Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Fixing Flaws
“Ghost, congratulations on your safe return.”
As Kang Jin-hu removed his gas mask, the dust and dirt caked on his body scattered. His face was gaunt, his clothes were torn to shreds, and not a single part of him was unscathed, stained as it was with blood.
His superior officer glanced for a moment at his subordinate’s missing right arm before reviewing Kang Jin-hu’s records.
“The platoon… wiped out. At least you made it back alive. That’s what matters. Where’d you leave your arm?”
The officer didn’t reprimand the platoon leader, Kang Jin-hu, for returning alone. After all, lives could always be created.
It was a society where the first thing taught to young children who had just become soldiers was, ‘You are all expendable. Prioritize your survival, but if you sustain an injury beyond recovery, you are to take your own life.’
‘At least we salvaged this one.’
The officer felt it was a shame that the fledglings he had painstakingly trained had died, but he considered Kang Jin-hu’s survival a greater gain. Since birth, Kang Jin-hu was the only soldier who hadn’t been ‘disposed of,’ meaning he possessed valuable experience that couldn’t be artificially created.
“...I was caught in an explosion with my squad members.”
“If you’d brought it back, we could have reattached it… Tsk.”
The officer clicked his tongue, annoyed at the resources needed to attach a mechanical arm to a person, but Kang Jin-hu felt nothing.
“Go to the infirmary and get a new arm. You’ll be on standby at home for the time being. Await your next mission.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kang Jin-hu nodded, his face devoid of expression.
“Still reusable.”
A cold voice, as if appraising an object, came from between the closing doors. The words were directed at him. Kang Jin-hu furrowed his brow.
<Ghost, my condolences for your squad mates. You have endured much.>
<Your next mission is in 32 hours, 27 minutes, and 21 seconds. Please rest well until then.>
The irony of an AI offering more humane words of concern made Kang Jin-hu burst out laughing.
After receiving a new arm from the infirmary, he stepped out of the unit. The stuffy underground air, the people huddled together in a confined space, and the soldiers who occasionally went to the surface to exterminate monsters and mine resources.
“Ghost, got a new arm? What happened?”
“Things happened.”
“So the record of a soldier without any mechanical parts is broken, huh… How about a drink later?”
“Later.”
Slipping through the crowd, Kang Jin-hu headed for his home. The large central pillar housed the artificial life incubator, ‘Eve,’ its presence commanding.
Just then, a person was born. A birthing assistant drone, which had been floating in the air, moved swiftly. B designated the food production sector. The infant, carried away by the drone, would be assigned to grow vegetables in a greenhouse or manage livestock production.
<Welcome home, Master. Shall I prepare a meal?>
“No, I’m not eating.”
<Understood.>
As he opened the front door, the AI managing his home greeted him. After a quick wash, Kang Jin-hu threw himself onto the bed.
[What would you want to do if you lived in the world before the fall?]
[Run!]
[Aaargh! S-save me…!]
His body felt heavy, but sleep wouldn’t come, and his mind was plagued by stray thoughts. Kang Jin-hu sat up.
“Home, open the archives.”
<Yes, Master. Shall I resume episode 12 of ‘Passionate Youth,’ which you were watching yesterday?>
“Yes.”
Kang Jin-hu was born in Sector S, where his future as a soldier was determined from the cellular stage. He began training as soon as he could walk and was sent to the surface just as he turned ten.
‘That person was a doctor in another show, but here he’s a baseball player.’
A life predetermined to fight monsters from birth until death. Though he was born unable to feel pain, he still had emotions.
At first, he questioned why he had to do this, denied his own identity, and even felt rage. But now, he had reached the stage of resignation.
‘That looks fun.’
What would it feel like for one person to become someone new through a piece of fiction?
If humanity didn’t have to hide underground, if they could live under a blue sky according to their own will, he would want to become an actor.
Not in propaganda pieces designed to convince people that the new humanity could only survive by applying deepfake technology to robots and working together, but in creative works filled with the scent of human life. In them, Kang Jin-hu wanted to be a student, a teacher, and sometimes, just an ordinary office worker.
‘Such useless thoughts.’
It was a dream that could never be realized.
Woken by his phone alarm, Yu Yeon-seo groggily sat up. He stared blankly as he clenched and unclenched his hand. He could feel vivid sensations, not the coldness of a mechanical prosthetic.
‘Oh, right. This is 2018.’
Only then did life return to his eyes. Yu Yeon-seo looked up. The clock read 6:30 AM.
‘It’ll be a while before Im Seung-hyeon gets here.’
He grabbed a large wad of tissues from the bedside table and pressed it to his mouth.
“…Beta.”
<Yes, Master.>
“Sync memories.”
<Understood. Initiating random memory synchronization.>
I need to diligently absorb the original owner’s memories.
After coughing up another mouthful of blood from the aftereffects, Yu Yeon-seo lost consciousness for about an hour before waking up. This synchronization yielded no new gains. It only served to confirm yet again what a bastard Yu Yeon-seo had been.
“…What’s this? Is there a meal-assistance robot here too?”
I didn’t hear a thing, so when did they set all this up? After washing the blood off his body, he came out to the living room and his jaw dropped at the sight of the breakfast spread on the table.
“No way.”
In a house this wealthy, it wouldn’t be strange to have a housekeeper. Yu Yeon-seo must have given specific instructions.
Just as he was about to sit down, he heard the sound of buttons being pressed on the front door lock. Dressed in a suit, Im Seung-hyeon met Yu Yeon-seo’s eyes and gave an awkward greeting.
“Good morning, Young Master.”
“Perfect timing. Have you eaten?”
“Pardon? No, not yet…”
“Join me.”
Im Seung-hyeon’s expression was one of surprise.
Why? Isn’t it nice to eat together? Thinking this, Yu Yeon-seo put a spoon in his mouth and gestured for him to sit down.
“E-eat together?”
“Yes. I think we just need to set out a bowl and spoon for you here.”
“I-I’ll do it.”
“Sit down.”
Though Im Seung-hyeon was flustered, Yu Yeon-seo made him sit and even served him a bowl of rice himself.
“Seeing you so surprised, I take it you’re well aware of the problem with my memory.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Was my personality really that bad?”
“Yes, it was… Ah, no, it wasn’t.”
Yu Yeon-seo smirked. His flustered state was both amusing and pitiful. He was likely an elite from Juseong Group, yet here he was, waiting on a third-generation train wreck.
Yu Yeon-seo focused on the lavish meal, and the clattering of utensils was the only sound that filled the dining room.
“You said you’re from the Strategic Planning Division, right? Who assigned you to me?”
“The Managing Director gave the order himself.”
“The Managing Director, my brother?”
“Yes, he instructed me to assist you to the best of my ability.”
Yu Yeon-seo stopped eating and stared intently at Im Seung-hyeon. Realizing this was Yu Yeon-seo’s version of an interview, Im Seung-hyeon straightened his posture.
“Then how far should I trust you, Mr. Im?”
Im Seung-hyeon swallowed hard.
“You don’t need to consider such things, Young Master. Trust is something I must earn while working for you from now on.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
“You can just think of it as having one more manager and use me as you see fit.”
Yu Yeon-seo’s eyebrow twitched. Use him? He was a person, just like him.
“‘Use me?’ As if a person is some kind of object… Anyway, I understand. You were hired by my brother, but you’ll be working for me, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, it would be better for you to become my manager… Then again, the Juseong Group business card carries more weight.”
Muttering to himself loud enough for Im Seung-hyeon to hear, Yu Yeon-seo resumed his meal. Still, he didn’t understand. Why assign someone to a grown adult, and someone from Juseong Group at that? His agency would be assigning him a new manager anyway…
“Do you report my every minor action to my brother?”
“No, sir. The Managing Director did not attach any such conditions.”
Yu Yeon-seo frowned. Wasn’t this an attempt to keep his younger brother in check? Was it just out of concern? No, it was more convincing to think of him as a watchdog, assigned because he caused so much trouble.
“He is likely just worried because of your memory loss.”
The quick-witted Im Seung-hyeon read Yu Yeon-seo’s discomfort and spoke up.
“Does my brother normally take good care of me?”
“Yes, it is common knowledge, even among the rank-and-file employees, that the Managing Director and the Vice Chairman dote on you.”
“Is that right?”
Well, alright. End of suspicion. I’ll just think of them as loving brothers. It’s too complicated to think about it any further.
Yu Yeon-seo stretched. It was probably out of pity, since he had witnessed his mother’s accident up close.
“Alright. If we’re done eating, let’s head out.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my agency.”
“Amnesia? Is it a side effect of the accident?”
“Something like that. I have fragmented memories, but I can’t seem to think straight.”
CEO Han Jong-o of Halo Media stared at the properly seated Yu Yeon-seo with a sense of wonder. No wonder it felt strange. The man who used to be so casually disrespectful was now using polite language.
“I see. Still, I’m glad you’re safe.”
Even though Yu Yeon-seo was a rude and incredibly disobedient brat, the soft-hearted CEO Han would not have rested easy if he had died. In truth, it was mostly because he was terrified of how Juseong Group would react.
“So, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting more?”
“Ah, I’m not going to start working right away. I need you to get me an acting coach.”
“What?”
CEO Han shot up from his seat in surprise.
“What’s so surprising? You know my acting is garbage, CEO Han. I saw the articles. I was getting torn to shreds.”
“S-so you’re saying you’ll obediently take lessons from an acting coach?”
“If something is lacking, it must be fixed.”
Yu Yeon-seo, who had zero self-awareness, was voluntarily asking for acting lessons? Did a near-death experience completely change his outlook on life?
“Are… are you really Yu Yeon-seo?”
“If I’m not Yu Yeon-seo, then who is this person sitting in front of you?”
Yu Yeon-seo flinched inwardly but maintained a bold front. CEO Han scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
“So, are you going to get me one or not?”
“Huh? Oh… right. Of course, if you want to learn, I have to get you one.”
CEO Han felt as if he’d been struck by something, but if Yu Yeon-seo had truly turned over a new leaf and could shed even a little of his former terrible acting… it would be huge.
Projects that had no hope were instantly revived if they caught Yu Yeon-seo’s eye. If the backing and capital of Yu Yeon-seo, who could carry a project on his own, were combined with actual acting skills? CEO Han felt a surge of motivation.
“I’ll find you a really good coach.”
“I’m counting on you, CEO Han.”
Wow, wow… He’s counting on me. Is this really the same rude Yu Yeon-seo? His heart swelled with emotion. CEO Han clutched his chest.
Well, a near-death experience could change a person’s personality at any time. The kid had finally grown up. Now I won’t have to run around cleaning up after one of my troublemaking actors.
“Huh? A call from Manager Park…”
But that thought was shattered the moment he received a call.
“…Yeon-seo. What is this article?”
Yu Yeon-seo Visits Deceased Manager’s Family After Discharge… Outrageous Remark: “Take the price of his life and buy yourself a foreign car.”
Unfazed by Manager’s Death, Yu Yeon-seo Kills the Victim a Second Time with Visit to Family.