Chapter 70
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Past (5): Psychological Treatment (1)
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00070 [-- #Past --]
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#Past (5), Psychological Treatment (1)
The woman turned the steering wheel. The sedan left the city streets.
Her destination was the Central Repository of the Post-Mortem Insurance Corporation.
There was someone she wanted to meet.
Someone she could only meet here.
The road leading into the facility felt eerie. It was like entering another world. Wide expanses were enclosed by triple-layered chain-link fences, with high-voltage warning signs posted. Beyond them stood concrete barriers, and every thirty meters, surveillance towers rose.
There were no people in the towers. Only unmanned turrets controlled by the Post-Mortem Insurance surveillance AI.
The soldiers at the checkpoint spotted the vehicle and waved red glow sticks.
The woman stopped in front of the barrier.
The approaching soldier startled upon seeing her. The woman felt a bit flustered too. Did he recognize my face?
No. His gaze avoided hers so openly and honestly. Out of habit, the woman covered her face—pressing her fingertips to her forehead, peeking through the gaps at him. The soldier extended his hand regretfully.
“I’ll need to check your ID for a moment.”
The woman pulled out her resident registration card. The soldier swiped it on his handheld terminal. Beep, beep, beep. A green light appeared on the device.
「Post-Mortem Insurance affiliate. Access granted.」
The soldier read her ID and purpose, nodded, and handed back the card.
“You’ve reserved in advance. Go ahead, Doctor.”
Fortunately, her fake ID hadn’t been exposed.
She could enter freely with her real identity too. In truth, she was indirectly affiliated with Post-Mortem Insurance. But the woman didn’t want others to know about her visit.
The barrier lifted. The woman cautiously pressed the accelerator.
The sedan entered the southern parking lot of the repository. The lot was vast. It had been built expecting massive visitor numbers at launch. What was visible above ground was just the tip of the iceberg. Twelve more expansive underground levels existed. Right after Post-Mortem Insurance launched, those expectations held true. Endless families of brain-extracted subscribers flooded in for visits.
Things were different now. The parked cars could be counted on two hands.
Was it the stringent visitation procedures?
There was no helping it.
Post-Mortem Insurance was the world’s most advanced virtual reality-artificial intelligence complex, and South Korea’s greatest economic growth engine. Naturally, countless nations, corporations, and groups coveted its technology.
Physical threats existed too. Terrorism from extremists politically, religiously, or ideologically opposed to Post-Mortem Insurance and AI. It still happened frequently. A staple in recent news.
The communication channel between brain-extracted subscribers and the outside world being limited to 「Teletype」—and requiring countless security programs—was all part of this. One-way broadcasting posed no issue, but two-way interaction risked hacking.
In the end, visits with those housed in the facility could only occur within the facility itself.
This was what the woman knew, and what the world generally knew.
‘Even so…… this place feels too desolate.’
800,000 brains were stored here in the Central Repository alone. Didn’t their families miss them? Distance, time, and procedures should mean nothing against deep longing.
The woman entered the building.
The Central Repository—the Post-Mortem Insurance Corporation’s facility for housing brains in the central region—was grand and overwhelming. People called this building the 「Columbarium」.
It was a form of mockery. Why waste money on appearances when those inside couldn’t see anyway? The government replied it was for national prestige. The woman knew another reason. Politicians had always loved civil engineering and construction.
Still, there were positives. The repository’s durability exceeded that of a nuclear power plant.
The woman scanned the building interior. There were more guards than visitors.
A waiting line was marked, but no one waited. A guide drone flew in from the hangar. It identified her via facial and iris recognition, then reconfirmed her purpose.
「Dr. Song Sua. You’ve requested a visit with subscriber Han Gyeowol (Winter), registration number B-612, correct?」
“Yes.”
「Your visit request was pre-notified. Han Gyeowol (Winter) has accepted. He is currently waiting, so the visit can proceed immediately. Would you like guidance now?」
“Yeah.”
「Understood. Guiding to B-Class sector.」
The flat disc-shaped drone descended to the floor. As the woman stepped on, it glided forward.
The repository facility followed an asymmetrical radial structure. From the central hall, grand corridors extended in seven directions. Viewed from above, it resembled a wheel spoke worn down on one side.
Each direction also marked boundaries between sectors. The classification was based on deposit size. S-Class was highest, F-Class lowest.
Thus, B sector was shorter than C and below, longer than A and above.
The drone slowed. Black letters on a white wall read B-612.
「We have arrived.」
“Thanks.”
The meaningless courtesy was for her own sake. Like a bow, the drone tilted slightly.
「If you finish your visit or need to move elsewhere, call for a guide drone. This control AI detects voice calls anywhere in Post-Mortem Insurance facilities. Note that voices below 10 decibels may be hard to detect.」
“Got it.”
The drone flew off near-silently.
Silence enveloped the surroundings. The woman now faced straight ahead. The B-Class life-support device, which doubled as a VR connector, could only be viewed from one side. It resembled a circular door embedded in the wall. A long cylindrical shape must hide inside.
The woman approached quietly and placed her hand on it.
A brain and spinal cord were inside. The thought made it feel incredibly cold.
She glanced sideways. Another circle sat there. Full-body access equipment for visitors. Touching the blinking button, the pod slid out silently.
Space for one person to lie down.
The woman lay back. Sensors pressed against the back of her head and nape. They felt like lukewarm liquid. An AR interface filled her vision. As the device activated, the pod slid back into the wall.
Sealed for protection from external threats.
No time to feel claustrophobic. Brainwave patterns served as ID and password. Login happened automatically. Pre-entered data rendered her virtual self—different appearance, different voice.
A white world unfolded instantly.
The boy waited for her in the blank white space, the 「Lobby」. His gaze felt utterly different from before. Crystal clear, almost vacant. An air of detachment emanated from him.
So unlike his memory.
“Ah…….”
The woman let out a groan. She’d thought much about what greeting to offer upon meeting. Yet no words came; only her habit of covering her face.
Her head buzzed. Even with the mask, it felt like she hadn’t worn one. If it wasn’t an illusion, that was trouble. She wasn’t ready to face him as she truly was.
Truthfully, she couldn’t even explain to herself why she’d come, why she wanted to see him. She just couldn’t bear not to. Each day felt like her veins were clogging.
Pity, perhaps. Or a desire to atone.
No, the latter was absurd. I don’t love him—why would I?
The boy, who’d been watching quietly, greeted first.
“Hello, Teacher. I was waiting after your message.”
His voice was remarkably calm.
The woman barely composed herself. She reflexively wore her practiced smile, offering the belated greeting with maximum gentleness.
“Yeah, hello. So you’re Winter?”
Her voice sounded unfamiliar. That fact quickly dispelled her agitation.
She stepped forward, extending her hand. The boy tilted his head but clasped it. A light handshake.
“You probably know already, but I’m Song Sua. I handle psychological rehabilitation for subscribers.”
“That’s odd. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
More pure curiosity than suspicion. Feeling slight tension, the woman gave her prepared response.
“Yeah, I suppose. You’re a special case.”
“Me? Why?”
“Post-Mortem Insurance for minors is rare. Almost no one your age has enough deposits for it. At least in B sector, you’re the only minor.”
“Ah.”
Winter nodded. Retired adults could convert national pensions to Post-Mortem Insurance, but minors practically couldn’t.
The woman relaxed further. The boy had no way to compare, so the excuse would hold indefinitely.
“Before we start, mind if I change the environment here?”
The 「Lobby」 where they stood remained in default settings. Winter nodded again.
“I’ll transfer authority to you.”
The woman confirmed the handover and spread her hand. The stark white vanished, replaced by a comfortable conversation space. Windows letting in clear breezes, warm light, chairs good for reclining, gentle natural sounds from outside.
Based on her own counseling experiences. Plenty of them. Enough to mimic a counselor convincingly.
“Have a seat.”
Winter obeyed readily. Then asked awkwardly.
“What now?”
The woman, seated slightly off-center facing him, formed a kind smile.
“Nothing.”
“Huh?”
“No need to force anything. Think of it as casual chat time. Content doesn’t matter. Trivial is fine, disjointed is okay. Just letting out what’s inside is enough.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sometimes, you learn things about yourself you never knew.”
This was her goal too. She continued, hiding her own depths.
“Knowing who you are, what hurts you, what dreams you have—it’s important. Even if unsolvable, better than ignorance.”
Like me. She swallowed the rest, revealing her habit again. The boy gazed at her steadily. A flicker of doubt in his eyes. Fleeting.
Winter shook his head.
“Sorry, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what to say to you, Teacher. This is our first meeting. We know nothing of each other—what conversation is possible?”
The expected response. The woman smiled again.
“True. To you, I’m just one of countless ordinary people. You’re the same to me. We don’t need each other yet.”
The boy’s expression was ambiguous. But she had more prepared words.
“When people first get close, words aren’t always the best tool. They breed misunderstandings easily. Hard to force too. Start by just being together. Familiarity will make talk flow naturally.”
“…….”
“I’ll come on set dates and times. If it burdens you?”
“No. I have plenty of time anyway.”
“Good. Call if you need a chat partner.”
That was it. True to her word, she summoned a book and began reading. Another scene in her play.
Winter found the silence awkward at first, but soon grew accustomed.
Thoughts naturally unfolded.
Today marked two months since the deal.
Having a real person—not a virtual persona—nearby was rare.
Yet it felt hard to distinguish. Difficult to sense her as real. What came through was the weight of stone.
Winter focused on the sensation. A hazy feeling, graspable yet elusive.
============================ Author’s Notes ============================
1. Those who’ve read The Little Prince will find the final conversation very familiar.
I didn’t put “Little Prince” in the title just for show.
2. There was a request to compile settings separately. I’ve gathered the intermissions and uploaded them to the work settings for now. I’ll organize the rest gradually.
Ugh, busy. Wrote this after reserve army training today, and on the 28th I have to take Mom to the hospital... Also need to contact the publisher...
3.
Q. Artirun: @At least your eloquence will improve... But is game play until you age and die in-game...?
A. I’ve avoided spoilers so far, but on second thought, it’s not that big a deal.
Day After Apocalypse is basically an open world...but the ending condition is met when the control AI predicts, via situational calculations, that humanity in that worldline won’t go extinct. Rewards are massive EXP, and play can continue afterward.
Q. Lizad: @Turn on Ifraca broadcast, show yourself writing the old tales, and all sorts of star balloons and human souls will flock to you! Humans will offer themselves!
A. No need. I’m sick of human souls from eating too many.
Q. Dohwaryeon: @What do you think about being secret friends with us!
A. You mean Steam friends?
The author barely has time for Steam...but my Steam ID is fructidor. Is that enough...?
Never added Steam friends, so not sure.
Q. ciaf: @If changing the title, please make the current one a subtitleㅜㅜ Too good to lose.
A. I think so too. I’ll keep it as a subtitle at least.
Q. Breaking Thunder: Wouldn’t it be easier to just lob chemical shells into cities packed with mutants?
A. Biochemical shells on cities are on hold due to survivor risks. Even Santa Maria had surprise survivors.
Cities like LA or San Diego have tons left too.
And there’s another reason. It’ll come up gradually.
Q. Honest Clown: @Want to write a review, but after reading your work, explaining it myself—too few words available. Even Korean’s greatness falls short... My vocab lackingㅜ
A. Simple is fine! I love all reviews.
English okay if Korean’s tough.
Q. kissshotshinobu: @Author writes novels with feet—what do you do with your hands?
A. I have no hands...