Before dawn broke, Jin Muhae threw on his usual jacket and stepped outside.Having stayed up all night, his eyes felt gritty, but he wasn’t tired.As he opened the door, he heard a faint stir from the firmly closed study—but for once, Joo-o hadn’t followed, sparing him any fuss.He shook away the memory of that smooth face looking up at him. That kid stuck in his mind more than he liked.I wish he’d stay put until I get back.Should he buy something to eat on the way home? But no shop was open at this hour; the only places lit on Starlight Avenue at night were sketchy dives.In daylight, the slum’s garish colors distracted the eye, but once darkness fell, the streets lost all light and reeked of danger. Every visible window was barred by rusted iron grates. Even Boss Gil’s electronics shop in the distance looked more menacing in the gloom.His place was sealed by a metal shutter from the entrance. The dented panels bore crude graffiti and vulgar tags.BEEEP—!When the piercing doorbell rang,―“Who is it?”came Boss Gil’s tired voice over the intercom.“It’s me.”―“Muhae?”Perhaps surprised by a visitor at this hour, he paused before speaking.After a moment’s silence, the shutter clattered open. In Boss Gil’s hand was a crushed cigarette butt—maybe he’d searched for a smoke.“Someone scribbled shit on my shutter again.”“Damn. The more I wipe, the worse it looks.”“Know who did it?”“No idea. Probably drunk punks. Anyway, what brings you here now?”Though casual, his brow was furrowed—he seemed to have half-expected Muhae.“I need to check something.”“Check… right.”“It’s not about—”“You were at the pawnshop yesterday, right?”Gil cut him off, and Muhae’s own eyebrow shot up. Mentioning the pawnshop meant his guess had been right. His heart sank.“Uh—that is…”Words failed him. He looked around, then fixed his gaze on Boss Gil, who inhaled the cigarette’s acrid smoke as it burned down.“Boss Gil… did you know? That my father was doing this research?”He asked outright—no point beating around the bush.“How much did you see?”Gil asked evenly.“I mean… how much was in those files?”His tone unchanged, there was a strange heat in his eyes—a blend of yearning and obsession slowly gathering there.“Project SOLAR47.”“….”“Crystal Blue. Anomalies.”“….”“Reform. Want me to go on? Which bit interests you?”Gil shut his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they gleamed with a fierce light—hard to believe this was the same old man surviving day to day in the slums.He drew in smoke with a long shhh, then exhaled in a wry smile.“You were more involved than I thought.”The cigarette end burned rapidly.“Even a day like this comes.”With a swipe, he crushed the butt under his slipper against the grimy workshop floor, black ash scattering.“Sit. This’ll take a while.”At last Gil turned, weaving toward the back of his cluttered workshop. Muhae watched him go, clenched the watch on his wrist, and spoke.“Here?”Muhae’s steady gaze wavered.“This sofa’s filthy.”“Dirty enough to fight in, yet you’re picky.”Gil’s incredulous voice echoed around the junk-strewn room.It was the first time Muhae had been offered tea at Boss Gil’s home.Goryeo City was relatively well-off among Comfort Zone domes—starvation was rare—but goods beyond basic rations were expensive or scarce.Cheap ingredients like beast meat could be earned with any labor, but unbroken rice or fresh vegetables were luxuries in the slums. Leaf teas were strictly a middle-class indulgence; Muhae knew Gil wasn’t that sort.“Leaf tea.”“You drink this?”“Sometimes.”He expertly brewed leaves that looked high-end, and even the teapot seemed too fine for its owner’s workshop.“Not sure where to begin.”Gil clicked his tongue and stared out the window. The black night had turned a deep crimson at dawn.“I met your old man in his twenties. Dr. Jeong—Young-yi as we called him—took me in, saying he’d show me something special.”Thus began Gil’s recollection.“The top ten percent of graduates from upper academies go into research. They often stay on as staff, forming private study groups. Yours was one of those, under Master Seong’s name. On the surface, they studied Blue energy mining.”“….”“The moment I saw forbidden documents at Dr. Jeong’s place, I was hooked. I’d grown disgusted with modern life—I’m from Central, you know. Never left the core of the dome.”Clack—Gil sipped his tea, savoring it so quietly the action was almost silent. His tousled hair looked oddly unbalanced.“Surprised? Yeah, right? Ha. Anyway, the three of us became the project’s core. That man of yours—he drew people in. Not for looks or connections, but for his passion.”“Passion,” Muhae echoed. It didn’t fit the pallid face always buried in that study.He watched the steaming tea, then asked in a softer voice, “Was father like that too?”“What do you mean?”“Central-born, I mean.”“No. He was ordinary. Not someone who grew up in these backwaters, at least.”At least he’d lived inside the proper walls of the dome, Gil gestured vaguely.So both his father and Gil had endured tougher lives than he’d known. Even Goryeo’s slums were better than many, yet they paled beside how the elite lived.“I ask again—how much did you see?”“Didn’t read it all, obviously.”“Figured. Your old man left pages of research. But I’m not talking about the content.”“Oh?”Gil frowned, thinking, then drained his cup.“Hmmm—think about what I said: three of us were central to the project. And you never asked about that, did you?”What was he supposed to wonder there? Muhae’s calm mask flickered.Gil sighed, a soft hiss marking a leak in his breath.“Interesting, isn’t it?”“….”“Muhae, we shared everything, but our understanding differed by specialty. Later on, Master Seong handled it all, and we just dove deeper into our parts.”A plausible theory crossed Muhae’s mind.“So that’s why you kept asking… how much I knew?”“Right. To be honest, each of us knew different pieces. Your father’s heirloom might hold more than I ever saw—or, conversely—”“The rest of us might not have recorded everything we knew.”“In that case, it was probably omitted on purpose.”Gil chuckled, as if relief he’d finally found someone to talk sense to.“When Master Seong brought you in, I thought he’d had second thoughts. But he accepted you only because he had expectations—for you, Muhae.”“I don’t understand.”“Doesn’t matter. But if I’m right, this is a test.”“A test?”“Not exactly everyday stuff, is it?”Gil tapped his wrist. Muhae glanced at his watch-clad arm, then stared at his cup in sudden realization—and knocked it over.Clang! The miraculously intact cup spilled tea across the old carpet. The damp warmth touched his feet as he glared at Gil.“You can’t expect someone to entrust an unknown brat for 200,000 dil, can you? Common sense.”“Then what about that money?”“I wanted to see what you’d do. Paid some commission at the pawnshop.”“But what about my money?”Shock and betrayal flashed in Muhae’s eyes. Memories of penny-pinching fights raced through his mind.“That inheritance was both unfinished work handed to you and a tool to test and grow you. Dig through the records, track it down. Now it’s your job, your way.”“So, my money—my money.”“Maybe you’ll discover places we never could…”“My money—204,000 dil.”“Ah, fuck, listen, you little—don’t cut me off. Do you think I’d just eat that cash?”Gil lifted his slipper and kicked Muhae’s shin. Muhae gasped, eyes wide.“You earn that money yourself—204,000 dil, you miser.”“Why would I do that? I’d just take the lump sum and run.”“Really? You wouldn’t?”The loaded question stung Muhae’s teeth together. Though he wouldn’t admit it, when his father’s records flickered before him, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ he felt exhilaration—dangerous, alluring hope blossomed amid worry.“…This is insane.”“It’s your choice. I’ll transfer the funds midweek. Use them to continue the project or squander them—up to you.”Gil picked up the fallen cup and turned away. Muhae pressed his temples, exhaling harshly, and rose from the sofa.“I’ll… go then.”“Bring out some trash on the way.”“Not trash—something to eat?”“You starve, or what?”Muhae shook his head and dusted off his rumpled clothes.“No. It’s just—if I bring snacks, someone’ll be happy to see me.”He thought of that glossy face drooling at food, and clicked his tongue. By now that glutton must be debating whether to peel the wallpaper. Better to bring something to stuff in his mouth.

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