An AI Society
“My daughter, she cannot speak.”
This was what Altani had said to Dojin as they watched Shan-hun carrying Sun-jam on his shoulders, showing her around a Korean highway rest stop.
“I see... You must have been very worried, Altani.”
It was a sudden confession, but Dojin wasn't particularly surprised.
In truth, he had already suspected as much.
She did seem a bit unusual whenever we did video calls.
Although Dojin had been quarantined in a single room and Shan-hun's family in a family suite, they had video called each other every single day.
Feeling responsible for Dojin's quarantine, Shan-hun had made it a point to call and check on him daily.
Dojin had found it a bit overwhelming at first, but as the quarantine dragged on, it simply became part of his daily routine.
Through those calls, he had naturally come to realize something.
He had never once heard Sun-jam's voice.
I didn't want to pry and ask, so it's actually better that she brought it up first.
Whatever the future held, they were bound to see a lot of each other as long as Shan-hun worked with him.
Rather than walking on eggshells around each other, it was much better to lay the facts bare and be mindful.
Besides, there might be a way for Dojin to help.
“Is she... completely unable to speak?” Dojin asked cautiously after a brief hesitation.
He had hesitated to ask, but it was crucial information.
If it was a congenital condition, there wouldn't be much Dojin could do to help.
However, Altani shook her head.
“We do not know. When she was hospitalized, Sun-jam was too young, so there were barely any tests they could run. We could not go to a hospital after that...”
“I see...”
Dojin couldn't find the words to respond as he watched Altani's bitter smile.
Never having been a parent in either his past life or his current one, he couldn't truly fathom the depth of her feelings.
Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Altani composed herself and spoke.
“That is why I was so happy when we were told we could come to Korea. Unlike Mongolia, Korea has very good hospitals.”
Dojin nodded at her words.
He didn't mean to look down on Mongolia, but it was an undeniable fact that Korea's medical field was far superior.
Korea's healthcare infrastructure was globally recognized, after all.
The fact that they can maintain normal medical services during the COVID-19 pandemic proves it's world-class.
To maintain such a system, healthcare workers across the country were pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into their jobs even at this very moment.
“Let's start by visiting a hospital. Fortunately, there's a large general hospital just a short drive from the house.”
“Thank you...”
Altani bowed politely at Dojin's reassurance.
Dojin bowed back in return.
He had received expressions of gratitude from her several times before, but this one felt different.
Before, it had been gratitude for helping Shan-hun and bringing their family over. This time, it was the raw, heartfelt gratitude of a parent with a sick child.
The day after they returned to Sekki House.
True to his word, Dojin took Sun-jam to the hospital.
Naturally, her parents, Shan-hun and Altani, came along.
“Hmm. So the child is five years old and isn't speaking. Does she not speak at all?”
At the pediatrician's question, Dojin turned to look at Shan-hun.
He figured it would be better for the father to answer.
However, Shan-hun's response caught Dojin completely off guard.
“She speaks well.”
“Huh?”
“Pardon?”
Dojin turned to Altani in sheer bewilderment.
Yet, Altani's expression remained perfectly calm.
It was as if she had fully expected Shan-hun to say that.
Gently stroking Sun-jam's hair, she spoke in a quiet voice.
“Sun-jam only speaks when she is alone with her father. She does not say a word when anyone else is around.”
“Ah...”
“I see...”
Both Dojin and the doctor nodded, understanding Altani's explanation.
It made sense why Shan-hun had answered the way he did.
Since she spoke fine when they were alone, it was only natural for Shan-hun to believe his daughter could speak perfectly well.
From there, Shan-hun and Altani took turns describing Sun-jam's behavior to the doctor.
“When it is just the two of us, she whispers in my ear. Mostly she asks for meat, to be carried on my shoulders, or if there is tomorrow.”
“The moment I enter the room, Sun-jam goes silent. Even if I ask if she is hungry or sleepy, she only nods or shakes her head.”
“She often tells me where she wants to go or what she wants to do. She especially loves riding on my shoulders.”
“Sun-jam is very quiet. She never says what she wants. She just does whatever I tell her to do.”
“...”
“...”
At some point, Dojin found himself listening to the couple in a daze.
Their accounts were so vastly different.
He was beginning to wonder if they were even talking about the same child.
The doctor's reaction, however, was quite different.
“I understand what you both are saying. However, we will need to run a few more tests to make an accurate diagnosis.”
With that, the doctor began typing busily on his computer.
“First, she will need a comprehensive psychological evaluation. Normally, there's a long waiting list, so you would have had to wait a few weeks, but...”
Clack, clack, clack.
“Ah, you're in luck. Because of the pandemic, there aren't many patients today, so we can get her tested right away. The pediatric psychiatry department handles the psychological evaluation, so just head straight out and turn left.”
“Excuse me...”
Altani interrupted the doctor, who was still typing away.
“Sun-jam was hospitalized when she was two. I do not know what the illness is called in Korean. The hospital called it a 'febrile convulsion'.”
As she spoke, Altani handed over a sheet of paper. Dojin recognized it as a medical certificate.
“Ah, febrile seizures. It's a relatively common symptom in children under five.”
The doctor nodded as he reviewed the document.
Even so, Altani's expression remained grim.
“The hospital in Mongolia said the same thing at first. But Sun-jam was sick for a very long time.”
“A long time? How long exactly?”
“I do not know exactly, but it was about an hour.”
“...”
At Altani's words, the doctor's calm demeanor instantly turned grave.
While febrile seizures were common in children, any seizure lasting longer than five minutes carried a high risk of leaving lasting complications.
If it lasted nearly an hour, that's not a simple seizure. That's status epilepticus.
The doctor now understood why the mother had brought this up.
In most cases, status epilepticus carried a high probability of causing brain damage.
“Would you like us to test for any developmental or neurological complications?”
Altani nodded.
At the doctor's question, Altani gave a firm nod.
The doctor began typing once more.
“We'll schedule a brain scan, and just to be safe, a genetic test as well. The neurology department is fully booked today, so I'll put her on the waiting list.”
“So? When did they say the results would be out?”
“Well, it seems like it'll take some time. They said the comprehensive psychological evaluation takes a month, and the genetic test will take at least two months.”
“That's longer than I expected.”
At Dojin's words, both Seung-wan and Do-hee smacked their lips in disappointment.
They, too, were deeply curious about Sun-jam's condition.
After all, she was the only child in Sekki House, which was otherwise filled only with adults.
Just seeing her breathe was enough to draw everyone's attention.
“Aw, she's so adorable. It's such a shame she can't speak.”
Do-hee spoke wistfully, staring at the playroom monitor.
On one of the many security feeds, Sun-jam was visible.
She had been sitting there for a while, cradling Ulbo on her lap and gently stroking the kitten's head.
“She looks perfectly normal at a glance.”
“No way! At a glance, she looks like a doll! A literal doll!”
“...”
Seung-wan gave Do-hee a look of mild exasperation before turning back to Dojin.
It felt strangely unfamiliar to see his employer casually checking comments on his phone, acting as if his job was done now that he had shared the hospital results.
“...Come to think of it, I've been seeing a lot of you lately, Dojin.”
“Huh? I was just in quarantine for two weeks.”
“No, I don't mean that.”
Waving off Dojin's bewildered look, Seung-wan pointed outside.
“You used to spend way more time outside than in the office. But lately, it feels like you're always sitting in here.”
Given the sheer size of Sekki House's grounds, it required a massive amount of manual labor.
Even though summer was winding down and the growth had slowed, weeds would still overrun the place if they let their guard down for even a moment.
These damn weeds keep growing back in just a few days, even after spraying herbicide.
Actually, there was a specific reason why weeds grew so exceptionally well at Sekki House.
Dojin purposely diluted the herbicide to a very low concentration.
Since Ttorang-i and Bo-ri regularly went for walks around the grounds, Dojin had lowered the concentration out of concern for the animals' health.
As a result, the task of dealing with the rapidly growing weeds fell entirely on Dojin's shoulders.
He couldn't exactly dump that chore on the security team or the kitchen staff.
Yet, since his return, Dojin hadn't touched the lawnmower.
To be precise, he wasn't allowed to.
“Ah, I got kicked out by Shan-hun and Begter. They insisted it was their job.”
Upon returning to Sekki House, Dojin had gone to look for the lawnmower right after lunch.
Having been away for two weeks, he could see weeds sprouting up all over the place.
But just as he was about to start, Shan-hun blocked his path.
“Boss, how do you drive this?”
“Oh, this? It's easy. You just do this, and then...”
Seeing how eager Shan-hun was, Dojin explained how to operate the machine.
Unlike before, Dojin no longer spoke to Shan-hun in formal Korean. This was something Shan-hun had specifically requested before they left Mongolia.
“You are the boss, so you must speak comfortably. Especially since you are older than me, Boss.”
Shan-hun had been stubborn about this one point, so Dojin had eventually given in and switched to casual speech.
“There, that's all. Easy, right?”
“It is easy. It is simple, so I remember everything.”
They say that good equipment is equipment that is easy and safe to operate.
In that sense, the machinery Jo Yeong-jin had gifted them was top-of-the-line.
Combined with Shan-hun's natural quick-wittedness, the training was over in the blink of an eye.
And as a result, Dojin was promptly shooed away.
“I will do this from now on.”
“What?”
“You drove a long way and must be tired, Boss. Go inside and rest. I will handle this.”
“Wait, you were in the car with me, Shan-hun...”
Dojin tried to stop him, but Shan-hun had already driven the mower out toward the school yard.
What the... Why does it feel like he's driving it faster than I do?
From then on, it was a series of similar occurrences.
“I have always wanted to try painting. Please teach me.”
And just like that, the paint sprayer was taken from him.
“...”
“Begter? What brings you here?”
“Please just call me Begter. My brother said he wanted to try using this machine.”
“...”
Even the various wood milling machines in the workshop were confiscated by Shan-hun and his younger brother, Begter.
Is it just my imagination, or am I slowly being stripped of all my chores?
To make matters worse, the two brothers, who had only recently learned to use the machines, were shaping the wood with far greater precision than Dojin ever had.
The cat tower crafted by Begter and neatly painted by Shan-hun was currently a massive hit among Bo-ri and her family.
On top of that, the brothers took over the maintenance of the waterways and the newly acquired land, leaving Dojin with absolutely nothing to do.
“Pfft. Well, those two certainly are capable.”
“Exactly. They're like machines. At this rate, they're going to steal every single one of your jobs, Dojin.”
Dojin, who had been lost in his memories, turned his head toward the sound of chuckling beside him.
“I don't think you're in any position to talk, Seung-wan.”
Dojin pointed toward a corner of the office.
There, a new face was diligently working away at a computer.
Click, clack, tap, tap.
Obei had naturally integrated herself into the office that used to house only three people. Currently, she was working on a video edit that Seung-wan had assigned to her.
“...”
“Obei's working speed is insane, isn't it?”
“...Yes.”
At Dojin's remark, Seung-wan looked at her with a complicated expression.
“Obei is very good at video editing.”
When Altani had first brought Obei over and made that claim, Dojin hadn't quite believed it.
Manual labor like what Shan-hun and Begter did was one thing, but video editing required a completely different set of skills.
Yet, Altani's words had proven entirely true.
“Wait... what?”
“How is it?”
“It's... not bad. She seems to only use the basic functions, but that actually makes the edit look much cleaner.”
“Which means?”
“She's more than qualified to work as an assistant editor.”
Once Seung-wan gave his stamp of approval after watching the test run, Dojin looked at Altani.
She smiled warmly, as if she had expected nothing less.
“I saw her post many videos she filmed at school. On TokTok.”
“Ah... so they use TokTok in Mongolia too.”
He had assumed they wouldn't use it since it was a Chinese app, but apparently, that didn't matter.
“She said she would start a NewTube channel once she got popular on TokTok.”
Dojin nodded at the explanation.
Thinking about it, that wasn't a bad idea.
NewTube was already saturated with established creators.
In contrast, TokTok was a relatively new platform, meaning there were far more opportunities for newcomers.
However...
“What kind of content does she want to make?”
“Dancing and beauty.”
From what Dojin could see, Obei was far removed from the beauty scene.
Those who succeeded in that niche usually put a lot of effort into dressing up and styling themselves, but Obei didn't seem like the type.
At best, her image was closer to that of a 'simple, innocent country girl.'
“Can you dance well, Obei?”
“No, I cannot.”
“...”
“So these days, I am studying editing very hard.”
“Well... it's good that you're quick to adapt.”
Realizing she didn't have much of a future as a streamer, she had apparently spent her time editing videos for her friends before coming to Korea.
Perhaps because of that experience, Obei looked quite natural sitting in front of the editing software.
Under Seung-wan's guidance and detailed instructions, her skills grew by leaps and bounds. Now, she was capable of handling most editing tasks entirely on her own.
“Well, it's nice that my workload has decreased, but...”
“You feel a bit conflicted, don't you?”
“...Yes.”
And they weren't the only ones working.
Altani, who had successfully secured jobs for both her husband and her brother-in-law, was also helping out the kitchen staff.
Dojin hadn't paid close attention, but he could easily guess how things were going just by looking at the kitchen whenever he went to eat.
The kitchen ladies were absolutely doting on Altani.
“My goodness! How is she so strong with such a petite frame?”
“And she's so efficient! It takes her less than thirty minutes to prep all the onions and green onions by herself.”
“I was dreading making the next batch of kimchi, but with Altani here, I don't have a single worry.”
“...Did everyone get collectively hypnotized?”
The only Mongolian who wasn't working was Sun-jam.
Actually, even Sun-jam was doing something.
“...”
Woof! Woof!
“...”
“Is she... walking Ttorang-i right now?”
“It... looks like it.”
Before they knew it, Sun-jam had taken to walking Ttorang-i three times a day.
And she even made sure to put the muzzle on the dog perfectly.
“This is... surprisingly comfortable.”
“Is this what a future AI-driven society feels like?”
“What are you talking about? There isn't a single AI involved here.”
Just five Mongolians were completely transforming the welfare and daily life of Sekki House.