Devil’s Music

Doctors who saw Elisha's expression were slightly surprised, but merely one photograph was not enough evidence to stop the antidepressant treatment, so they quietly waited for Larry to speak. As Larry projected the photo and stepped next to the podium, he stood in front of it.

"This photo was taken two days ago. Are there any psychiatrists here? Could you raise your hand?"

When six doctors in the convention hall raised their hands, Larry pointed to one of them and asked.

"Dr. Paul George?"

As the doctor named Paul George stood up, Larry said,

"Have you ever seen a first-grade antidepressant patient smiling this brightly?"

After a moment of thought, Paul George shook his head.

"No, I haven't, sir."

"That's right. Thank you, please sit down."

As Larry walked across the podium, he said,

"You all must be thinking now, 'How can one photo be evidence?' Okay, let's assume it's rare for him to smile, but it's impossible for a person to never smile in their lifetime, so claiming a photo taken at the moment of a smile as evidence is invalid."

As the doctors nodded in agreement, Larry operated the controller, and the display switched back to a CCTV video.

In the video, Elisha was either sleeping on the bed, eating, or doing daily activities, all being fast-forwarded as Director Murphy watched seriously with crossed arms, murmuring,

"Hmm... seems to have improved though..."

The scene changed to Elisha walking on a hospital trail, with Lisa following a few steps behind, seemingly prepared for any sudden incidents. Elisha's face appeared calm as she walked.

Elisha approached Lisa and said something, causing Lisa to laugh and link arms with her as they entered the hospital. The doctors exclaimed upon seeing this.

"Can she communicate with ordinary people now?"

"Are you saying a first-grade antidepressant patient can do this? And that too within a month? Unbelievable! What has happened?"

"Exactly! It doesn't make sense, explain please, Mr. Larry!"

As the doctors clamored, Larry returned to the podium and spoke into the microphone.

"Haven't I explained already, doctors?"

As he said this, the doctors once again erupted into noise.

"What explanation are you talking about?"

Larry shrugged and pointed to the screen.

"All I've done for the past month is check if the patients listened to music on time. Even that was done by the nurses."

As Larry spoke, Director Murphy, who had stood up by now, pointed at the screen and said in a stunned voice,

"Is this... is this all the improvement we've gotten from just playing music for a month? Was there no other medication?"

"There was none. The only medicine Elisha had during the last two weeks were vitamin supplements."

Murphy looked incredulous as he stuttered,

"Are... are there more sample patients?"

Larry smiled and pressed the PPT controller.

"Yes, four patients have completed the sample treatment, and all are showing improvement."

Larry showed videos of Courtney and Mijin as samples. Courtney was shown with a severe aggression tendency, attacking nurses or doctors with a plastic eating utensil, and unable to sleep at night, twitching her head. Now, her current state showed no head twitching, and although she still appeared tense when someone approached, the previously frequent startles were significantly less.

Mijin was shown covering her face and crying all day, and waking up at night to wail. Currently, while still appearing sad, she no longer woke up crying at night, though she occasionally teared up, much less than before.

As the doctors watched in increasing astonishment, Larry spoke.

"Now, the last patient."

As he finished speaking, eight brain MRI images appeared on the screen.

"Barbara Dumas, age 79, suffering from Alzheimer's symptoms for 1 year and 4 months."

Director Murphy turned to the head of the neurology department sitting behind him and asked,

"Why is an Alzheimer's patient in the psychiatric ward? Shouldn't she be in neurology?"

The head of neurology nodded.

"She should be, but Barbara Dumas's memory has deteriorated to such an extent that she couldn't maintain lucidity for even an hour a day, and was moved to the psychiatric ward five months ago."

Murphy turned back and muttered,

"Well... Alzheimer's is a brain disease; music therapy shouldn't work on that."

His muttering changed into a shout of astonishment as Larry continued with a smile.

"I included this patient in the treatment roster hoping that brain diseases might also benefit from music therapy. This was possible because all four patients were in the same room."

Larry explained as the brain MRI appeared on the screen,

"As you all know, Alzheimer's patients suffer from significant cell loss. Barbara Dumas's cortex had shrunk, affecting the areas responsible for thought, planning, and memory."

As he operated the controller, another image appeared.

"The first image you saw was from her first day of

 hospitalization, and this image was taken four months later. As you can see, there's damage to the hippocampus, which handles memory."

Larry manipulated the controller again, and a largely blackened brain image appeared.

"And this was taken just before she was moved from neurology to psychiatry. The ventricles (spaces filled with fluid) had enlarged, severely reducing brain function. At that time, she could only maintain lucidity for about one or two hours a day."

Larry stepped forward at the podium.

"As all the doctors here know, most patients with Alzheimer's experience rapid progression of the disease within two years, often only retaining memories from infancy. If you follow the progression in these images taken every four months, you can see how rapidly her brain function was lost. And this is the MRI of the brain taken two days ago."

As he operated the controller, the image appeared, causing the doctors to murmur among themselves. One of the doctors raised a hand after a brief discussion.

"Um... Mr. Larry, there seems to be a mistake in the PPT. This image looks exactly like the one from four months ago."

Larry smiled as he returned to the podium. After looking around at the doctors, he chuckled and said,

"It's no mistake. This MRI was indeed taken two days ago."

The doctors became noisy.

"What?! You mean to say there was no progression of brain damage in four months?"

"How is that possible? Even if the music therapy showed some progress, the rest of the three months should have shown progression."

"There must have been some error, Mr. Larry?"

As Larry listened quietly to the doctors, he approached the microphone, and the doctors quieted down.

"Radiology Professor Jeremy? Are you here?"

A black professor at the back raised his hand, and Larry spoke,

"This shooting was conducted by Professor Jeremy himself. Professor, please speak."

Jeremy, looking slightly nervous under the focused attention, said,

"It was indeed taken two days ago, and I personally compared it and was so surprised that I went to inform Professor Larry."

Jeremy's confirmation was the final blow. Surprised doctors jumped from their seats, causing chairs to crash noisily.

"Is that really true?"

"If this is true, it's big news for the medical community! We need to report this to the medical association immediately!"

"Absolutely, this could be a groundbreaking discovery, sir!"

Amid the clamorous doctors, a serious-looking Murphy raised a hand.

As the doctors quieted down at Murphy's gesture, Larry beckoned him to speak, and Murphy, with a cautious expression, asked,

"Let's be precise. Are you saying it's treated, or that it stopped progressing?"

Larry glanced at the photos and shook his head.

"It's still uncertain. We haven't had enough time to prove that. However, based on these images, it might be inferred that there's a slight therapeutic effect. The cells that should have been damaged in the past three months without music therapy weren't, and that's the evidence."

Murphy nodded as if agreeing and asked,

"Are there only four sample patients?"

"Yes, that's correct."

Murphy stood up, looked around at the doctors, and said,

"Let's increase the number of sample patients, and all psychiatrists should support Mr. Larry fully. This research isn't just for our hospital but could be a discovery for humanity. The hospital will support all costs related to treatment and research."

Murphy's decision was met with nods from the doctors, but a visibly exhausted Larry caught Murphy's attention.

"Mr. Larry? Is there a problem?"

"Uh... actually, this music is part of Kay's official album and is still an unreleased track. The contract with Fantagio was to provide the track to only four sample patients, so increasing the number of sample patients would breach the contract. We need Fantagio's permission and a renegotiation."

Hearing Larry's words, the doctors shouted.

"Are you talking about album profits now? We have a chance to treat a disease that humanity hasn't conquered!"

"Exactly! Is now the time to think about money?"

"Damn it! This is about saving lives; why should we care about such things?"

As the doctors shouted, Murphy raised his hand to calm them down.

"What are you saying? How bad would the person who kindly provided the music feel if they heard your words? Didn't you hear what Mr. Larry just said? We had to beg to get the music.

How can you, under the guise of medicine, take for granted the unconditional sacrifice of someone unrelated to medicine? I too am a doctor who believes there's nothing more important than life, but that's just our belief. Please refrain from making unreasonable statements."

Once quieted down, some doctors seemed to reflect on their statements, while others still appeared dissatisfied.

Murphy, shaking his head at such individuals, said,

"How can intellectuals think like this... Mr. Larry? So when is that album going to be released?"

"Yes,

 Director. It's scheduled to be released this winter."

"Hmm... that's quite a wait. We can't wait that long. Please arrange a meeting with the Fantagio representatives after the board meeting."

Understanding that meeting the board meant agreeing to pay for the use of the music, Larry answered brightly and energetically,

"Yes, Director!"

At Georgia General Hospital.

After finishing the rounds for the VIP patient Dariya Miochichi, Yuri Glushakov, a seasoned 58-year-old doctor, felt something was off about her condition and immediately ordered a tissue biopsy and MRI for her.

A month had passed since his conversation with Gregory, but her condition, supposedly due to the effects of painkillers, was incomprehensibly severe.

Sitting alone in his office, Yuri waited for her test results, his chin propped on his hand.

"It doesn't make sense. Given the speed of cancer metastasis, Dariya Miochichi should be on death's doorstep, yet she shows such a peaceful smile."

A month ago, knowing her condition was beyond treatment, he had halted all tests and chemotherapy. Since regular testing was also stopped, getting her test results was now urgent.

Putting aside other appointments, Yuri anxiously awaited the results when he heard a knock.

"Come in!"

A young doctor in his thirties entered, carrying a thick envelope of documents.

"Are these the test results?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Alright, let's see."

The young doctor pulled out MRI films from the envelope and attached them to the light. He handed over the rest of the envelope as he had over ten images posted.

"The tissue biopsy results are also included."

Despite the young doctor's words, Yuri, fixated only on the MRI, muttered to himself.

"It was primary renal cancer. Dariya Miochichi had paraneoplastic syndrome (hypertension, hypercalcemia, non-metastatic liver dysfunction, erythrocytosis, etc.) and showed symptoms of metastasis like dyspnea, cough, seizures, headaches, and bone pain. Show me the nurse's chart they've checked."

The young doctor extracted a chart from the envelope and handed it to Yuri, whose eyes widened.

"Huh? Is this properly checked?"

The young doctor nodded seriously.

"All symptoms that could cause the patient distress have been alleviated. I couldn't believe it myself and called the head nurse to check, but it's impossible for nurses working in shifts to all record the same lie, Doctor."

Yuri flipped through another chart and asked.

"How about the liver failure symptoms?"

The young doctor shook his head.

"Just a month ago, she had jaundice and ascites and underwent several forced ascites removals. She couldn't eat for three days due to bleeding from esophageal varices. The last ascites removal was three weeks ago, and the jaundice has disappeared."

Yuri frowned and pointed at the MRI.

"What's going on here? The MRI shows that cancer progression has stopped, but she still has the chart of a seriously ill end-stage cancer patient. Normally, even if the disease's progression temporarily halted, she should be experiencing multiple complications. And in the case of liver cancer, she should be in extreme pain, but she's not feeling such pain, which is strange. Should we report this as a special case to the medical association?"

The young doctor crossed his arms and stared intently at the MRI.

"As you know, the photos show no advancement of the disease. The cancer metastasized areas are the same as a month ago; there's just no further progression. Of course, that's miraculous in itself, but the most baffling part is that she's not feeling any pain."

Yuri set down the chart and looked at the MRI in agreement.

"Yes, end-stage cancer patients should be in so much agony that even amputating an arm wouldn't be noticeable due to the intense pain from metastasized cancer cells. But this is..."

"There's something we don't know. We need to research this, Doctor."

Yuri grimaced and pointed at the patient's basic information.

"Do you know who this patient is?"

"No, but for the advancement of human medicine, we must be willing to make any sacrifice and put her on the research list, Doctor."

"She's the mother of Red Mafia boss Gregory Miochichi. Willing to make any sacrifice? One word from him, and our hospital could disappear from this earth within a day."

The young doctor visibly panicked. The Red Mafia was synonymous with danger globally, but the fear that name instilled was even more tremendous in Russia.

"Re... Red Mafia boss's mother?"

Yuri sighed deeply and rested his hands on his forehead.

"Phew... Yeah. How would we even manage to bribe him to let us research this without immediately getting our heads chopped off?"

The young doctor wiped the sweat from his brow.

"That's unfortunate..."

Yuri looked at the MRI results again and after a long silence, he finally spoke.

"So you're saying she's not getting better? Hmm... let's keep watching a little longer."

"Yes, I'll keep checking every hour and report back."

* * *

At the convention hall in Downtown New York General Hospital.

Byeonjun and Geon were sitting and listening to a report about the therapeutic effects of

 music therapy. As the treatment results were discussed, Byeonjun turned pale and asked.

"So, you're saying music therapy was effective? Really?"

Larry nodded with a smile.

"Yes, as you can see, there's a noticeable improvement. That's why we organized this meeting to discuss potentially increasing the number of sample patients."

Murphy, the director sitting in the front row, stood up in front of Geon and Byeonjun.

"Our board formally requests to renew the confidentiality agreement and pay the royalties for using the sound sources before proceeding with research on more sample patients."

Byeonjun hesitated, weighing the risk of leaks from his unreleased album, when he noticed Geon sitting silently beside him. Catching Geon's gaze, Byeonjun chuckled.

"I know what you're going to say, just stay quiet."

"Brother..."

"I know, kid. But we need to think this through. We have to consider the risks before we act."

Resolved, Geon spoke firmly.

"It doesn't matter if it can't be included in the album because of a leak. Music can be made again, but lives can't be recreated. Not unless you're God."

Byeonjun sighed at Geon's stubbornness.

"Sigh, who can argue with your stubbornness? So, you're okay with not including 'The Song of Water' in the album if it leaks? I'll report that to the company?"

"Yes, please do that, brother."

Byeonjun examined Geon's expression and then bowed his head, pondering for a moment before asking softly.

"Is it because of Kim Mijin, that lady?"

Geon nodded quietly, prompting another sigh from Byeonjun who picked up his phone and stood up to speak to Murphy.

"I'll discuss it with the company since the musician has agreed, and get back to you after making a call. Just give me a moment, please."

Murphy clenched his fist with a bright expression.

"Thank you. I'll wait."

Although not fully authorized yet, the doctors watching them cheered internally.

More than forty doctors waited anxiously outside the convention hall for Byeonjun to return from making the call.

The ticking of the clock sounded unusually loud in the quiet hall as they all, including Geon, waited for Byeonjun with the same expression.

Larry, observing Geon, smiled and said.

"You, a musician, have the heart of a doctor. I truly respect that."

Murphy, hearing Larry's words, nodded vigorously.

"Indeed, I have great respect for you."

Blushing from the praise of the two men, Geon watched the door Byeonjun had exited through.

Soon, the door opened, and all forty heads turned toward it. Byeonjun, feeling the expectant gazes upon him, looked around and finally met Geon's eyes. His head slowly nodded, and a loud cheer erupted in the hall.

"Hooray!!!!!!!!"

"That's the way!!!"

"Ha-ha-ha!! Thank you, thank you!"

Murphy raised his hand as if the conversation wasn't over yet, and the doctors quickly quieted down. Still tense, he asked carefully.

"So... how many more sample patients can we have?"

Byeonjun returned to his seat, placed his phone on the table, and grabbed Geon's shoulder.

"Leave it to Kay."

Murphy turned his head towards Geon and asked.

"Excuse me? What do you mean by 'leave it to him'?"

Byeonjun grinned, looking at Geon's profile.

"All decisions regarding this matter will be delegated to Kay by Fantagio. From now on, any decisions about 'The Song of Water' can be made by consulting with Kay without waiting for an official stance from the company. Kay's will is Fantagio's will."

Hearing Byeonjun's words, the doctors once again erupted into loud cheers, throwing their documents into the air.

"Wow!!!!!!!!"

As the doctors began to stand and applaud, everyone in the hall stood up to applaud Geon.

Sitting quietly, grateful for the company's decision, Geon softly spoke to Byeonjun.

"Is this Director Lin's decision?"

Byeonjun slightly nodded and replied.

"Director Lin discussed this directly with Chairman Wang Hao."

"Thank you, brother."

"Thank Director Lin, not me. Sigh, always getting us into money-losing deals. You're not planning on taking any royalties, are you?"

Geon playfully smiled and tilted his head.

"Hehe? How did you know?"

"Man, Director Lin saw it coming. Do as you wish."

"Ha-ha, that's Director Lin for you."

Murphy, overhearing their conversation, exclaimed in surprise.

"You're not taking royalties? That's not possible. Your music, crafted with so much effort, shouldn't be taken for granted by the medical community. Please accept the royalties."

Byeonjun chuckled and looked at Geon, who stood up and stopped applauding

 to listen to the surprised doctors. Meeting the eyes of each doctor, Geon smiled broadly and said.

"Any royalties should be donated to improve the mental ward environment. Please use it to provide a better treatment environment for the patients."

Murphy was speechless. Larry, too, stared at Geon and Byeonjun, and a hushed silence fell over the hall. An anonymous doctor muttered softly.

"An angel... Is he an angel?"

On the Brooklyn Bridge.

Two men stood looking down at the bustling traffic below. Pyemon, a blond youth in a suit, asked Gamagin, who was consistently dressed in a black suit and sunglasses, a question.

"Is it okay? Humans who are meant to die might not die. Is it okay to disturb the order?"

Hidden behind sunglasses, Gamagin's expression was unreadable as he casually put his hands in his pants pockets and replied.

"It's not that the humans who should die are not dying; their time is just delayed a bit. The song created by the child doesn't cure physical ailments. It merely clears their minds, helps them forget bad memories, and brings up happy ones."

Pyemon pondered for a moment and then pursed his lips.

"The reapers waiting to take souls are getting anxious. Few people are currently researching it, but it's going to spread soon because humans who should die by a certain date aren't dying, and both Heaven and Hell are keeping an eye on this."

"It's okay, they are not immortal. It's just living a couple of months more, and it's not really disturbing the order, so they'll adapt soon enough. And if it were a problem at the level of disturbing the order, Michael would not have allowed it in the first place."

"Hmm... I see."

"What is Gushion doing?"

Pyemon chuckled and said,

"He's panicking, haha."

Gamagin turned his head towards Pyemon.

"Because Heaven is not moving?"

"Yes, neither Heaven nor Hell is moving, so it must be frustrating when a human crosses the limit, but neither side is doing anything."

"Keep watching. If there's any movement, let me know immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Hell.

The eerie castle, drenched in purple, resembled the shape of a bat from the outside. The ornate reception room visible through the bat's eye-like windows was filled with antique purple sofas where Gushion sat slamming his hand on the table.

Bang!!

"What on earth is happening!"

The servants lined up flinched at Gushion's rage. Sweating, they watched their master's face helplessly, shivering without making any other movement. As Gushion stood up abruptly from the bat's eyes, he decided he needed to see Baal.

Gushion's body disappeared in a puff of purple smoke, arriving instantly at Baal's realm. The three-headed lions guarding the river made of blood growled at him.

Gushion glared at them, and his eyes flared with purple fire.

Screech, screech!!!

The lion-like creatures cowered and ran to the corner as Gushion clicked his tongue.

"Where do these pathetic beings show their teeth? If they weren't under Baal's command, I would have annihilated them."

Gushion waited by the riverbank for a moment, and soon a skeletal ferryman rowed a boat out of the fog. Gushion flicked an unidentifiable coin to the ferryman as the boat docked at the riverbank.

Having boarded, Gushion crossed the blood river engulfed in fog into Baal's realm. The distant view of Baal's castle differed from the other demons' castles.

Baal's castle, revered as a god of abundance in ancient Egyptian times, was built in a distinctive Egyptian style with elaborate sculptures decorating its exterior walls and plentiful food scattered all around.

Elephant-like beasts and desert fox-like creatures roamed freely, and Baal's servants lounged around eating.

"This place never feels quite right. How can this be a demon's castle?"

Gushion grumbled as he walked up to the castle entrance, where a pale-faced chief servant with a robust upper body approached him.

The servant bowed slightly as he silently opened the massive castle doors, revealing the gold-laden interior.

From the walls to the furniture, everything was made of gold. In the center of this grand space, a middle-aged man, baring his upper body and wearing golden armor on his lower half, lifted his head. The black man with short hair spoke as he adjusted his hair.

"Gushion? What brings you here all of a sudden?"

Gushion walked towards the center and knelt down, paying his respects.

"O harbinger of demons, I have come to see Baal."

Baal waved his hand as he lay against a woman's white thigh.

"That's enough. What brings you?"

Gushion dared not look directly at him and bowed his head as he spoke.

"There is a human who has surpassed their limits, it seems you are unaware, so I have come."

Baal frowned, and seeing his expression, the women quickly moved away, and Baal's normally abundant castle instantly felt as cold as ice.

Baal's demeanor changed, and Gushion felt the golden floor begin to freeze.

"You come because you think I don't know? Do you think I'm unaware of what you know?

 Are you disrespecting me, Gushion?"

Gushion was shocked and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"No, that's not it!!"

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, get out."

"Ah... Yes, understood."

Gushion, unable to face Baal directly, backed away from the castle while Baal watched him till the end. Baal's expression relaxed, and he gestured to the frightened women standing nearby.

"Come here."

The women crowded around Baal, fanning him and feeding him, and Baal's content expression returned.

As he placed a grape in his mouth and savored the bursting juice, Baal raised his hand, and a muscular servant hurried over and knelt down. After looking down at him for a moment, Baal spoke.

"Tell Gamagin that Gushion has visited, so he must keep his promise."

The servant bowed deeply, touching his forehead to the floor, then disappeared as Baal fondled a woman's thigh and murmured softly.

"Half of Gamagin's power. That's enough to turn a blind eye."

Meanwhile, Gushion, still trembling, searched his pockets and handed another coin to the skeletal ferryman as he boarded the boat launched on the riverbank.

"Something's going on, Baal would not have just let it be. Are Agares and the others the same? Damn, I don't know what's going on."

Having reached the other side of the river, Gushion instantly turned into purple smoke and disappeared, not wanting to stay in Baal's realm for even a second longer.

Soon after, Gushion appeared in his own castle's reception room and sat down, staring at the dark sky of Hell.

"It's possible to prevent their ceremonies with deals among high-ranking demons like Gamagin. But why isn't Heaven moving? Unless Michael has lost his mind, he wouldn't overlook such a situation."

Muttering to himself, Gushion stared at the sky, a cloud-filled space bridging the underworld of Hell with the human world and reaching endlessly into the sky and cosmos. Caliel, sitting on a cloud above, flipped his long blond hair back and laughed.

"Ho-ho, Gushion must be confused."

Next to Caliel, a beautiful young girl looked puzzled.

"Can you see Hell, Lord Caliel?"

Caliel glanced at her and smiled.

"Ho-ho, not clearly, just vaguely. You'll be able to see it soon, Nanael."

Nanael, the dream angel, pouted and crossed her arms.

"I don't know when I'll gain such power, but even if I do, I wouldn't want to look at Hell."

"Ha-ha, it's not a pleasant place."

A worried look crossed Nanael's face.

"Um, Lord Caliel. All angels are just watching the child by Michael's command, but is this really okay?"

Caliel whistled and looked at Nanael.

"Oh, are you doubting Lord Michael? Our Nanael has grown up, hasn't she?"

Nanael flustered, waved her hands.

"No!! That's not what I meant! I'm just worried."

"Ha-ha, it's just a joke, don't be so flustered."

Caliel's words made Nanael feel the sweat on her back as she teased her for a moment before looking down at the clouds again.

"Michael will handle it, Uriel and Remiel are also down there. Don't worry. If you're really concerned, you can go down too."

Nanael thought of Gamagin and Pyemon, who were trying to break the barrier in Jamaica, and shivered.

"I, I don't want to! I might handle Amdusias, but Gamagin and Pyemon are truly terrifying!"

"Ha-ha, then just keep watching."

The two angels looked down at the clouds above Downtown New York Hospital in the early afternoon.

As summer began, the hot sunlight illuminated the area where Geon was walking alone, spotting Nurse Mijin sitting on a bench.

It had been a while since he saw Mijin, who was still not smiling but was now able to have brief conversations with the nurse.

Geon hesitated, wondering if it was okay to approach, when Lisa quietly approached him from afar and spoke.

"I've heard about your situation with Miss Mijin."

Startled by her sudden approach, Geon turned around and said,

"Ah! Hello, Lisa."

"Hello, Kay. I'm so happy to see you so often these days. It's also joyful to see the sick improving thanks to you."

"Ha-ha, all I did was make music; the credit goes to the medical staff who directly help the sick."

Lisa smiled at Geon's modesty then glanced at Mijin sitting in the distance.

"Go talk to her."

Ge

on looked hesitant and asked,

"Is that okay?"

"It might be difficult to have a deep conversation, but she's capable of simple communication."

"Really?"

"Yes, she even greeted me first this morning."

"Oh... I see."

Lisa pushed Geon's back, urging him,

"Come on, you've been waiting for a long time. Go and at least say hello, go on."

As Lisa pushed him forward, Geon approached Mijin, and the nurse who was sitting next to her stood up behind Mijin.

Sitting on the bench, Mijin lifted her head and met Geon's eyes. After a moment of looking at her, Geon awkwardly said,

"Hello, Miss Mijin."

Mijin's expression was impassive as she examined Geon's face. After staring intently at his face for a while, a barely noticeable smile spread across Mijin's face.