MIT 95

“Hoo-ooh.”

Joo-oh let out a sigh of relief, as if he had been terribly worried it wouldn’t work.

He rubbed his head against Mu-hae’s shoulder, his soft cheek pressing in, making him look quite adorable.

Emboldened, he simply sat down between Mu-hae’s legs and made a strange sound with an utterly blissful expression.

Krr-.

Again. He made that strange sound again. Mu-hae didn’t know how he made it, but he could tell Joo-oh was very satisfied.

After rubbing his head to his heart’s content, Joo-oh finally nestled quietly in his arms. No, Mu-hae hadn’t hugged him, so he just hugged him on his own.

“You want to do this in such a cramped space?”

Mu-hae asked, nudging the wriggling body, and the round head nodded shamelessly. The stupid guy seemed to have completely forgotten that he hadn’t even dusted off his clothes yet.

Dirt and dust fell here and there, further dirtying Mu-hae’s clothes, which had been relatively clean. Tsk, he clicked his tongue once, but the close contact made the body flinch, so he said nothing.

It was a miscalculation. From that day on, an invisible war of nerves began between Joo-oh and Mu-hae.

After showering, Joo-oh deliberately didn’t dry his hair properly and walked around dripping water, and Mu-hae would watch it happen, then later wipe the floor while mentally engraving the character for patience.

After that, he wouldn’t even touch things he could just hand over, insisting that Joo-oh take them himself. Only when Joo-oh pouted with a disappointed look did he realize he was straying from his original purpose and awkwardly stroke his head.

It was counterproductive. Joo-oh was increasingly learning the wrong ways. The man who used to lose his mind at the sight of food would later sit blankly until Mu-hae picked it up for him.

He had started to help him become independent, but from some point on, Joo-oh became more sluggish.

He also seemed to stutter more. Anyone could see his condition was deteriorating.

“TV… TV wanna watch.”

He had become so skilled at speaking, it was almost hateful. Once he realized that all conversations were reduced to single words, a sense of doom washed over him.

“You said you were going to lie down in the room.”

“Here bed.”

“Don’t cut me off, finish what you’re saying.”

“Here also bed have.”

At this point, he couldn’t help but know. Joo-oh was regressing instead of progressing.

It wasn’t like his intelligence had suddenly plummeted. Rather, he had figured it out with that brain of his.

If Mu-hae kept his distance, he just had to make it impossible for him not to touch him. Unlike his increasingly vacant appearance, he had reached a terribly clever conclusion.

With a last glimmer of hope, he took him to Teacher Jung as well. If there was a physical problem, he might be able to fix it.

“So, why did you come?”

“Alone… haah.”

“Why are you stopping in the middle of explaining?”

“He says I don’t comb my hair myself.”

“Is that the real reason?”

Mu-hae couldn’t help but close his eyes at Teacher Jung’s gaze, as if he were looking at something from another world.

Damn it. His suddenly fluent speech, unlike at home, was infuriating.

“Perfect timing. Take this with you while you’re here.”

Teacher Jung flapped his white coat and led the way down the hallway. He entered the bedroom and opened the closet door, revealing not a small wardrobe, but a space of about ten square feet.

Teacher Jung rummaged through the warehouse, which was packed with various medicine boxes.

“The warehouse is next to the bedroom.”

“Do you know how popular pharmaceuticals are as stolen items? One box of this would be enough to hire you for two months straight.”

The man answered without much enthusiasm and went deeper into the warehouse. After a while, he came out with a small box that showed signs of age.

“What is it?”

Mu-hae scanned the tattered cardboard box.

“It’s your father’s. I was going to burn it with him during the cremation, but I was a bit too flustered and forgot.”

“You’re giving it to me now.”

“I found it while cleaning the warehouse the other day.”

Teacher Jung shrugged and tossed the box over. There was a clattering sound inside as something collided.

When he opened it slightly, it really contained all sorts of miscellaneous items. A few pens and a small notebook, a pocketknife that seemed to be for self-defense, a pad that was quietly turned off, either because the battery was dead or because it was broken, and so on.

They didn’t seem very important. Rather than clues for the Return flight, they were closer to traces of his father.

So Teacher Jung must have forgotten too. After the death of his friend, who had been the mainstay of the group, he had stuffed everything into the warehouse and hadn’t even bothered to look at it for over a decade.

“Well… thank you.”

“Since you’re here, I’ll examine him too, but just by looking at him, his complexion is already too good.”

Joo-oh smiled brightly at Teacher Jung. The annoyance he had briefly forgotten was about to surge up again.

“Want a puzzle?”

“Ung.”

“Mu-hae doesn’t teach you honorifics, does he.”

“Ung.”

“Doesn’t seem like he intends to either.”

On the way back to the examination room, Joo-oh stared at the refrigerator. Teacher Jung blocked his gaze, gesturing for him to take care of his friend.

He wouldn’t covet other people’s food now, not like the day he first picked him up. Mu-hae was about to defend him, but he just followed orders and led Joo-oh back into the hallway.

“Oh, you said you were curious about the power structure of this city?”

“Yes. I don’t need details, just a simple overview.”

“I don’t know the details either. I only grasp it to a certain extent. I don’t know if it will be helpful.”

“I know almost nothing.”

“That’s usually the case.”

Teacher Jung gestured at Mu-hae and Joo-oh at once. It meant for both of them to go inside the clinic.

It seemed he was going to give Joo-oh a quick checkup and then tell Mu-hae about the related data or information.

“Take this and stay put.”

“Okay.”

A clattering metal plate fell into Joo-oh’s hand. In the middle of the maze-shaped elephant plate, beads and wires were tangled.

His eyes sparkled as much as if he had seen meat. From then on, Joo-oh focused on the wire puzzle and didn’t even care about pulling his hair or putting the machine to his ear.

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong.”

Teacher Jung casually checked the questionnaire.

“It’s refreshing to see you being so troublesome.”

“I was fooled by his feigned illness.”

“This one doesn’t even seem to have the will to feign illness.”

Joo-oh, who had solved the puzzle in just over ten minutes of examination, gave a bright smile. Teacher Jung gave him a handful of almonds and the puzzle, then turned his gaze to Mu-hae.

He didn’t even have the strength to argue about why he only pretended to be normal in front of others. Mu-hae quietly accepted the pad that Teacher Jung handed him.

On the memo screen, a relationship chart that Teacher Jung had drawn by hand was woven like a spider web.

Crash.

When he returned home and dumped the box on the floor, all sorts of junk rolled out.

“There’s no Giseok.”

“It wouldn’t sell for much anyway.”

Joo-oh, who had slipped in, looked around and quickly shut his mouth again. With a naive expression, he quickly climbed onto the sofa.

As he said, they were really just small items. Rather than Teacher Jung taking care of them with intention, they just seemed to be possessions that Mu-hae’s father had left behind.

The most noticeable was the notebook. When he opened it, there were traces of calculations left on several pages. It didn’t contain any clues, and seemed to be the rules needed for his research.

It goes without saying that Mu-hae had no way of knowing that. Even if he gave it to Teacher Jung or Director Gil, they would probably just ask what it was.

That was all. The old pen was hardened and wouldn’t come out, and the clips and medicine packets were useless.

The only thing he was curious about was the pad. Since Teacher Jung hadn’t mentioned it separately, there probably wasn’t any important data, but there might be some of his father’s private records inside.

Blink. When he put it on any charger, a gauge appeared on the screen of the old pad. It didn’t seem to be a problem with the battery.

If there were no problems with the function, he could carefully look around the device that he had used privately. Feeling a faint expectation, Mu-hae turned around and caught Joo-oh staring blankly into space.

As soon as he returned home, he became dull again. Then, in between, he would subtly check on Mu-hae, and if their eyes met, he would quickly pretend not to know and space out again.

‘Damn it.’

He had already spent enough time on him. Mu-hae cursed inwardly and picked up the pad, which had about 10 percent of its battery charged.

Di-ro-rong-.

The device made a refreshing sound that didn’t suit its owner and started operating. Then, the screen lit up, displaying a simple UI and a few icons.

Without hesitation, Mu-hae immediately touched the notebook-shaped icon. After a few seconds of buffering, dozens of memos were displayed in a row.

Damn surveillance.

Wasn’t it just picking a fight to question the number of times he went out when he wasn’t even under house arrest?

The first memo that caught his eye was surprisingly fresh.

As expected, extremely private records. There, the ‘human’ side of his father, which he had never seen in the seven years since his memory began, was sparsely buried.

Asset seizure – a truly vicious and effective punishment.

Losing material possessions in a materialistic city, if this isn’t a shackle, what is?

Was leaving the hidden account intact some kind of last mercy? Or mockery?

Even a rat will bite a person when cornered, so they must have left a breathing hole. He’s that kind of person.

There weren’t many other meaningful records. Most of them were roughly scribbled memos, as if trying not to forget simple appointments or his own thoughts.

All of them were closely related to his daily life. Calculations of living expenses that had nothing to do with the Return flight, or price trends of essential items.

The earliest date at the top was from about 20 years ago to 3 years before his death, sparsely continuing. Mu-hae sat on the floor and checked his father’s records one by one.

It was quite ridiculous. He had rummaged through the private life of someone who always kept a straight face with an insensitive expression, but Mu-hae didn’t feel any closer to him.

Five years old. Even when Mu-hae lost his memory and was left alone outside the city and then returned, the pad only had memos such as ‘screw thread check’.

Nowhere in the numerous records did Mu-hae even exist.