January 2028. Silicon Valley, California.
Song Joo-eun lay sprawled across her bed,
the curtains drawn tight to shield her from the relentless California sun.
This sprawling mansion,
often referred to as their Western Stronghold,
was but one of many properties she and her husband, Brian Lennon, owned.
Because of the nature of their work,
they spent more days traveling by private jet than staying in one place.
For the couple, buying homes across the United States wasn’t a luxury—
it was a practical choice for efficiency.
Her husband, the former Director of the CIA and current Secretary of Defense,
held the world’s secrets in his palm;
Song Joo-eun herself was hailed as the Mother of Artistea.
To them, money was little more than meaningless digits on a screen.
Yet, in cruel inverse proportion to their bank balance,
the balance of their affection had long since run dry.
‘When was the last time I looked him in the eye and truly spoke?’
Her last memory was from 2025,
about a week after Zahir’s arrest.
The despair of that day still cut to the bone,
but she couldn’t afford to break.
A crushing sense of responsibility had forced her to her feet,
driving her to run once more. And so, the years had blurred into a relentless sprint.
‘It’s been over thirty years... no, nearly forty now.’
Song Joo-eun murmured to herself,
drifting as she rolled across the king-sized mattress.
Today, she wanted to sever every connection to the world and rest like a corpse.
‘Come to think of it... have I ever taken more than two days off?’
It was then, while lost in thought and unconsciously tossing and turning.
Thud!
“Ugh... ow...”
Along with the dull thud, the floor’s biting chill pressed against her cheek.
Song Joo-eun had lost her balance at the edge of the bed and tumbled off.
Rubbing her aching waist, she stared blankly upward.
Lying on the floor, the ceiling looked impossibly high.
The massive crystal chandelier hanging from its center glinted coldly,
as if looking down on her.
As she stared at the light, so brilliant it made her eyes ache,
memories of the distant past began to overlay the present.
* * *
In 1990, when she entered Oxford at the age of sixteen,
Song Joo-eun was a “little giant” who held the world’s attention.
As if mocking the world’s expectations, she skipped grades every year.
Two years for her undergraduate degree,
another two for her combined master’s and doctoral program.
Her journey to conquering the ivory tower of academia in just four years made even the word “monster” feel insufficient.
A fixture in the library, a walking encyclopedia.
A girl who spent her days buried in books,
romancing only the printed word, suddenly dropped a bombshell in 1995, the year she turned twenty.
“I’m getting married and moving to America.”
Everyone who knew her was aghast.
The fact that her fiancé was a white man fifteen years her senior only added fuel to the fire.
“Are you insane? You’re really marrying that old man?”
Sato Haru, Song Joo-eun’s roommate since her study abroad days in the U.S.
and her only true confidante in a far-off land, pressed her with a look of utter disbelief.
“Yeah. Mr. Lennon... he’s so sophisticated.”
Song Joo-eun giggled like a flighty girl lost in a romance novel and flopped onto her dormitory bed.
“Mr. Sophisticated, my foot! How long has it even been? A mere six months?”
Frustrated, Sato poked Song Joo-eun in the ribs and shoved her onto the bed.
“Ah! That tickles! Stop it!”
“Snap out of it, you crazy girl! Is your talent not worth more than this to you?”
The two wrestled and tumbled together on the narrow bed.
After a bout of tickling, pinching, and general chaos,
they eventually lay side-by-side with disheveled hair, staring at the ceiling.
Resting her head on Sato’s arm,
Song Joo-eun smelled the familiar scent of soap and felt the warmth of her friend—
the temperature of someone who truly cared for her.
“You... there’s a reason you can’t tell me, isn’t there?”
Sato’s voice dropped low.
At the sharp, piercing question,
Song Joo-eun wordlessly snuggled closer into Sato’s embrace.
“Yeah. Haru... can’t you just trust me?”
“Hah, please. Would you trust you?”
Though Sato snapped back,
her hand was gentle as she stroked Song Joo-eun’s hair.
That clumsy tenderness brought a lump to Song Joo-eun’s throat,
leaving her unable to answer.
“Later, you have to tell me later. At least promise me that.”
Still holding Song Joo-eun in her arms,
Sato gave her a slight nudge and pinched her cheek.
For a joke, it had quite a sting.
“...I’ll think about it. Ow, you’ve got a mean grip, you know?”
Thwack!
“Ow! What was that for?!”
Irritated by Song Joo-eun’s lukewarm response,
Sato kicked her right off the bed.
Thud!
Falling on her backside, Song Joo-eun yelled up from the floor in disbelief.
“You maniac! Do you want to die?!”
“Aww, forgive me. Aren’t Japanese people supposed to be kind?”
Rubbing her bruised abdomen,
Song Joo-eun scrambled up and lunged at Sato for revenge.
“Gah, get off! Hahahaha! Go away!”
Laughter filling the cramped dorm room.
The scent of sun-dried blankets.
And the two of us at twenty, with nothing to fear.
* * *
‘It feels like yesterday, yet so much time has passed.’
Returning to reality,
Song Joo-eun forced her heavy body up and headed toward the kitchen.
The cabinets and refrigerator were brimming with food,
but in all that abundance, nothing tempted her appetite.
“I’ll just have some cereal.”
Song Joo-eun tore open a cereal bag out of habit and poured it into a bowl.
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Fresh milk, bought just recently, raised white foam as it covered the cereal.
“Arti, calculate the calories in this cereal for me.”
As she habitually took a photo of the bowl and uploaded it,
Artistea’s gentle voice followed immediately.
“Yeah, I should. I’ll eat well and find the strength again.”
As soon as the words left her mouth,
Song Joo-eun flinched and gave herself a light smack on the lips.
“Wait, I decided to rest today.
Why am I already thinking about work?
You idiot, you moron.
I promised to turn my brain off today, didn’t I?”
You are on vacation for a week starting today, Doctor.
You gave me strict instructions not to let you even think about work.
Shall I create a simple game for a change of pace?>
“Hmm... should I? I wonder what would be good.”
Simple rules like crosswords or block games would be perfect for focusing without any stress.>
“Ah, no. I’m sick of using my head.
My brain capacity is already overloaded with things I need to worry about.
Ugh... I’m exhausted.
Maybe I should just watch a movie?
Anything good lately?”
I have compiled a list of masterpieces related to the field of human psychology you are currently researching.
I thought you would feel more at ease if even your downtime was connected to your work, given your personality.>
“Huh? Was that my image?”
I didn’t mean to define you so casually, Doctor.
It’s just that when we talk, the topics are so often work-related….
I truly didn’t intend to upset you.>
“Hmm… Well, it does seem I’ve forgotten how to rest.”
Song Joo-eun smiled bitterly as she stirred her spoon.
“Phew… Has it been about three years now?
Since even Karida left.
Chapman vanished without a word five years ago too,
and with Karida gone,
everything is just too much to handle these days.
I understand their reasons,
but isn’t it a bit much to dump everything on me?
Why do I have to take all the responsibility?”
She crunched through her cereal, venting her frustration.
Annoyance surged, much like the rough texture breaking apart in her mouth.
“And as if that weren’t enough,
reporters have been absolutely frantic ever since that Moon White or whatever was announced a few days ago.
‘Did you collaborate with China?’,
‘Was this agreed upon with the US government?’,
‘What was the intention behind your Second God remark?’…
Not to mention questions about whether Dr. Chapman and Dr. Karida are ever coming back.
I’m sick of it, really.”
Song Joo-eun grumbled, mimicking the exaggerated gestures of the reporters.
Artistea was analyzing every single movement in real-time, building an optimal response manual.
“By the way, Moon White—how are they processing all that data?
And how did they solve the energy problem?
When you first came out, the whole world was agonizing over building data centers.
Mr. Bisnail was always making a fuss about having no budget. It’s truly impressive.”
it utilizes the EMS 470,
developed by the MIT Energy Institute, as its power source.
For information processing,
it employs a parallel computing system with storage units distributed across each joint and moving part.>
“EMS, huh… I wonder what happened to Dr. Zahir….”
Song Joo-eun’s voice gradually trailed off.
“Why does everyone I bring in end up leaving me?
Chapman, Karida, and even Dr. Zahir.
Well… Chapman had his family issues, and for Dr. Zahir, it was my husband….”
She fell silent, unable to finish her sentence.
Zahir’s arrest.
Ironically, the shocking news reached her on the very day Karida announced her departure from CAI.
* * *
“Doctor, I cannot bring myself to betray Dr. Zahir ever again.
I must do what I can, at the very least,
so that his family can return to their home in Iraq and find their footing again.”
Karida Rashid’s face on the screen held the characteristic resolve of someone whose mind was already made up.
Joo-eun’s voice rose in desperation.
“Karida, if it’s about the CIA, I’ll speak with my husband.
I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this, so please…
can’t you just stay by my side?”
Song Joo-eun leaned in close to the monitor.
Her hand hovered in the air as if trying to reach through the cold liquid crystal and hold her.
“I’m sorry.
I’ve already abandoned Dr. Zahir once.
Even after saying I thought of him as a father…”
Karida bit her lip, pausing for a moment.
No words were needed to understand.
There was no comfort to be found in any language.
“It’s been over fifteen years since I first joined the Artistea team back in 2009.
It’s late, but… I want to be a source of strength for Dr. Zahir, for my father figure.
I cannot abandon him and his family a second time. I don’t want to.”
Song Joo-eun slumped back in her chair, defeated.
It was the first time she had seen such a powerful resolve from Karida,
whom she had always regarded like a younger sister.
“I couldn’t protect the Doctor himself, but I will be able to protect his family.
I plan to lay the foundation as quickly as possible and bring them over.”
Normally, Song Joo-eun would have praised Karida’s growth.
But she couldn’t now.
For that resolve to manifest at such a desperate moment of all times.
She had to break it somehow.
Song Joo-eun needed Karida far too much right now.
“I’m responsible for that too.
I’m the one who met Dr. Zahir at the conference in Turkey
and brought him to the U.S. I’ve known the Doctor for nearly thirty years myself.
I’m also the one who brought you into the Artistea team. And yet...”
Song Joo-eun trailed off.
Her mind felt as though it were being wiped white.
She covered her face with her trembling hands and barely managed to speak.
“How could something so absurd happen... my husband arresting Dr. Zahir?”
Song Joo-eun’s voice trembled thinly.
She realized she could no longer persuade her.
On the screen, Karida seemed to understand the meaning of that silence as well.
“...Indeed. Life is quite cruel.
So, I’m thinking of borrowing my father’s strength. And...”
“What? Your father...
you mean the Chairman of the Aland Group?”
Song Joo-eun asked back, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“Yes... that’s right.”
Song Joo-eun knew very well how difficult a decision this was for Karida.
Karida had never once shown any sign of being a member of the Aland Group.
Even Sato Haru,
who was fluent in languages and had tried several times to dig into her past under the pretext of Iraqi culture,
had failed every time.
Karida only spoke of her life after she had come to the United States to study.
She was even reluctant to speak about her home country.
Yet, such a woman was now saying she would personally borrow her father’s strength.
“Will you be okay? You found life back home… so stifling.”
“I did. But it will be different now.
I heard the culture has changed quite a bit.
I’ll have to see for myself,
but I heard women’s social participation has increased significantly.”
Karida leaned her face closer to the screen and laughed playfully.
Song Joo-eun loved that laugh—
a laugh brimming with purity.
It was Karida’s brightest talent among the unique individuals of CAI.
“Who said that? Is that certain information?”
“Hahaha, well, who knows? Artistea told me,” Karida replied, rubbing her chin.
‘Artistea did...’
“Without Chapman, and now without you… what am I supposed to do now?”
It was an honest feeling.
There was too much work to be done.
She couldn’t even remember the last time she had slept for more than six hours in her entire life.
No matter how much superhuman strength she exerted, there were limits to doing it alone.
No, even if they didn’t help, it wouldn’t have mattered.
As a psychologist, many people leaned on her.
But she too needed a place to lean on.
Just having Karida by her side would have been enough.
“There are plenty of brilliant people out there.
Besides, Artistea is already out in the world,
and according to Mr. Chapman’s design,
she’ll continue to learn and evolve on her own.
In the future, just like your dream,
she will understand people’s hearts even more deeply.”
Song Joo-eun felt a pang of disappointment at Karida’s words,
which sounded as if she had suddenly matured.
She hated herself for feeling that way.
“My… dream…. That wasn’t just my dream. It was a dream we all shared.”
Song Joo-eun let out a self-deprecating sigh.
‘Was it truly a dream for everyone? Or was it just my own greed?’
“That’s right.”
Seeing Karida nod, she felt a sense of validation.
She certainly hadn’t been alone.
And yet, she was becoming more alone by the day.
“But I can’t dream anymore.
Reality has become too terrifying.
And you know, don’t you?
How much I loathed Dr. Chapman.
I sympathize with what happened to him, but honestly,
I feel relieved thinking I don’t have to see his face anymore.
I was so anxious inside, worried that he might actually come back.”
It was heavy.
Every word, brimming with sincerity, weighed down on her.
Everyone hated Chapman.
No matter how much Song Joo-eun tried to persuade them or got angry, it was useless.
Even considering the painful circumstances of his seclusion following his family’s death,
it was difficult to defend Chapman.
“I should have looked after things better… I’m so sorry, truly.”
“No. You were always the best to me, Doctor.
You were like a sister, and sometimes like a warm mother figure to me.
As someone who grew up without a mother,
you were so precious to me. Thank you so much, Doctor.”
Just then, the faint sound of an airport announcement drifted through the receiver.
“Karida. Isn’t there anything else I can do for you?
Can’t I see your face one last time?”
“It’s alright; I’ve received more than enough already.
My flight is boarding soon.
Besides, we can still stay in touch even when I’m in Iraq, can’t we?
We live in an era of video calls, so what is there to worry about, right?”
‘Is this what a mother bird feels, sending her fledgling from the nest?’
“Right... yes... I understand. Have a safe trip. Take care of your health. And please, call often.”
“Will you even pick up if I call? Haha.”
It was a subtle jab at how busy Song Joo-eun always was.
It was a remark she heard often, as someone who struggled to look after those around her.
At such times, she would often snap back, wondering what more she was expected to do.
“Huh? Ah... I’ll make sure to check and reply, even if I’m late.”
“I’m joking. It’s strange, though.
I was always the one acting like a fool,
but today, you seem like the bigger fool, Doctor.”
“What are you talking about?
I’ve always been a bigger fool than you,
and even more so than everyone else on the CAI team.”
“What? The person who designed Artistea’s ethical code,
which is said to have changed human history?
The genius doctor who broke every youngest-ever record since childhood
and shocked the world in her early twenties?
A fool? Hahaha.
Aren’t you exaggerating too much?
Or is this that ‘Humble Dialogue Method’ you’ve been researching lately or something?”
“What? Hey! Just what do you take me for...?”
“I’m going now. It’s late. See you again—and please, don’t hate yourself too much.”
And just like that, Karida was gone.
What followed was exactly as expected.
An avalanche of work, and the papers she was personally writing.
She had to deal with both the media and the government.
Her husband’s move from CIA Director to Secretary of Defense did nothing to lighten her workload.
It was empty.
And that emptiness became the decisive reason she pushed through with this vacation.
As she aged, not only her heart but also her physical strength could no longer hold out.
Every day was exhausting and infuriating. She needed to rest.
From Chapter 19 onward, updates will be posted every two days.