Devil’s Music

Chapter 275: The Youngest Son of the President

Chapter 275: The Youngest Son of the President

As the evening grew dim, Kevin, who had been playing guitar on the street whether people watched or not, hurriedly packed his instrument into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, glancing at a bench far away.

"Still there? Don't they have anything better to do? Thanks for watching, but if you're going to watch, at least pay a dollar!"

Kevin, after giving Geon and Kiska a sharp look, trudged off with his heavy bag, seemingly exhausted. Without bus fare, he walked for a while before turning right into an alley past Northeast 50th Street in Seattle. Geon, who had handed over Kiska, who had fallen asleep while waiting, to a distant bodyguard, followed Kevin from a distance. Enjoying the thrill of secretly following someone, like a scene from a spy movie, Geon stealthily moved from behind trees to behind trash cans, until he saw Kevin entering the basement of a building.

Geon looked around briefly before standing in front of the basement, reading the sign.

"Star... Karaoke?"

With a look of disbelief, Geon stared at the stairs leading down.

"The president's son works here?"

Geon, lost in thought with his arms crossed, gestured to the bodyguards who were following him. Three organization members, who had been hiding and participating in Geon's game of tailing, hurried over.

"I'll go in alone, please stay outside."

The organization members, who had been ordered by Miroslav to obey Geon's words without question, stood on both sides of the staircase without any objection, and Geon looked around briefly before heading down the stairs. Halfway down the brightly lit staircase, a dazzling neon sign that read 'Star Karaoke' appeared. As Geon stood in front of the sign, an automatic door to his left opened, and a waiter, who appeared to be Asian, shouted.

"Welcome! This is Star Karaoke!"

Geon, not used to being greeted this way in American stores, adjusted his sunglasses and hat and covered the lower half of his face with a scarf.

"Ah, yes. Just me."

The Japanese staff member, with his hair slicked back and giving off a slick vibe, cheerfully responded in fluent English.

"Yes, welcome, even if you're alone. Would you like a room, or would you prefer the hall?"

Geon listened carefully before asking.

"Is the hall where they are tuning instruments right now?"

The staff member, looking towards the noisy hall where the tuning wasn't quite right, said,

"Yes, that's the hall. The musicians have just started their shifts, so it might take a while before you can sing if you go to the hall now. The rooms have karaoke machines, so you can sing right away."

"Ah, that's alright. I'll wait in the hall."

"Understood! Then I'll take you to the hall, right this way!"

Following the staff member past a large counter to the hall, Geon saw a small band of pot-bellied men standing against the wall with a mic stand on a small stage. Kevin, tuning his bass guitar with a displeased expression, was in the corner of the small band.

Geon, seated by the staff member, asked,

"That young man playing the bass guitar, he's quite young, isn't he?"

The staff member glanced at the stage and nodded.

"Yes, he's a new friend who agreed to work starting today. He auditioned with us and his skills were outstanding. Since there are no customers right now, we'll let him play the first song once he's done tuning."

Geon laughed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Haha, that's alright. I'll let you know if I want to. Here's a tip for you. Thank you."

The staff member, surprised by the generous tip Geon casually offered, bent at a ninety-degree angle and shouted,

"Please let me know if you need anything! Shall I bring you the standard order? It's $40 and includes six bottles of beer and some fruit snacks, sir. Since you've come before eight, it's a discounted price."

Although drinking six bottles of beer alone was a bit much, Geon nodded vaguely, and the staff member, perhaps encouraged by the tip, ran off like the wind to bring the beer. Before the snacks arrived, he quickly opened a bottle and poured it into Geon's glass, to which Geon smiled in gratitude and focused his attention on Kevin tuning his guitar.

Meanwhile, Kevin, who had just met the elderly gentlemen in the band, frowned after exchanging simple greetings.

"Damn, if this is what they call sound. The amp produces a torn sound, and the back wall is circular! Even a rectangular wall might not spread the sound properly, who designed this place?"

Despite his dissatisfaction and puffing out his cheeks, Kevin managed his expression while glancing at the

Japanese owner watching from the counter.

"But it's a job I managed to get, and I feel bad asking mom for money. I'll try to earn my living expenses. Maybe I can manage with one or two part-time jobs like this."

Soon, the early evening guests, thoroughly drunk, started filling the seats. Contrary to expectations that the karaoke would primarily attract Asian customers, there were quite a few Westerners. A large, white grandfather, holding a beer bottle and swaying, stepped onto the stage and tapped the guitar stand.

"Hey, band. Play a song for me, will you?"

The white-haired grandfather holding the guitar asked with a smile,

"Yes, sir. What would you like us to play?"

"My name's not 'sir,' it's Danny. What's your name?"

The guitarist, not offended by the direct address from a customer of similar age, politely joined his hands and smiled.

"Yes, my name is Tyler."

"Alright, Tyler. I'm counting on you. If the performance is good, I'll give you a generous tip. On a day like today, I need to drink a bit."

"Oh, thank you, Danny. What song would you like?"

Tyler, holding the guitar stand and striking a pose, said,

"The Beatles! 'Come Together', please!"

Tyler looked momentarily troubled and glanced at the drummer and Kevin.

"Um.. sir, that song might be easy to play but difficult to sing..."

Danny, annoyed, tapped the guitar stand sharply.

"What? Are you mocking me?"

Tyler hurriedly waved his hands.

"No! No, sir. Of course not. Then, we'll play it."

"Start when I give the signal!"

"Yes, yes, sir."

Danny, holding the mic stand, counted off like a rock star.

"One! Two! One two three four!"

As the drum, guitar, and bass entered the groovy intro of "Come Together," Danny bobbed his legs to the rhythm. The sight of his protruding belly bouncing made the drunken audience laugh, prompting Danny to overdo it with strange dance moves, attracting everyone's attention. However, Geon, sitting in a corner and watching the stage, focused on Kevin's playing.

"Hmm... His groove is exceptional. His playing may even surpass Paul McCartney's in groove, but... the bass shouldn't stand out like that in this song. Kevin needs to consider the abilities of the other musicians."

Sure enough, as the audience's attention turned to Kevin due to the overpowering bass volume, Danny shouted into the mic,

"Stop!! Hold it!"

The musicians abruptly stopped playing, and Danny, after kicking the mic stand over and swaying from the alcohol, approached the bass amp and turned down the volume. Kevin looked up at Danny, who pointed angrily and said with a threatening face,

"The star here is me, not you. Got it? Play at this volume. Who do you think you are, disrupting my vocals with your inconsequential bass? How dare you."

Kevin frowned and started to put away his guitar when Tyler quickly approached, shielding Kevin, and said,

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. We'll do it that way."

Tyler, shielding Kevin's expression with his body, calmed Danny down and straightened the fallen mic stand. He signaled Kevin to be patient with a look, then waited for Danny to give the signal again. After a moment, Danny signaled, and the music restarted, but the reduced volume of the bass guitar was hardly audible. Danny, looking satisfied, finished the song with a vocal performance that, unlike John Lennon's precise rhythm, consisted mostly of shouting, and then pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and handed them to Tyler.

"Here, this is for the tip. But don't give any to that bass guitarist kid. This is only for you and that drummer guy over there."

Danny turned to look at Kevin sitting down, spat on the stage, and then staggered off. Kevin, grimacing, started to rise from his seat when Tyler rushed over, hugged him, and whispered urgently,

"Hold back! If you get angry now, you'll be kicked out. In a place like this, you'll see dozens of guys like him every day. If you can't endure this, you can't work here!"

Tyler's words made Kevin grit his teeth and slump back into his seat, covering his eyes with his hands and sighing.

"Phew.. How did I end up here.."

Tyler shook his head disapprovingly at Kevin.

"You seem skilled, but I can't understand why you ended up here. If you want to keep working here, you need to control your temper. Look, see? That wealthy Japanese owner is glaring at you. He's monitoring you because he thinks you might cause trouble."

Kevin lowered his hands to his nose and looked at the counter, where the Japanese owner was squinting at him with two fingers pointing at his eyes. Sighing again, Kevin grabbed his guitar and began

accompanying the loud songs of the many drunken guests. As time passed, Kevin's expression became more mechanical, and it seemed he had given up on musical quality, reducing the amp volume and repeating only simple accompaniments.

As midnight approached and more than half of the packed guests had left, the number of singing guests decreased, and Kevin, taking a break, looked down at the floor blankly before lifting his head to drink water. That's when he saw another guest climbing onto the stage, making his eyes widen.

"A Mickey Mouse T-shirt? What, you followed me here? Are you a stalker?"

Tyler, seeing Geon climb onto the stage, immediately rose from his waiting chair and asked with a friendly smile,

"Oh, are you here to sing, sir? What song would you like us to play?"

Geon smiled and pulled out a $100 bill from his wallet, offering it to Tyler, whose eyes widened. Geon waved the bill and said,

"I'll give you this if you let me play the guitar. I won't sing."

>

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