As Geon entered Elvis's dressing room, his eyes widened at the sight of the room filled with gifts and a table brimming with food.
"Wow... It looks so delicious."
Elvis handed Geon a large slice of apple pie baked by a fan.
"Haha, seems like I'm still popular, huh? Have a bite. And grab some orange juice if you're thirsty," Elvis said, echoing his mother's manners as he offered the pie.
"Thank you. Hyung," Geon replied with a respectful nod, following his mother's taught etiquette.
Elvis chuckled at Geon's courteousness and watched as Geon enthusiastically devoured the apple pie, asking between bites, "This... This is really delicious. I should ask my mom to make this. Wow."
Elvis laughed at Geon's eagerness, disappearing the pie as if by magic. "Hey now, don't just eat like that. Have some juice with it. By the way, where do you live? And why haven't you grown at all? Are you sick or something? How can you not have grown even an inch since four years ago?"
Geon pushed a piece of pie into his mouth and waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's just a dream, anyway. I'll grow again when I wake up. My mom says my calves are longer than others my age, so I'll end up taller than you, hyung."
Elvis widened his eyes at Geon's words. "A dream? What do you mean, a dream? Haha, you think meeting me feels like a dream? Well, considering I was a poor truck driver four years ago and now I'm this popular singer, you probably didn't think you'd see me again. Haha."
Geon gave up explaining, realizing it was easier to stuff pies than to explain this place as a dream world.
Elvis, more interested in the pie than anything else, chuckled at Geon's fascination with it.
At that moment, the dressing room door burst open, and a blond man in his thirties rushed in. He was the photographer Geon had seen when he first arrived.
With a bewildered look, he shouted at Elvis and Geon, "Hey, Elvis! What if you stop the performance halfway? Do you know what day it is? Even the family of the Army Chief of Staff is here. What are you doing, running off the stage without any explanation?"
Elvis, lounging deeply on the leather sofa, chuckled and replied, "Hey, William. Weren't you supposed to just take photos for my album cover? If it were Sam, it might be different, but you don't need to become a nagging presence."
The man, referred to as William, sat on the opposite sofa with a puzzled expression. "Elvis, if I were Sam, I'd have dragged you back on stage by now. It's not like you won the CEO seat at Sun Records by playing poker."
Picking up a cigarette from the table and then noticing Geon eating pie, William put the cigarette back down. "Who's this kid? Rumors are going around that you're hiding your child under the stage."
Elvis, sitting up on the sofa, laughed and said, "William, remember that kid I mentioned?"
Twirling his cigarette case with his fingers, William said, "How could I forget? Don't you always blabber about our Geon whenever you're drunk? If it weren't for that kid, there wouldn't be you now. I thought 'Gun' was a new gun model because of its name."
Elvis playfully pointed at Geon. "This is that kid I was talking about, Kim Geon."
William was taken aback. William V. Robertson, a famous photographer, had become good friends with Elvis after meeting him at Sam Phillips' request to create Elvis's album cover a year ago. He couldn't forget the name Geon, which was often mentioned in the numerous drinking sessions he had with Elvis. If it weren't for that kid, Elvis wouldn't be where he was now. The child who had casually provided comfort at a crucial time, whose words of encouragement were nothing significant but had offered a revelation when Elvis was drunk and wished he could meet that kid again before falling asleep.
Without caring about the apple pie crumbs on Geon's hands, William held Geon's slender hand firmly with both of his.
"So, you're Geon. Nice to meet you. I'm Elvis's friend, William."
Geon, unfamiliar with such Eastern greetings, politely responded, "Hello, sir. I'm Geon Kim."
"Well, well. Just as I heard, a very polite and adorable kid," William thought, considering it was just a customary greeting from a young child.
"Yeah, yeah. Just as I heard. An adorable kid indeed. I've always wanted to thank the most cherished friend in my life for giving me courage," William expressed.
Geon didn't understand what William meant. All he did was exchange a few words with Elvis. Seeing Geon's confusion, Elvis grinned.
"Right, Geon. My little but big friend. Is there anything you want from me? Autographs, a song, anything."
Geon pondered for a moment. Since this was a dream anyway, material desires might vanish when he woke up, so he dismissed any materialistic wishes. After much contemplation, Geon finally made up his mind.
"Um... I want to be good at singing."