Devil’s Music

This morning I'm in a great mood. Kiska, who has been content with just hearing my voice for six months, is coming today.

I usually don't wake up until around 10 AM, but today I got up at 8 AM. I started the morning by measuring my height against the marks on the living room wall and was happy to find I've grown a bit taller—now 156 cm. I took a careful shower to make sure I wouldn’t smell bad in front of Kiska, and even used a peach-scented shower gel.

Kiska dislikes strong perfume, so I plan to only smell like shampoo.

I'm sitting on my bed, fidgeting my feet and just watching the clock. It's a ninety-minute drive from our home to Tbilisi International Airport.

Kiska is supposed to arrive at 3 PM. It's only noon now. I still have over an hour before we need to leave for the airport, but I'm already fully dressed, shoes and all.

The clothes I bought yesterday with dad have become too small, and I don’t really like them.

How would I look in a pink t-shirt and short tennis shorts? Would he like my lively look? Would it be cuter if I braided my hair, or should I leave it long and loose? I’m so worried about it that I can’t do anything else.

I’ve already changed my clothes three times. Dad and I spent over three hours shopping yesterday. We bought more than twenty outfits, but I don't like any of them—it's frustrating.

I want to look pretty for Kiska, but I'm afraid I won't be able to.

“Kiska, what's wrong? You were so happy yesterday, running around.”

I puff my cheeks while pulling at my pink Adidas t-shirt, looking back at dad. Gregory laughs as he enters the room.

“I guess there's nothing we can do, no one knew our girl would grow up so fast. We’ll buy you pretty clothes when we return to the U.S., just hang in there. And you’re cute and pretty even now.”

Kiska looks down at her white thighs showing below her white tennis shorts, then looks up at Gregory with dissatisfaction in her eyes.

“I like skirts better.”

“Haha, you didn’t pick any even though you practically turned the store upside down. There's nothing pretty, you say.”

“What can I do if there's nothing pretty?”

“Well, we'll buy a lot when we go to the U.S.”

“It’s too late if we wait until we go to the U.S.!”

“Why, what’s late?”

“I don’t know!!”

Kiska dashes out of the room. She opens the door of her grandmother’s two-story house and runs out, heading down the hill to a cliff with a rock at its edge.

Sitting huddled on the rock at the cliff’s edge with a cool breeze blowing, the girl buries her face in her knees, tears glistening in her eyes. Hearing a strange sound, she looks up.

Furuk, furuk.

A brown horse is poking its head out in front of Kiska. Like ownerless cows roaming the streets in Nepal, wild horses were common in this part of Georgia.

People didn't harm the horses, and the horses didn’t fear people, living together peacefully. Kiska reaches out and pets the horse’s head, and the horse, seeming pleased, snorts and comes closer. Kiska, having no other option right now, wants to believe even the horse’s nod.

“What do you think of my outfit today?”

The horse snorts and nods its head.

“Pretty?”

Horses rarely shake their heads; Kiska knows they usually nod and snort. Still, she wants to believe the nod.

“Thanks, hehe.”

After petting the horse for a while, Kiska checks the time on her White Falcon watch, then rushes back home. She bursts into Gregory’s room where he is still dressing.

“Dad! Let’s go!”

“Oh, there’s still about 30 minutes. Let’s go slowly, there’s nothing but waiting anyway.”

“No! What if Kiska’s plane arrives a bit early?”

“Even if the plane arrives early, it would be by a minute or two.”

“But still no! Let’s go quickly!”

Kiska grabs Gregory’s arm, still threading through his pants, and pulls him. Gregory yells as he's dragged.

“Oh, dad’s going to fall! Okay, okay, don’t pull, I’ll be ready soon.”

Only then does Kiska let go of his arm. She sits on the bed in Gregory’s room, watching him get ready. Gregory quickly puts on his clothes, smiling bitterly.

Now grown so much, holding her hand feels like holding a grown lady’s hand. Gregory, taking his grown-up daughter

by the hand, waves to his mother standing in front of the house.

“Mother, we’ll be back soon. Won’t be long.”

Kiska also shouts from the passenger seat after rolling down the window.

“Grandma, we’ll be right back!”

As the car starts, the grandmother sits down on the chair by the house door with a content smile.

“What’s there to be so happy about? Hoho.”

Hours later, at the airport in Georgia, Geon has his face well-covered. Fortunately, the staff at the departure gate doesn’t watch TV, as they don’t make a fuss even after seeing Geon’s passport, allowing him to exit the airport quietly. As Geon steps out of the arrivals gate automatic doors, he thinks.

“Gregory said he’d come to pick me up…”

Looking around, Geon sees Gregory walking towards him from a distance, with a woman pulling him eagerly.

“Ah, that’s Gregory. But who’s that with him?”

The woman urging Gregory to hurry lifts her head.

Long platinum-blond hair had covered her face, but she brushes it behind her ear, revealing her face.

“Ki, Ki, Kiska?”

Seeing her face, Geon is startled and takes a closer look at Kiska. Long, healthy legs, a bit thick but looking robust.

Thanks to tight tennis pants, Kiska’s already good proportions make her legs appear even longer. There was no curve where Kiska’s waist and hips met, the line was slender.

Tucked inside the pink t-shirt, her upper body couldn’t yet be called adult, but at nearly 160 cm, Kiska’s body was close to an adult’s.

Geon stood there with his mouth open, looking dazed, but fortunately, his sunglasses and mask hid his expression.

Noticing Geon standing still from afar, Kiska stops dragging her father.

The two stood apart, not obstructed by the passing people between them.

In Kiska’s eyes, the passersby were invisible. Only the man covered with a hat and sunglasses filled her vision.

Though his expression was unreadable, it was clear he was looking at her. Kiska wanted to run to him and hug him, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Seeing the tears start to form in Kiska’s eyes, Gregory gently places his hand on her shoulder and points at Geon.

“He’s been waiting a lot, hasn’t he? Go say hi.”

Even with her father’s encouragement, Kiska’s legs remain still. Eventually, Gregory steps forward and extends his hand to Geon.

“It’s been a while, about six months?”

“Ah, Gregory. Yes, that’s right. How have you been?”

“Haha, I’m just happy to be back home. Go on, greet Kiska.”

“Yes, but Kiska has grown so much, hasn’t she?”

“Haha, even I’m surprised every time I see her. Just this morning, we measured her height, and she was already 156 cm. Haha.”

“That’s... that’s really something. Six months isn’t that long...”

“Haha, Kiska must be waiting, go on.”

Geon approaches the now-stationary Kiska. Looking down at her, now too big to hug like before, Geon awkwardly says.

“Ki, Kiska. Have you been well?”

Seeing the changed reaction from Geon, Kiska’s face falls. Gregory, watching from the side, clears his throat and turns away.

“Ahem, I think I’ll go get a coffee downtown while I’m here. You two chat for a bit.”

After Gregory leaves, the two stand looking at each other for a long while without speaking. With teary eyes, Kiska raises her arms.

“Won’t you hug me?”

Her once tiny, fern-like hands have grown, and now when she hugs Geon, she can wrap her arms around his back.

Geon, feeling awkward, shifts his hips back and hugs her.

Feeling his half-hearted embrace, Kiska’s tears begin to flow.

“Sob, sob, is it because I'm not pretty?”

“Uh?”

“Is it because my clothes aren’t pretty? Sob.”

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

“Sob, really?”

Geon touches Kiska’s face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. Looking down at her outfit—a pink t-shirt and white shorts paired with black Adidas Gazelle sneakers—he strokes her hair and says.

“You’re pretty.”

Kiska, unable to even think about stopping the tears that are flowing like a flood, says.

“Sob, sob, really?”

“Yes, pretty. The prettiest in the world.”

“Sob, then hug me again.”

Looking up at Geon, begging with her words, Geon smiles warmly and opens his arms.

“Come here, let’s hug.”

“Waaaah!!!”

Kiska throws herself into Geon’s arms, crying, and people passing

by glance at them.

But soon, seeing the man patting the woman’s back in comfort, they move on, thinking, ‘They must be lovers in a long-distance relationship, parting ways.’

After over ten minutes of listening to Kiska’s crying, Geon finally touches her face, which has calmed down a bit.

“Our Kiska has really grown up. It's almost awkward for me.”

Kiska, still sobbing but much calmer, continues to hold onto Geon as she looks up at his face.

“Am I pretty?”

“Yes, pretty.”

“Prettier than Suzuka?”

“Yes, much.”

“Hehe.”

“Laughing after crying is a big deal.”

With her tear-streaked face breaking into a smile, Kiska’s expression turns stern.

“Don’t play with Byung-jun! Only Byung-jun says such things!”

“Haha, who’s Byung-jun, Kiska. It’s fine to use American names, but it sounds funny when you use Korean names like that, haha.”

Kiska, with wide eyes, asks.

“So what should I call him?”

“Byung-jun oppa.”

“Oh... oppa? What’s that?”

“It’s what you call an older man.”

“Do they like being called that?”

“Yes, men like it.”

“K too?”

“I like it better than just being called by name.”

“Uh... I see.”

As they continue their conversation, Gregory returns, and thanks to Kiska calling him "oppa" in the car, Geon nearly falls out of the car laughing.

>

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