By Zephyria 
Come to think of it, Sakdal. It was a story about that place again. Mu-hae had also felt a restless atmosphere there a couple of times.
Since he hadn’t heard any particular rumors until now, he thought nothing major had happened. However, Teacher Jung, who had treated patients related to that place, seemed to know something.
“I think it was like that a month or two ago as well. Is it still going on?”
“It’s calmed down to some extent. I heard there was almost a shift in the power dynamics over there.”
“Power, you say…”
“Another guy with backing appeared. He was quite arrogant, so everyone was keeping a low profile while watching closely, but it seems the matter has been resolved.”
As he answered, Teacher Jung tapped near his temple. The head. A signal referring to Cheong.
Only then did the mask-like smile of Cheong, who had mentioned aligning himself with a big shot, come vividly to mind.
The fact that he had valued the request regarding the T-47 at 80,000 deals, despite having no interest in Starpath itself…
The administrator of Sakdal is an unofficial position. No one decided such a thing should exist, nor was permission ever granted, but it was a neighborhood where private power was tolerated in order to control and organize a district that was practically a slum to squeeze out profits.
Since Cheong had taken over that chaos through sheer social maneuvering and ability, anyone else could rush in at any time with similar momentum.
Because it was a delicate matter, it seemed they had controlled the rumors, but once the situation was settled to some degree, information began to spread word-of-mouth in this manner.
“You aren’t entangled in it, are you?”
“No way. If they want to keep doing business, they won’t touch civilians. Especially doctors. Are you doing alright yourself?”
“Yes, well. I hardly ever go into Sakdal.”
Even though he had gone in and out several times because of that blue-headed bastard, there was no need to mention it and cause worry.
Without a change in expression, Teacher Jung gave a shallow nod and tossed the blood-stained gauze and alcohol swabs into the waste bin.
“That lubricant seems to have been obtained from Sakdal.”
At the voice muttering as if in passing, Mu-hae’s shoulders stiffened.
For a moment, he almost jumped and looked back. He didn’t know how the doctor knew, but a chill ran down his spine.
“…As I told you, the information on the Return flight was over there, so I thought it would arouse suspicion if I came out empty-handed…”
He explained almost reflexively, then squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth shut.
The corners of Teacher Jung’s mouth were slightly upturned. It had been his own way of joking and playing a prank.
He had fallen for the bait perfectly and confessed that the source of that damn item was Sakdal.
“Regardless of the process, it seems you’ve been doing well.”
“I told you so.”
Mu-hae sighed and glanced toward Joo-oh. He was anxious that Joo-oh might butt in and blurt out something like, ‘He didn’t just buy lubricant.’
Drrrk. The half-closed curtain was pulled back, and the tidying of the treatment room was finished. Meanwhile, Joo-oh, who had been sitting on the adjacent bed watching at his own leisure, clapped as if to say ‘good job.’
“Don’t sit there, go to the chair. I just finished cleaning.”
“Leave him be. It’s not like he’s struggling or shedding hair.”
Doesn’t hair fall out without warning even if one doesn’t want it to? Ignoring the small doubt, Mu-hae walked toward Teacher Jung.
Meeting his eyes, Joo-oh made a ‘see?’ expression. He held a new wire puzzle in his hand, though Mu-hae didn’t know when he had found it.
It was a truly insolent and annoying face.
“I heard from CEO Gil.”
“…Yes.”
“Anything you’re curious about?”
“Not really.”
Teacher Jung sat at the desk where the pad was placed. He didn’t try to set a mood like CEO Gil, nor did he seem anxious or nervous.
However, his face, which looked remarkably young for his age, was haggard. Though he didn’t say it, it seemed he hadn’t spent his days in peace.
“What did he say?”
“That guy, well, it’s always my fault. If you had contacted me in advance, I could have arranged a proper setting. For now, sit there.”
“I didn’t come to ask about that. I won’t take much of your time. There’s just something small I need help with.”
Instead of explaining this or that, Mu-hae picked up the pad and typed in the code he had memorized.
It was content for which he hadn’t found a clue, let alone a solution. If he could salvage even one part that could serve as a hint, he would feel that visiting Teacher Jung was worthwhile.
“I found another document from the Return flight.”
“What kind?”
“Starpath.”
The man, who had been listening silently, took off his glasses. Fingers as long as his height covered his tired eyes.
After remaining motionless for a long time, Teacher Jung finally raised his head. With an unchanging demeanor, he put his glasses back on and looked back at Mu-hae.
“This probably isn’t a formula related to Starpath.”
“Yes. I found it additionally in that document.”
“There’s no way something like this was in that document.”
“Maybe it was attached additionally. There’s no guarantee it’s exactly as the past records were.”
Teacher Jung gazed quietly at the code. He was so still that, if not for his slightly trembling pupils, one could have believed he was a stone statue.
“Did you bring this here to ask me to solve it?”
“Repairs aren’t really my forte.”
“I don’t think it’s a mathematical expression.”
“…It’s not?”
He pointed to a few symbols with his fingertip. Even so, Mu-hae couldn’t understand the meaning.
“At a glance it looks like a formula, but these aren’t mathematical symbols. The part after SHELL, it seems more correct to view it as a dash rather than a minus.”
“Then…”
“It’s not a problem to be calculated. It’s something you can solve with your own head.”
“I guess you have an idea.”
Teacher Jung rested his chin on his hand without replying. His face looked deep in thought.
“Where did you get this?”
“Just…”
“No. Would it be more correct to ask who gave it to you?”
It was a sharp question. In terms of process, it was correct that he had obtained it, but it was information placed with the intention that it would end up in Mu-hae’s hands.
While pondering how to answer, he suddenly recalled the conversation with CEO Gil. Since he had mentioned he heard the story from him, Teacher Jung would also know information about the big shot.
With just a meeting of eyes, the eyes behind the glasses caught the answer. He pushed the pad forward toward Mu-hae.
“I think you’re the one who should solve it.”
“You did figure it out.”
“It’s probably better if I don’t interfere too much in your business.”
“Is that the conclusion you reached back then?”
At the abrupt question, the air cooled enough to feel chilly. Teacher Jung silently stared at the code on the pad.
Click, clack. Only the sound of playing with metal filled the suffocatingly quiet treatment room.
Click-!
“I solved it all!”
An exclamation burst from behind him. The guy who had been so perceptive until a moment ago bragged in a bright voice.
Taking advantage of the broken silence, Teacher Jung’s eyes turned toward Mu-hae again.
“No. I realized it much earlier than that.”
He murmured softly.
“That my existence won’t always be a help to your life.”
Joo-oh approached and placed the disassembled puzzle in Teacher Jung’s hand. Teacher Jung naturally stroked the black hair and opened a drawer.
“Since you’re here, why don’t you let me draw some blood before you go?”
“Me?”
“The amount I drew previously has been exhausted.”
“Why this guy’s blood?”
Mu-hae asked in a low voice, pushing away the one clinging to the hand that was stroking him without restraint.
He had seen blood being collected several times when Joo-oh was getting a check-up. But this was the first time he had heard that it was used instead of being discarded.
“There’s something I need to look into.”
“Are you doing some kind of experiment?”
“It won’t be harmful.”
“I don’t think that’s what I’m asking.”
As he said, Teacher Jung would not harm Mu-hae. If anything, he would protect and help him.
Despite capturing suspicious circumstances, he could firmly believe that one fact. The problem was whether Joo-oh was included in that target.
He was not cruel, but he was cold-headed. While pursuing ideals, he knew how to face reality, and he knew how to use others to protect those who were devoted to him.
CEO Gil was the same in that regard, but there was a difference in how the two viewed Joo-oh.
Despite treating him so affectionately and openly sharing matters of the Return flight without reservation, Teacher Jung had not yet brought Joo-oh into his own boundary.
He finally understood the identity of the unpleasantness that had been lingering at the back of his neck.
“Go home.”
“Why? Don’t do it?”
“Don’t do it.”
The muscles in Mu-hae’s eyebrows tightened. He pushed the blinking Joo-oh further back.
Teacher Jung neither got angry nor felt hurt. He simply watched the scene blankly, clacking the puzzle in his hand.
“It won’t be harmful to that child either.”
Placing the disassembled pieces of metal on the desk, he finally gave a definitive answer.
“Do you still need an explanation?”
“Yes.”
“As for the reason… right.”
Teacher Jung released his arm from his chin and leaned against the back of the chair. He leaned forward slightly, rummaged through the drawer, and pulled out a storage device of unknown contents.
Beep-!
An image projecting the internal organs of a human appeared on the cheap monitor attached to the wall.
Naturally, looking at the data that had no labels, Mu-hae felt an ominous sensation wash over him.
“The condition isn’t good.”
“…”
“It’s been like that ever since that day.”
The moment he heard the restrained explanation, the heat that had been surging up cooled instantly.
The identity of the person who wasn’t even mentioned… somehow, he felt he knew.
When he had visited not long ago, he had looked noticeably gaunt. The blood circulating through his body felt cold and sticky, like half-melted ice cream.
“Then…”
He didn’t know what to say or what story he had intended to bring up. He opened his mouth blindly, but the words got stuck.
Looking back in confusion, Joo-oh’s expression was peaceful, as if he didn’t understand the situation.
Still, his gaze was excessively clear. When he had a face like this, Joo-oh often became sharp enough to surprise Mu-hae.
“How much longer…”
“More than expected. I don’t think they’ll be able to hold out much longer.”
“But you told me it was okay.”
It’s a habit. A terrible habit. Teacher Jung murmured calmly.
On the back of his quietly clenched hand, a scraped wound remained faintly.
228 – I Became an Anomaly in a Dead Game