During the time when Kamageen and Pyemon bestowed blessings in reality, Geon found himself drifting lazily within a dream sequence. He stood in front of a gray brick building in Tennessee in 1953.
Amidst his wandering gaze, Geon noticed a tall, fair-haired foreign young man, strumming a guitar on his back, looking rather uneasy.
Approaching the tense-looking youth, Geon asked, "Mister, what are you doing here? This feels like a dream to me; I've never seen you before in my life."
The fair-haired youth, usually fond of kids but appearing uneasy for some reason, glanced at Geon and replied, "I'm a truck driver. Not much to boast about, barely making ends meet..."
Geon's eyes sparkled as he responded, "A truck driver! Wow, that's impressive. I'd love to drive a big vehicle someday."
With a bitter chuckle, the youth shook his head. "That might not be as great as it seems, young lad. Driving a big vehicle doesn't erase the poverty it often carries."
Geon, with curiosity, mentioned his father being a truck driver who, despite not earning a lot, managed to provide a happy life for the family. He questioned the youth if that wasn't true for him.
Ruffling Geon's hair, the youth chuckled, "It's not always about money, you know. I came here to record an album with the money I've saved over time as a gift for my mother."
Surprised, Geon exclaimed, "Wow, you're good at singing, sir? I'd love to gift my mom a song sung by me. I bet she'd prefer it more than an expensive gift from a department store."
Grinning, the youth replied, "Yeah, exactly. It's not about the expensive presents. It's about being recognized by those I care about, not the music industry. Thanks, kid. By the way, what's your name?"
Geon, smiling confidently, said, "I'm Geon, Geon Kim, sir."
Opening the gray brick building's door, the youth gestured, "Alright, Geon. If we meet again in town, I'll take you to the best hotdog joint around. Thanks for today."
As the youth entered the building, Geon called out, "Mister! What's your name?"
Without looking back, the youth replied, "Elvis. My mom named me Elvis Presley, kid."
As Geon heard the youth's name and watched him enter the building, he was stunned. "The guy singing the music my mom used to listen to was this young man? But... my mom said he had passed away... Was that just a dream?"
Suddenly, the air around Geon swirled, and the countryside buildings in Tennessee's outskirts distorted.
Geon stood, observing the rapidly changing urban environment. Old, crumbling buildings were replaced, streets transformed from dirt and dust to asphalt, cowboys vanished, replaced by cars.
Despite closing his eyes, the dizziness persisted. Clenching his fists, he waited for the vertigo to fade.
After a while, a refreshing breeze calmed him. Geon reopened his eyes.
He found himself in a military base in Tampa, Florida, in 1957.
A man with a manual camera was incessantly taking pictures. Geon cautiously approached, looking in the camera's direction.
Amidst a joyous gathering of soldiers, families, and lovers, there stood a young man on stage, wielding a large folk guitar, singing passionately in loose trousers and a loose shirt with sweat glistening.
Geon, inexplicably drawn, moved closer, making eye contact with the young man.
Startled, the young man abruptly stopped singing, leaped off the stage, and rushed towards Geon, lifting him up excitedly. "Geon! It's you, right? Haha, I couldn't find you then, but here you are!"
Perplexed, Geon tilted his head. "Um... I'm sorry, sir. I don't really know you... Who are you?"
Chuckling softly, the young man said, "Oh, is it because my hair's turned black? Don't you remember? I'm Elvis, the one you met in front of the Tennessee record company four years ago, Geon."
Only then, with a bewildered gaze, did Geon respond, "Elvis, sir? Four years ago?"
The puzzled Geon was led by Elvis into the waiting room, still unable to fully comprehend.