will join us, and the world will be as one.
---
Watching Geon reflect on the lyrics in his mind, John continued.
"People say that I sprinkled too much sugar in my songs for conservative folks like Paul McCartney, thus diluting the essence of my beliefs. Sure, I did say that when Paul praised my song. But think about it. What if the melody of that song was complex, hard for the masses to grasp? Would many have sung along or been influenced by my thoughts if it were an intricate and less accessible piece?"
Geon shook his head, indicating disagreement.
"No, probably not. In music, lyrics matter, but what people first connect with is the melody."
John snapped his fingers.
"Exactly! That's why encapsulating ideals in easily approachable music, carrying emotions that resonate within lyrics and melody, is vital. That's the music I create, Geon. It's the answer I found dedicating my life to music."
Approaching Geon, John continued.
"I've experimented too. I had a song called 'Some Time In New York City.' It encapsulated my beliefs and messages deeply, but its melody was too intricate. Critics praised it, yet no one remembered it. That's when it became clearer to me."
Sitting back on the couch opposite Geon, John crossed his legs.
"From my first band, the Quarrymen, through The Beatles, albums with Yoko, and my solo works, I've gone through numerous trials and tasted musical despair. When I felt disillusioned with The Beatles, Yoko appeared, and I even turned the Beatles' dissolution attributed to her around. It was all my struggle to break free from musical despair."
Taking a bite of pie, John mused.
"Today, this pie tastes good! Anyway, I hope you've wandered less than me, at least."
Geon closed his eyes, pondering John's words. They felt like something to engrave deep within, akin to fossilized words.
John patiently waited until Geon opened his eyes, hinting that he sensed something stirring within the younger man.
Finally, as Geon's expression brightened a bit, John chuckled deeply.
"Looks like something struck a chord in you, young lad. Your comprehension is sharp. Alright, it's your turn now. Any advice for me?"
Geon replied with a cheerful expression.
"Mr. Lennon, your words were truly enlightening for me. I'll treasure and remember them for life. You'll remain the person who influenced me musically the most."
John laughed, waving his hand dismissively.
"Well, that's an honor! Haha, enough of that. Don't give me flattery. I'm sure I've cleared some debt of advice with you. Now it's your turn to advise me."
Geon pondered, wrestling with John's words. John patiently waited with a persistent smile.
After a while, as if struck by a sudden thought, Geon asked.
"Mr. Lennon, you mentioned earlier about releasing a song called 'Some Time In New York City.' So... what year is it now?"
John shrugged in amusement.
"The year? You're living without knowing the year? That's amusing. It's 1980."
Geon's expression froze.
"1980? It's 1980? Then... Mr. Lennon!! What's today's date?"
John, finding Geon's reaction odd, glanced at the calendar before replying.
"Let me see... It's December 8th. Why?"
Geon's face stiffened.
"Mr. Lennon... in two days. Absolutely do not go out. Do you understand?"
John looked at Geon, puzzled.
"What are you talking about? Why? Stay calm; is this some advice? Are you seeing the future? Why that day? Is there a war about to break, dropping missiles on New York?"
Geon urgently replied.
"No, it's not that! Even if you don't believe me, Mr. Lennon, just remember what I'm saying when you go out in two days."
John, unable to comprehend fully, nodded reluctantly.
"Alright, alright. I don't get it, but I'll keep it in mind. Feels like you've hit me with something, haha! Well, now we must put Sean to bed. Shall we conclude our meeting here?"
Geon looked sadly at John and slowly walked out towards the front door.
"Mr. Lennon, please remember what I've said."
Two days later, while returning home after finishing a recording session with Yoko, John was shot four times by Mark David Chapman, a mentally disturbed individual, and died.