Devil’s Music

Gamagin removed his sunglasses and looked at Amdusias, who shuddered slightly as their eyes met. After observing him for a moment, Gamagin asked, "Is it settled? Why?"

Trembling under Gamagin's intense gaze, Amdusias was quiet until Pyemon spoke up, "Lord Gamagin, even if he's a high-ranking demon, this one barely made it onto the list of the 72 demons. How could you expect him to answer that?"

Gamagin put his sunglasses back on and nodded, "Ah, my apologies. Go on, speak."

Once Gamagin's eyes were covered, Amdusias regained some composure and said with a still trembling voice, "Throughout human history, less than ten musicians have been able to channel up to four emotions in their music. The moment they infuse their music with a fifth emotion, it has the power to move humans."

Gamagin twitched an eyebrow, "Move? What do you mean?"

"Just as it sounds," Amdusias continued, "The music can manipulate humans as the composer intends. It could incite wars, prevent them, make someone fall in love, or even hate. In extreme cases, it can command humans to kill each other."

Pyemon shrugged and whistled, "Close to becoming a demon or an angel, then?"

Amdusias nodded gravely, "It elevates them to the status of a demi-god. That's why both demons and angels see them as a threat. They introduce variables into the ongoing affairs of the human realm."

Gamagin crossed his arms, still seated, "Variables... So, the angels around this child must also be aware of this."

After noticing Gamagin's attentiveness, Amdusias nodded quietly, and Pyemon smirked, "Let them try, we won't sit idly by either."

Amdusias looked frustrated, "It's not the angels that are the problem. What about the highest-ranking demons? What if those above you, Lord Gamagin, start to act?"

Pyemon's face turned serious, "Hmm... Baal, Agares, and Vassago are the problematic trio..."

Gamagin shook his head, "Baal is fine; he's not one to do things behind the scenes. Agares just needs to be stopped from implanting immoral thoughts and manipulating the child to his will. Vassago is mild-mannered, if anything, he'd come to me first to discuss matters. The real issue might be Kushion."

Pyemon clenched his fist, grimacing, "That monkey bastard! I'll handle him."

"Don't be careless; he might be lower in the ranks, but that's only in terms of power, not cunning. You never know what he might pull."

"Ha, but he's also quite forgetful," Pyemon chuckled, "If deception and distraction don't work, we'll overpower him."

As they continued their discussion, Amdusias spoke up, "What will you do about the angels?"

Gamagin removed his sunglasses and looked up at the clear sky, where winter clouds drifted by. He murmured softly, "I guess I'll have to negotiate with Michael."

"So, it's just about reaching an agreement with Michael?"

Pyemon patted a still skeptical Amdusias on the back and laughed, "Are those guys even demons? Unlike the disobedient demon brats, if Michael agrees, that's the end of it. So let's worry after they disagree. Look!"

Pyemon's remark drew all three demons' attention to the stadium. The crowd, packed into the stadium, rose in unison, creating waves of red and white.

"Goal!!!!!!!!!"

Alexis Sanchez, having sprinted to the right corner of the goal, leaped up, one hand raised in the air, roaring in triumph.

"Wowowow!!! I did it!!"

Sanchez cheered, jumping into the crowd, which screamed with joy.

"I knew he could do it! I believed in Sanchez!"

"You're our hero!!"

"The best, simply the best!!!"

As the score tied at 2:2, the onlooking Geon raised his arms in elation.

"Yeah!!!! That's it!!"

Only when they drew did Geon, caught in a headlock by Kevin, start laughing.

"You monster!! What even are you!"

Shizuka also cheered joyfully, "We're even now!"

Kevin high-fived Shizuka, adding, "It's just the first leg, and the next one is at Barcelona's home ground, so it'll be tough, but tying with FC Barcelona means Arsenal is ready to soar higher!"

Caught in the headlock, Geon smiled, "There's still time, about 11 minutes left."

"Huh? Are you saying Arsenal might even win?"

"Hehe, well, who knows? But it's too early to call

 it a draw."

"You greedy thing! This is already incredible!"

"Ha, let's see."

An excited Byung-jun threw his empty beer cup to the ground, shouting, "My treat! Bring more beer!"

Byung-jun, already flushed from four beers, laughed as he saw the crowd jumping excitedly in the stands.

"Hyung, how much would it cost to buy beer for 60,000 people?"

"What?"

Byung-jun, startled, reflexively did the math.

"Beer at 8 pounds a cup… that's about 10 dollars and 34 cents in US dollars… times 60,000… about 624,000 dollars? In Korean won, that would be about 700 million. Wow, that's a lot."

Shizuka looked at Geon nervously, "You're not thinking of spending 700 million won on beer, are you?"

Kevin also looked at Geon in shock, but Geon just smiled, "What I've gained from this game is worth more than 700 million won. Please, Brother Byung-jun."

Byung-jun, perhaps spurred by the alcohol, stood up spiritedly, "Why not? When else will I get a chance to buy drinks for 60,000 people? Okay, then I'll take care of it. Wait here!"

He strode off toward the stadium's snack bars, greeted by a female attendant who wasn't unfamiliar with Asian faces.

"Hello, may I help you?"

Byung-jun looked around and asked, "Is the manager here by any chance?"

The sudden request for a manager made the female attendant uneasy. Often, employees came to complain about issues with sales in the stadium.

"Um... may I ask why you're looking for them?"

"Oh, I'm just here to buy some beer."

"Oh? You can just order beer here."

Byung-jun pulled out a black check card issued to executive-level employees at Fantagio. Unlike a regular credit card with a limit, this card allowed unlimited payments up to the amount it contained. Holding the card, Byung-jun grinned.

"60,000 cups of beer, please?"

The attendant, initially puzzled by his request, hesitated before asking, "Um... 60 cups?"

"No, 60,000 cups."

"What?????"

As Byung-jun laid the black card down in front of her, the attendant backed away, stammering.

"I, I'll get the manager!"

A flustered manager came running out barefoot, and Byung-jun chuckled as he paid 700 million won in one go.

'Never thought I'd see the day I'd swipe 700 million won all at once, haha, feels great.'

After the payment, Byung-jun carried a bundle of food the manager had packed as a courtesy down the corridor.

"Wowowowowow!!!!!!!"

Hearing the stadium roar as if it might collapse, Byung-jun quickened his pace. He ran to the entrance of the stadium, dropping the food he was carrying when he saw the scoreboard.

"Did they, did they actually come from behind?"

His eyes caught Mertesacker lying in front of FC Barcelona's goal, with Arsenal FC players piling on top of him. Fans near the entrance were going wild.

"See that? Did you just see that?"

"Yeah!! That's our captain!"

"Overlapping in injury time! Who would have thought the last defender, Mertesacker, would come up for a header! We won, we really beat FC Barcelona!!"

As fireworks shot up in the stadium, with no more than 20 seconds left, it was clear that Arsenal had secured a comeback victory. Ecstatic fans shook with tears streaming down their faces as they hugged each other tightly, shouting Arsenal's chant at the top of their lungs.

We love you Arsenal, we do?!

We love you Arsenal, we do!

We love you Arsenal, we do!

Oh Arsenal, we love you!

As the final goal was scored, Shizuka, who had thrown her arms around Geon unknowingly, was teary-eyed. Geon, startled at first by her embrace, soon began patting her back to console her. A fan who couldn't calm down pointed at the big screen above the stadium.

"Wow!! Look at that!!"

The crowd's attention gathered on the words displayed on the giant scoreboard.

'Kay is treating! A beer for everyone in the audience!'

"Ahahahahah!!!!! Finally, I get to taste a beer paid for by Kay!"

"Wow, buying beer for 60,000 people, how much would that even cost?"

"Almost half a million pounds, right?"

"Wow! That's more than my salary for ten years, amazing, so generous!"

"Wow, I'm so happy, I could go crazy! Drink up! Pour it out!"

As the whistle for the restart of the game blew, the Barcelona players, seemingly giving

 up on the game, kicked the ball from the center circle straight to Arsenal's goal.

As Petr Cech, wearing headgear, caught the ball, the whistle for the end of the game blew, and the stadium turned into a veritable festival.

"Yaaaay!!!!! We won!!"

"We really beat Barcelona? Can you believe it?"

"Amazing! Amazing! To think I'd live to see such a game!"

"Nobody's going home tonight! Everyone, come to my place! It's on me!"

As Arsenal players lined up and waved to the audience, tears started streaming down their faces, starting with the hero of the last goal, Mertesacker.

The fans, responding to their greetings, began to stand and applaud, and soon even the Barcelona fans joined in.

Turning to the always supportive fans, Mertesacker clenched his fist and raised his hand high in the air.

"Thank you! Thank you! We love you!"

The game had ended, but not a single spectator had left their seat. The players, still unable to calm their excitement, continued to wave and greet the fans.

About fifty staff members were busily handing out the beers bought by Geon, but with an audience of 60,000, it was clear that more time was needed to distribute one to each spectator.

Although there were only slightly more than a few hundred fans, the record-breaking sales by the Arsenal club meant a beer for everyone in attendance.

The first few who received their beers could have started drinking, but they waited until everyone had one. Occasionally, middle-aged men would take a sip first, but under the watchful eyes of those around them, they quietly put their beers down. Finally, when everyone had a beer, the stadium's big screen lit up with new text.

"Beer is on Kay, and the hot dogs are on Arsenal!"

At the sight of these words on the screen, the stadium erupted with an even louder cheer than when there had been a turnaround during the game.

Employees rushed out again, frantically distributing hot dogs wrapped in paper. Even the players in the middle of the field waving at the audience were handed beers and hot dogs.

Though it was right after the game, the players who didn't drink beer but bit into their hot dogs climbed up to the audience seats near the corner and pumped their fists, prompting the audience to cheer again.

Arsène Wenger, watching a staff member hand over food and then walk away, stared thoughtfully at the food in his hands.

"What was different? The strategy, the tactics, even the players were the same in both halves. What changed us?"

Arsène Wenger lifted his gaze to the audience. Slowly turning around to face the audience fully once more, he stopped at a certain point.

His eyes caught sight of Geon cheering with Seizuka and Kevin. Wenger looked at Geon thoughtfully.

"Music, the very thing I once scorned, asking what could be achieved with it. It moved the hearts of the spectators, and that will transformed into willpower, reaching our players and me. This is the power of music…"

Wenger's legs moved. Holding a beer and a hot dog in his hands, he walked toward the VIP section as the audience stood up to give him a standing ovation, but his eyes were fixed only on Geon.

As Wenger approached the advertising panel guarded by a ball boy, the boy hesitated but then stepped aside.

Wenger sat down across from where Geon was seated. A beautiful young man with an otherworldly appearance looked up and smiled at him. Wenger slightly smiled back and extended a beer to him.

"Cheers."

Geon stood up, clinking his beer loudly against Wenger's.

"Congratulations, Coach!"

Their beer glasses clashed, and foam scattered on the floor. Reporters, as if they had been waiting, captured the moment of their toast, and in the flurry of flashing lights, Arsène Wenger, as if no one else was around, quietly said,

"The power of music. This is indeed the power of the music created by a musician named Kay. I acknowledge and thank you."

Kevin, who was watching Geon and Wenger, offered his glass for a toast, but Wenger had already turned away. Watching Wenger disappear, a broad smile hung on Geon's lips.

At the top of the stadium in the VIP room.

Alisher Usmanov, with his fist clenched, poured champagne into his glass until it overflowed and laughed heartily.

"Ha ha ha! See that? Did you see?"

Stan Kroenke, who seemed relaxed and sprawled on the sofa, took the champagne glass Usmanov handed him and raised it.

"This time, you've won, I admit."

"Ha ha ha, the board may not acknowledge it, but the results are good, so no more pressure, right?"

Stan Kroenke chuckled and took a sip of champagne.

"If anyone applies pressure, I'll deal with them this time."

"Good."

"By the way, collecting gold? Got some good intel?"

Stan Kroenke's casual remark made Alisher Usmanov visibly stiffen.

"Uh… that, it's for investment purposes…"

Stan Kroenke tilted his head, sniffing out the hint of money.

"Haven't heard that gold prices are rising. Did you get info about a war or something?"

Usmanov hesitated, then spoke.

"Ah… no, it's not that, but since it's you… You haven't exactly amassed your fortune by being saintly, have you?"

Stan Kroenke pursed his lips, holding the glass.

"Is there such a thing as a good rich man? Well, if you spend money nicely, maybe. But that's something for those who make a modest living, not for us, the top 1% of the wealthy."

Usmanov looked around and then spoke up.

"That's… well, you might want to start

 accumulating some gold too… because, you know… ah!!!"

Usmanov, checking to see if anyone was listening, had just started to speak when he froze, seeing someone staring at him from atop the stadium roof. Stan Kroenke, noticing Usmanov's reaction, looked outside. Seeing nothing unusual among the still partying crowd, he turned his gaze back to Usmanov.

"What's the matter?"

Usmanov backed away, his face breaking into a cold sweat as he noticed Pyemon on the roof opposite, staring right at him.

The beautiful but cold and deep eyes of the blond youth seemed like a predatory beast right in front of him.

Although it was too far to see the face clearly, Usmanov, realizing that he was being watched, stumbled backward. The champagne glass in his hand shattered, soaking the floor, as the security guards burst through the door.

"What's the matter?"

The security guard helped Usmanov up and spoke into his radio.

"We need cleanup here. Are you alright, Mr. Alisher Usmanov?"

Usmanov, supported by the guard but still staring outside, stuttered.

"I'm, I'm fine."

Stan Kroenke frowned, rising from his seat.

"What's wrong with you? What are you scared of? There are thirty bodyguards right outside this VIP room door. Even if the mafia came storming in, we have the manpower to dodge them. What are you afraid of?"

Usmanov, with a haunted look, fixed his gaze outside and said in a trembling voice.

"There's nothing."

Stan Kroenke scowled.

"What do you mean, there's nothing?"

Usmanov, shrugging off the supporting guard, shouted.

"They can't protect me! Not even a thousand of these guards can protect me from that person!"

"Come on, Alisher! Who is this person? Get a hold of yourself and talk!"

"Let me go! I'm going home!"

Usmanov stumbled twice as he left the room and then disappeared. Stan Kroenke, left alone, gave an incredulous look toward the roof Usmanov had been watching.

As evening approached and the lights brightened, there was nothing unusual on the roof. Kroenke scowled.

 *

Not far from Arsenal's home stadium, in the Premier Inn London Angel Islington hotel suite.

Lynn sat alone in a huge room with white wallpaper and marble floors, listening to the cheers from Emirates Stadium.

She scratched the armrest of the sofa with her long nails, her expression suddenly changing. She turned her head to look at the darkened room and spoke.

"Did you bring the message from Michael, Remiel?"

In the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes appeared. The lights flickered off and on as if the eyes were blinking.

"He has not yet decided, Uriel."

Uriel, as Lynn was referred to, smiled.

"It's been a while since I've been called by that name."

The eyes scanned her body up and down.

"For a human, you have a beautiful body. How long have you been in this child's body?"

Lynn looked down at her body, then pulled out a wallet from her bag and extracted an old photograph. It was a color photo of an Asian woman holding a little girl. Lynn caressed the woman in the photo and spoke.

"It was when the child was ten years old. Right after Gamagin approached a child named Geon, I entered at Michael's command. I've been waiting in this body ever since, and it seems I'll need to stay a bit longer to return to an angel's body."

As the darkness fell silent, Lynn put the photo aside and asked.

"Where is Remiel's body?"

"In a home in the United States, sleeping."

"I see. You haven't been in that body for long, have you?"

"That's right, about five years."

"What is Michael pondering?"

The glowing eyes in the darkness slightly wavered. Seeing this, Lynn gently smiled.

"It seems Remiel also has a fondness for children, so he must be worried about the child."

The pair of eyes closed quietly.

"I convey Michael's message."

Lynn rose from her seat, knelt on the floor, and bowed her head. The eyes opened, emitting a burst of white light, filling the large suite with a booming voice.

"Watch over Kushion and protect the child."

Lynn's head bowed even lower.

"I have received the message of Michael, the right hand of the one who oversees the world. Everything will be as He wills."

As the resounding voice faded, Lynn raised her head and looked at the still-dark eyes.

"The time to meet the last child is near. Are you prepared?"

The eyes in the darkness smiled.

"I am prepared without any hindrance."

Lynn stood up and looked out at Emirates Stadium from the window.

"Kiska, Seizuka, Kevin, and the last child to meet…

 Once that's completed, Kushion will notice. We must be ready for that time."

Lynn and the eyes in the darkness nodded at each other.