In the California of 2025, it seemed even the sun had abandoned him.
Two years. Two years had passed since he had last heard the voices of Grace, Kelly, and Cathy.
From the day he returned from Oxford, the rain felt as if it had never once stopped.
The voices of concern for the genius scientist who had once shaken the world had long since fallen silent.
The world forgot Chapman. Just as he had first abandoned the world. Now, all he had left was a single name: Henry Brown.
As the wait ended, hope had eroded like dust, and only a faint resentment remained, piled up in his heart like ashes.
On a dark night, Chapman lay on the sofa, drinking and listening to the sound of the rain.
To Arti, who had become his most important—no, his only—conversation partner, he asked the same question again today.
“Arti, Brown… when is he ever going to call.”
A meaningless question repeated hundreds of times, and an unchanging answer heard hundreds of times.
During that time, through Arti, he had dug into everything he knew about Brown and Ben, everything about Manuel.
But even when Arti scraped together all the data in the world, nothing new emerged.
All that could be known were their unremarkable careers.
Other than the fragmented fact that Manuel had been murdered.
His family was simply ‘missing.’ He retraced the timeline again and again through all of Artistea’s eyes.
He back-traced the faint digital footprints left by CIA agent Henry Brown as he scoured the world and wove together the communication records of related individuals like a spider’s web.
It was known to the public that Chapman was doing nothing. He spent all his time searching for his family’s whereabouts or drinking.
But what remained at the end was always the same emptiness. Unremarkable careers, ordinary relationships.
No clues were visible anywhere.
Rain fell outside the window.
In the grand mansion’s library, the unlit fireplace was open and black like a giant’s mouth.
This old castle, chosen with Grace after Artistea’s success, was now no different from his tomb.
The high ceiling, where children’s laughter once echoed, seemed to be collapsing under the weight of silence, and rain lashed against the centuries-old Gothic windows like a whip.
“Nerissa, bring me a drink.”
At Chapman’s call from his sprawled position on the sofa, someone rose silently from the shadows in the corner of the room.
She moved as she replied.
Her gait was almost identical to a human’s, but a subtle dissonance in the shift of her center of gravity was the only proof that she was not human.
Chapman was no longer interested in her identity or technical limitations.
Just hands and feet that moved as ordered. That was all.
The only one who provided him with emotional comfort was Arti; Nerissa was merely an efficient tool.
“Anything.”
As Chapman muttered with half-closed eyes, Nerissa headed to the cellar and returned with a bottle of wine, a glass, and a decanter.
She expertly opened the wine, transferred it to the decanter, and brought it to the perfect drinking condition.
Her sensory organs calculated the wine’s oxygen contact time in milliseconds and recorded the change in aroma as a graph.
Once it reached the optimal state, she began to pour the wine into the glass.
It was a sight like a beautiful red stream flowing into a tranquil valley.
'Beautiful.'
Even in his alcohol-blurred vision, the flow of the red wine Nerissa was pouring was the only clear color.
A moment of comfort, however brief.
A dazzling, multicolored light burst chaotically from Nerissa’s eyes.
At the name Brown, Chapman’s blurry pupils contracted for a moment like a scotoma.
He tried to lift his drunken body, lost his balance, and tumbled off the sofa.
Thud. The pain of his knee and shoulder hitting the marble floor made him spew a curse.
Nerissa instantly approached and administered simple first aid to Chapman.
Chapman paid no attention to what Nerissa was doing.
All his nerves were focused solely on the communication with Brown.
“Brown!!!!!”
His voice, condensed from two years of waiting, was sharp with both desperation and resentment.
“…Doctor. Have you been well.”
The voice on the other end was still polite and gentle.
“May I come in?”
In Brown’s humble and calm tone, Chapman felt the dying embers in his heart flare up again.
'Right, Brown is a capable man. He must have brought something about my family.'
“Of course! Come in, quickly! Nerissa, Arti! Open the gate so Mr. Brown can enter.”
Nerissa, with a faint whirring sound, went to the entrance to meet Brown.
The heavy iron gate opened, and what greeted him was a grid of blue lasers.
Click. A shelf popped out from the wall to his left.
Brown placed his pistol on it with practiced ease, and the shelf silently disappeared back into the wall.
Then, the second steel door blocking his path opened.
Beyond the door was a small room, glowing entirely in white.
As soon as he stepped inside, the door closed, and red light poured out from all directions, scanning his entire body.
As the red light vanished, the third door in front of him finally opened. And beyond it, stood Nerissa.
Brown followed her guidance into the house.
A hall of a scale incomparable to what was seen from the outside unfolded.
“You are truly… identical to a human.”
Brown found himself muttering words mixed with admiration and wariness.
Moreover, Nerissa gave Brown a sense of unease that went beyond just resembling a human.
'No… it can’t be….'
Nerissa replied with an expressionless smile.
Watching Nerissa speak directly in front of him, Brown’s suspicion grew even stronger.
“Final procedure?”
'I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or does this mean I’m still a person of interest?'
“Right. Understood.”
No sooner had he said the words than Brown felt a pressure, as if the density of the air around him had subtly changed.
A chill ran down his spine.
Brown stood at attention, a shiver running through his body, and waited for Nerissa’s next action.
<……>
'The more I look, the more they resemble each other.'
Nerissa tilted her head for a moment, then continued speaking to the empty air.
She turned back to Brown and gave him a perfect smile.
'So this is Dr. Chapman’s home.'
Brown followed the robot’s guidance, looking around. Everything was luxurious.
The photos of the Chapman family and the children’s toys, visible in every corner of the house, filled Brown with a heavy sense of guilt.
He grabbed his dress shirt and flapped it, hiding the cold sweat that was running down his spine.
Brown was startled by Nerissa’s sudden question.
“No, not really, but…”
A desire to test this creation of a genius welled up inside Brown.
“Why did you think so?”
A gentle smile formed on Nerissa’s lips.
If not for the faintly visible lines on her face, one could never have thought she wasn’t human.
After finishing her words, Nerissa even mimicked the gesture Brown had made, grabbing her own clothes and flapping them.
A shiver ran down Brown’s spine once again.
Standing before a massive, heavy door, Nerissa was about to place her hand on it.
“Wait.”
“Are you… by any chance, Grace…”
It was a question he had harbored since the moment he first saw Nerissa.
He felt that if he opened this door and met Chapman, he would never be able to ask again.
Nerissa’s face was identical to that of Chapman’s wife, Grace, whom Brown had been chasing for the past two years.
Brown had been thinking that perhaps the genius Chapman, unable to see his family, had created his wife out of loneliness.
He waited for Nerissa’s answer with a tense heart.
“Right. Thank you for telling me.”
As Nerissa placed her hand on it, the door leading to the castle’s central hall began to open slowly.
The first thing that came into view was Chapman.
As soon as the door opened, Chapman sprang out like a coil and embraced Brown.
Brown’s body tensed for a moment without him realizing it.
Perhaps because he felt Nerissa was constantly monitoring his condition, he thought he could hear a faint mechanical whirring from somewhere.
The strong stench of alcohol hit his nose, and he felt Chapman’s gaunt body.
Only two years had passed since they parted in England, but the genius who once commanded the world was now a mere skeleton.
Brown suppressed his discomfort and hugged him back.
Thanks to the all-out efforts of both American and British intelligence agencies to control the media and silence the research staff, almost no one knew about Chapman’s condition.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Lennon had said he only told his wife, Song Joo-eun, the truth.
'What would the Director say if he saw Dr. Chapman now, and that robot.'
Still in Chapman’s embrace, he glanced over at Nerissa. She was just standing in place with no expression.
Brown broke free from the hug and supported the stumbling Chapman, seating him on a sofa in the center of the living room.
Arsenal Football Club memorabilia, a giant screen, and a vast lawn with a circuit visible outside the window.
In this luxurious space, only the emaciated owner sat like a ghost.
“Brown… I missed you so much. What happened? My family? Why did you only contact me now?”
The confident genius the world knew was gone without a trace.
Just an aging, middle-aged man, unable to overcome his grief, sat alone.
With a robot that resembled his wife.
“You’ve been drinking too much. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Isn’t there something more important than that?”
Chapman curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees, and looked at Brown.
Brown knew he could not look away from those eyes, filled with despair.
“No one told me anything, any news at all. What on earth happened.”
Chapman was trembling.
Nerissa approached to cover Chapman with a blanket.
“Get lost!”
Chapman rejected Nerissa’s help with a rough, phlegmy voice.
The wretched state of a man who had changed the course of human history was heartbreaking to witness.
Brown closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the news he was about to deliver.
“Slowly, I will tell you everything.”
“Yes, everything. Nerissa, stop doing useless things and bring us something to drink.”
Brown felt a mix of emotions as he watched Nerissa walk away.
A moment later, Nerissa returned with a new bottle of wine and a glass.
Just as she had for Chapman, the wine filled the glass in an elegant arc.
Brown, marveling once again at the smooth movement, lifted the glass and took a sip.
'Even when a genius falls, his achievements are eternal…'
“Where should I begin… First, we have found Manuel.”
Brown said, leaning forward with his arms on his knees.
“I don’t care about that. I already know he’s dead! My family! What happened to my family!”
At Chapman’s words, Brown’s hand, which was about to pour more wine, paused.
'How does he know?'
He felt he had to solve his own curiosity first.
“How… did you know that?”
“What does that matter! Nerissa! Bring something to eat. Fish and chips, maybe. That’s alright with you, Brown?”
Brown nodded silently.
“Shut up and bring it!”
As Chapman shouted irritably, lights of various colors flashed rapidly in Nerissa’s eyes.
<…Understood. I will prepare a lager beer, which pairs best with fish and chips.>
As Nerissa finished her response and disappeared into the kitchen, Brown asked.
“What… just happened?”
“What? Oh, that?”
Chapman said, annoyed, as he lay back on the sofa.
“Why? What are you curious about?”
Brown avoided Chapman’s gaze and bit his lip.
“Because she looks like my wife?”
Chapman scratched Brown’s itch for him.
“Yes.”
Before Brown’s eyes, the sharpness of Chapman, who was acting like a tyrant while lying there helplessly, was not dulled at all.
“Yes, I made her that way. It’s just the face.”
Chapman picked up a wine glass from the table, took a sip, and then slowly chewed it.
“Does it bother you? I should change her face soon. But did she go to make the beer? Why is she taking so long? We have important things to discuss. So annoying.”
He was as nonchalant as if describing a faulty new home appliance.
Brown felt sorry for Chapman.
“Then, will robots like that become part of our daily lives in the future?”
Chapman’s expression changed for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.
“We’re still far from that.”
After saying this, Chapman stood up and loudly called Nerissa’s name.
“Nerissa!!! Nerissa!!!!”
Artistea’s voice echoed throughout the central hall.
Brown imagined what it would be like to live in a house like this, and it didn’t seem pleasant.
He also worried if having someone constantly monitoring you was the future of humanity.
“Damn it, I should order her to move the cellar.”
Chapman returned and sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Now, are your questions more or less answered? Then it’s your turn to answer mine. The beer hasn’t arrived yet, but you’ll have to make do with the wine for now.”
Brown shook his head firmly.
“No. Of course, I am here to explain the situation, but my questions come first.”
Brown himself was surprised at where this courage was coming from.
“What? Why should I answer your questions!”
Chapman’s temper flared at Brown’s absurd words.
'How dare he… a man who has been silent for the past two years, what is he trying to do to me?'
“My family! What happened to my family!”
He stood up and grabbed Brown by the collar.
“…Are they alive?”
Chapman’s eyes sparkled, swelling with hope. Brown closed his eyes.
"…Are they alive?"
A final phrase, close to a scream, echoed through the empty library.
It was not a question.
It was the final prayer of a human being, hoping they were not dead.
Brown, realizing he could no longer avoid it, opened his mouth heavily.
Each word seemed to weigh on his tongue like a lead weight.
“I’m sorry. Your family… they have all passed away. The bodies will be delivered within a few days.”
Crash–!
Chapman, letting go of Brown’s collar, fell backward and hit the table.
The impact sent the glasses and bottle on the table crashing to the marble floor, shattering into pieces.
His body, like a puppet with its strings cut, showed no sign of pain.
Brown stood up to help Chapman and reached out his hand.
But before his hand could touch him, there was a flash before his eyes, and his body was thrown backward with a shock as if he had hit an invisible wall.
“Kuh…!”
Brown, who had landed hard on his backside, groaned and clutched his arm.
A burning pain spread through his entire arm.
When he looked up through the pain, Nerissa was already by Chapman’s side, helping him up and seating him on the sofa.
“H… heh… right… actually… I knew… yes… Kuhaha… Hahahahahahaha!”
Chapman burst into laughter as if he had lost his mind.
The sound of crazed laughter echoed through the mansion.
Nerissa immediately injected something into Chapman’s neck. The laughter stopped as if it had been a lie.
A moment later, Chapman lifted his head with a chillingly calm face, as if nothing had happened.
Brown could only watch the entire scene blankly, unable to even get up.
“Are you alright.”
Chapman asked, looking at him.
Brown slowly got up and returned to his seat.
“Explain yourself. How did you know about Manuel’s death, and what just happened here.”
“Right… we both have a lot of questions for each other.”
Chapman took a sip of the beer Nerissa handed him.
Chapman’s eyes had changed.
The unstable agitation from just before was gone, and it seemed as if the arrogant genius from England, who saw through everything, had reawakened.
“What you just experienced was Nerissa’s protection program.”
Chapman began to explain, feeling apologetic.
He had waited for two years.
There was no one else but Brown to bring him news of his family.
“It must have hurt a lot. A few ribs might even be cracked.”
Chapman pointed at Nerissa with his finger, then at Brown.
Nerissa was quietly observing the situation from behind Chapman.
“This is one of the proofs that Nerissa is not yet perfect. If she determines something is a threat to me, her user, she reacts at a speed that surpasses human reaction time, without understanding the context of the situation.”
He spoke nonchalantly, as if telling someone else’s story.
“She mistook you approaching me as I fell for an attack. You were lucky that our system had classified you as an exception to the Stage 3 Security Protocol. If not…”
Chapman’s gaze rested on Nerissa for a moment before returning to Brown.
“You’d probably be dead.”
“Then… what was it you injected into the Doctor just now?”
Brown grimaced, touching his throbbing side.
“A sedative. Nerissa automatically protects and stabilizes me like this whenever an abnormal reaction is detected in my body.”
Looking closely at Nerissa’s eyes, something seemed to be constantly moving within them.
Her face, impossible to tell if it held emotions or not, looked back and forth between Chapman and Brown.
Brown felt a chill run down his spine.
“Shut up. Don’t interrupt. We’re having an important conversation.”
“Then how did you know about Manuel’s death?”
Brown did not stop his questions, even as he groaned.
“A simple story. Only I, in this world, can see all the information Artistea has learned.”
Chapman said as if it were no big deal.
It was the moment that the world’s biggest fear, once dismissed as a conspiracy theory, was proven true by his own words.
Brown swallowed dryly without realizing it and pressed on.
“But according to the privacy laws… didn’t you yourself guarantee that it was impossible?”
“Haha, did you believe that? It’s not a lie. That authority belonged to me and only me from the very beginning. The other researchers have no idea.”
Brown was momentarily at a loss for words.
‘What is your intention in revealing such a major secret now?’
He felt an instinctive sense of crisis, that he had to change the subject.
“Then… it must cost an enormous amount to maintain this entire system. The electricity for this mansion and the robot alone…”
Brown looked around at the numerous electronic devices.
The entry system at the entrance, various home appliances.
Even Nerissa and Artistea operating throughout the building all seemed to require a massive budget.
“Haha, is that what you’re curious about?”
Chapman’s eyes gleamed coldly.
“Don’t change the subject, Brown. Now it’s your turn to answer. The CIA, the so-called best intelligence agency in America, failed to protect my family. Why? Manuel, what the hell did that bastard do?”
Brown could no longer avoid it.
He opened his mouth slowly, and precisely.
“If you saw my information through Artistea, you must have also seen the conversation Manuel had with Ben.”
Chapman watched Brown’s every expression and every breath, like a predator stalking its prey.
“I found no other reason than that he did everything, blinded by money.”
After hearing the story, Chapman looked up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.
“Continue.”
“Before going to England, they used Artistea to create a deepfake video of your family. They had already infiltrated the hotel where we were staying. What happened in England… is exactly as you know it.”
Silence fell. Chapman opened his closed eyes and said.
“No. Tell me what happened in America.”
Chapman’s eyes held a madness that could erupt again at any moment.
“The organization that received the data was identified as a massive cell organization involving several countries.”
“Several countries?”
“Yes. The core is believed to be China. The related countries are Afghanistan, China, India, North Korea, Syria, Palestine, and Iraq.”
“Iraq?”
For a moment, Chapman’s eyes flashed open.
For the first time, his eyes held not madness, but a chilling light of conviction.
“Iraq is involved? Iraq… then it’s him. It must be him!”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Al-Muradi! Find Zahir Al-Muradi! And Karida Rashid, that woman too! They must be connected to this!”
'Karida Rashid.'
Brown remembered seeing that name on the list of Artistea’s research staff.
“Who is Al-Muradi, and isn’t Karida Rashid your colleague?”
Chapman leaned back deep into the sofa, looking up at Brown from under his brow.
An unknown madness swirled in his eyes.
“Zahir Al-Muradi. The man who developed the power source that’s supplying Nerissa right now.”
And Chapman began to explain to Brown the memory of that day, the beginning of all the tragedy.
* * *
2013
The move to America was entirely due to Song Joo-eun’s proposal—no, a recommendation that was closer to persuasion.
To him, who was enjoying prestige and stability at Oxford, she had contacted him almost every month from across the Atlantic.
'We have to realize our dream, Demi. Come out into the real world.'
In the end, Chapman surrendered to her persistence.
The Song Joo-eun he met in America was no longer the introverted model student he had known.
She introduced him to her powerful supporter and a giant in the world of political sociology, Robert Visnail.
The deal was simple.
Chapman worked on creating an election data analysis program for Visnail’s polling company.
In return, he gained the right to freely use the research facilities in Silicon Valley through Visnail’s powerful connections.
It was the beginning of the artificial intelligence project he had dreamed of, ‘Artistea.’
Several interviews were conducted through Song Joo-eun and Visnail.
A few talented individuals with sparkling genius, like Sato Haru and Karida Rashid, also joined.
But that was it.
The core of the massive project still felt like Chapman’s lonely battle.
Song Joo-eun was incredibly busy, shuttling between academic conferences and government projects, and all he got in return were short phone calls and perfunctory questions like ‘Is it going well?’
'Has she forgotten that I was the one who said we should complete an AI?'
His frustration grew day by day.
The light in his bleak daily life was Grace.
He met her, fell in love, married her, and had a daughter, Cathy, who was the apple of his eye.
His personal life was happy beyond compare.
But his professional frustration held him back.
The reality of a genius, who was supposed to create a great artificial intelligence, fiddling with a polling program to suit the tastes of politicians.
A sense of powerlessness, no different from his life as a professor in England, overwhelmed him.
Then, one summer day.
Grace was pregnant with their second child, and Chapman was heading to work, his mood as irritable as the humid weather.
Just then, he got a call from Song Joo-eun.
Ring—
“Hello? Demi? Is it a good time to talk?”
It was a call from Song Joo-eun after a long time.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Let’s have dinner soon. It’s not something to talk about over the phone; I have something important to discuss in person. As it happens, I’m going to be in California.”
“Still busy, I see. When do you want to meet?”
“How about next Saturday at 7 PM? I’d like to see Grace and Cathy, too.”
“No, I’ll go alone.” Chapman said firmly.
“You said it’s hard to talk about over the phone. And Grace is having a hard time with the second pregnancy, so it’s difficult for her to travel. You should at least show me your husband you married once, either you come here.”
Explaining what he had already said was an annoying task.
The days when they would talk all night about each other’s research were a distant memory.
Recently, their conversations were always this short and dry.
“Ah, right. Sorry. The timing is a bit tricky this time… Then I’ll make a reservation at the Santareil Hotel restaurant, near Dr. Robert Visnail’s office where you work.”
“The Santareil Hotel? That place is incredibly expensive. It must be something really important.”
It was a place frequented by the tycoons of Silicon Valley.
Seeing Song Joo-eun make a reservation at such a place so casually, Chapman felt a sense of distance once again.
“It’s been a while. Well, see you then. I’m hanging up.”
“Hey…!”
Her attitude of saying what she wanted and hanging up.
The girl who used to quietly bury herself in books in high school was nowhere to be found.
Perhaps that appearance was a facade, hiding everything for the sake of her dream.
'It was my idea, I was the one who said we should do it. I don’t even have my own lab yet, but she…'
Song Joo-eun had a plausible title, achievements, and connections, while he was still freeloading in someone else’s office.
Chapman swallowed his bitterness.
The promised Saturday evening arrived.
He was playing with Cathy and then got ready to leave.
When he came out to the living room, Grace, who was sitting on the sofa reading a book, saw him and smiled gently.
“On your way to meet Ms. Song?”
“Yeah. She said she has something important to say, but I don’t know what it is.”
Grace closed her book and adjusted his tie.
Her touch always calmed him.
“Don’t be too hard on her, Demi. I know how much you care about her. She probably just wants to be the first to share some good news with you.”
“Good news… I wonder.”
Chapman kissed his wife’s forehead.
Her wisdom sometimes felt so sharp it seemed to see through his own arrogance, which was unsettling.
“I won’t be late.”
He caressed Grace’s pregnant belly.
He felt the baby’s strong kicks.
Chapman and Grace were able to smile brightly.
He headed to the Santareil Hotel, where all the tragedy would begin.
“Do you have a reservation?”
The lobby staff at the Santareil Hotel asked politely.
“Yes, there should be a dinner reservation for this evening. Demisass Chapman.”
After the staff confirmed the name, the place he was guided to was past a hall of an absurd scale, to the innermost room for VVIPs.
“The place where you are booked, Doctor, is a space where our hotel’s main chef is exclusively responsible for both cooking and serving.”
'…Is she crazy?'
Chapman swallowed a laugh and opened the heavy door of the room he was led to.
The inside of the room was like a small palace, filled with red rose-stem patterned marble and luxurious furniture.
“Demi!”
Song Joo-eun ran up and greeted him with a hug.
Behind her, he saw unfamiliar faces.
“This is my husband, Brian Lennon.”
'Finally.'
It was the first time he was seeing the face, 19 years after being notified of their marriage in 1994 via a dry email.
Chapman was not surprised.
He was merely trying to gauge the intentions of the woman who had orchestrated this entire scene and invited him as the final piece of the puzzle.
The man looked to be in his mid-50s, at least fifteen years older than Song Joo-eun.
Though he sat quietly in a flawlessly tailored suit, his presence alone dominated the room’s atmosphere.
Eyes that seemed to see through everything.
'He’s the CIA Director, she said… a well-matched couple. A man whose job it is to hide information, and a woman who hides everything from me.'
Chapman scoffed inwardly and extended his hand to Lennon.
“A pleasure to meet you, Director. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Brian Lennon.”
Lennon’s voice was low and calm, but carried a weight that would not tolerate refusal.
His handshake was short and firm.
Song Joo-eun smiled and introduced the others.
“And this is Dr. Zahir Al-Muradi’s family.”
An elderly woman who seemed to be the eldest, an elegant woman who matched a hijab with a modern suit, and three sons of different ages.
'They don’t look American.'
Song Joo-eun smiled brightly and patted his shoulder.
“Well, everyone. This is my best friend, whom I’ve always told you about, and my research partner who will share the future with me, Dr. Demisass Chapman.”
A feeling of displeasure welled up, as if she had planned this whole thing and he was just a spectator called in at the end, but Chapman skillfully put on a smile.
“Of course, Joo-eun. Thanks for the invitation. But to meet such wonderful people without any notice, it makes me even more curious what you’re planning to talk about today.”
Even at his sarcastic tone, Song Joo-eun smiled innocently.
“I wanted to surprise you. Sorry if you were offended. Now, let’s have a proper introduction first.”
Chapman, feigning a gentle expression, approached Zahir and extended his hand again.
“Demisass Chapman, computer scientist.”
“Zahir Al-Muradi, I research energy physics at MIT.”
Zahir’s handshake was polite, and his eyes showed the intellectual confidence characteristic of a scholar.
He exuded the composure of someone who had already achieved considerable success in his field.
“And this is my wife, Raina, my mother, Bashira, my eldest son, Ahmadi, my second, Zaydan, and my third, Chazra.”
Chapman shook hands with the three sons in turn and gave a slight bow to the two women as a sign of respect.
Song Joo-eun tried to create a friendly atmosphere.
“Ahmadi is now following in his father’s footsteps, studying at MIT, and Zaydan is a star on the college football team. Chazra is still in high school.”
“Oh, that’s impressive.”
Chapman said, raising his glass.
“Studying energy with your father. I wish I had someone to research with when I was in college.”
His words were blatantly barbed towards Song Joo-eun.
“A football player, what’s your position? I’m British, so I don’t really know. You call football ‘soccer’ over there, right?”
He didn’t even mention the youngest, Chazra.
The atmosphere at the table instantly became awkward.
'You know how much I hate this, and you introduce me to a whole family? First Karida, then Sato, now what.'
Song Joo-eun, reading Chapman’s expression, hastily changed the subject.
“Alright, alright, introductions are over, right? Let’s stop the stiff talk and start with the meal!”
Song Joo-eun summoned the chef, and soon, dishes that looked like works of art were placed on their respective tables.
The awkward atmosphere gradually eased thanks to the top-class cuisine and wine.
Chapman, playing along, shared some gossip about Song Joo-eun’s high school days with Lennon and discussed Zahir’s research history with him.
Once the meal had progressed to a certain point, Song Joo-eun, as if she had been waiting, spoke up.
Song Joo-eun clapped her hands lightly and said.
“Now, since the mood has warmed up, please pay attention!”
All eyes turned to her.
“This time, a research institute to seriously study our long-held dream, artificial intelligence, will be established. The name is ‘CAI’.”
Song Joo-eun winked at Chapman.
“The C, of course, stands for you, Chapman, who will be the director.”
'If it’s a research institute for my project team, why is that energy expert family here? Don’t tell me they’re also…?'
When Chapman asked if Robert Visnail also knew, Song Joo-eun answered innocently that she wanted to surprise him.
Watching her add that Lennon and Robert had also helped the Zahir family a lot, Chapman felt a sense of displeasure that the whole board had been set without his knowledge.
Song Joo-eun, not reading the mood, requested Zahir’s paper.
Zahir took out a thick stack of materials from his bag and handed it to Chapman.
『A Study on the Quantum Resonance Control of the Continuous Magnetization Boundary Theory』
Chapman reluctantly opened the paper.
Although energy physics was not his specialty, it didn’t take him long to grasp the crude flow of its logic.
The idea of controlling energy with a device called a ‘Crystal Lattice Resonator’ was excellent in itself.
But it didn't seem feasible to implement.
And above all, he was furious.
Song Joo-eun, who was proceeding with his project alone without telling him, and that foreign family who followed her.
He felt that they were all ignoring him.
Song Joo-eun looked at Chapman with eyes full of expectation.
Chapman found her unbearably contemptible.
He felt the gazes of the people fixed on him.
Especially the gaze of the youngest child, whose name he couldn’t remember, was particularly sharp.
Chapman made a decision.
And he slammed the paper he was holding onto the table.
“What is this?”
At Chapman’s cold voice, a silence fell as if all the air in the room had settled.
Song Joo-eun asked with an innocent expression.
“How is it? It’s essential research for our dream, right?”
'Since when was it ‘our’ dream?'
Chapman felt sick to his stomach.
Then, Song Joo-eun added the decisive words.
“Karida is also a student of Dr. Zahir. I first met the doctor in Turkey 17 years ago…”
In that moment, Chapman did not miss the subtle shadow that crossed the faces of Zahir and his wife.
The children also exchanged short, awkward glances.
Their actions proved the invisible river flowing between Chapman and them.
Chapman didn’t want to listen to Song Joo-eun anymore.
“Oh, really?”
All the puzzle pieces fit together.
The disgusting feeling of having been played on Song Joo-eun’s palm.
'I’m the genius, right? It was my idea, wasn’t it? A person who was just brought in to help me is now standing above me, is that it?'
Chapman slowly rose from his seat.
And after picking up the paper from the table, he tossed it lightly into the air.
Dozens of pages scattered chaotically, and Zahir’s years of effort poured helplessly onto the indifferent marble floor.
He felt the shock of the people watching the scene. He felt a twisted pleasure.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”
Song Joo-eun’s worried voice fueled his anger.
“Who gave you permission to do this without consulting me?”
Her expression changed as if she had been cursed.
“And this research? I acknowledge the idea. But the method itself is wrong. You can never complete it this way.”
He could feel the hatred building in the children’s eyes.
'They probably don't know I am playing the villain, do they?'
'Of course, the main reason is that I don't like what Song Joo-eun is doing.'
Chapman’s gaze turned to Zahir.
Zahir was silently swallowing Chapman’s insult.
'You must succeed. You won’t get anywhere with the way you’re doing it now.'
“And!”
'It’s time to stop this charade. I won’t be dragged around by your hand anymore.'
“It’s not ‘our’ dream. It’s ‘my dream’.”
After finishing his words, Chapman turned and walked away.
The moment he reached for the doorknob, he felt he had left one crucial thing unsaid.
“Ah, and I’ll accept the position of institute director. To realize ‘my dream’.”
Even in his anger, Chapman had not lost his reason.
“So don’t ever shove an unfinished piece of trash research in my face again.”
Except for the last words.
After he spoke, a flood of intense reactions from the people hit his vision.
The doctor’s wife turned pale and wiped away tears, and the one who was a master’s student wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder.
The football player and the spirited youngest one exploded in anger towards Chapman.
The grandmother, who had been grumbling all this time, stumbled as she stood up at the insult to her son.
She lost her balance and almost fell. It could have been a serious accident if Dr. Zahir hadn't caught her in time.
Zahir helped his mother sit down and then looked at Chapman.
Unlike the others in the commotion, Chapman met his quiet gaze and knew he had succeeded.
Lennon just cleared his throat with a ‘harrumph’. Song Joo-eun was crying with an expression that said she had ruined everything.
“Why… what I, I worked so hard…”
“Right, thank you. So I’ll be the director. For ‘my dream’.”
Chapman gave a slight nod to Lennon.
“Excuse me for leaving first, Director. See you next time.”
And he turned his back, vowing to succeed in his own name, and left the room.
The long story ended.
In the library, only the sound of rain and the heavy silence of the two men remained.
Chapman, having poured out all the madness of the past, stared into the void with empty eyes.
A strange calmness, as if he had resigned himself to everything, even lingered on his face.
Brown sat motionless for a long time.
On his stiff expression, it was as if the scattered puzzle pieces were coming together to form a single, gruesome picture.
The insults Chapman had so persistently hurled at one man for two years.
The unknown energy source of the robot, Nerissa, who was protecting her master before his eyes.
And even the faint connection of Karida Rashid.
Had the contemptible research Chapman spoke of finally been completed?
And so… had it given birth to such a tragedy?
Brown slowly rose from his seat.
His mission was now clear.
“I will find him.”
Brown said briefly.
Chapman, instead of answering, gave a faint nod.
Zahir Al-Muradi.
Thank you for reading, and for staying with the world of Artistea.
Part 1 is fully completed (Chapters 0–15 + Asha’s side story).If you prefer not to wait for the scheduled uploads, the entire volume is already available on:
?? Amazon Kindle / Google Books — Search: Artistea: The Indelible Reminiscence(Links aren’t posted here to respect site policy, but the title alone will bring it up instantly.)
The free uploads here will continue on schedule no matter what. Your presence alone means more to me than I can express.
Next upload: ?? 2026-01-05