#090
The document stated that the Ministry of Defense wanted to temporarily employ Eden’s “musician” for their overseas events.
It detailed that the musician would need to follow them around for several months, performing at events promoting the Republic of Korea’s Ministry of Defense. Even Yoo Seong-woo could sense that there was no guarantee he would be allowed to return home safely after performing as specified in the document.
“I’ve been keeping quiet until now because it was troublesome, not because I was being nice.”
Yeon Tae-soo reached out his arm as if to block Seong-woo’s view and closed the file displayed on the screen.
“What happens if we refuse?”
“Though it’s called a recommendation, it’s practically a demand, so nothing good would come of it.”
Kim Ji-heon answered Seong-woo’s question. Yeon Tae-soo stared into space with his mouth shut, seemingly deep in thought.
“For now, since they didn’t specify Mr. Yoo by name and only mentioned ‘musician,’ we could send someone else. And…”
“Even so, they’ll try to take Mr. Yoo away through other means before long.”
Yeon Tae-soo cut off Kim Ji-heon’s words. He uncrossed his arms and gently brushed aside the hair that had fallen onto Seong-woo’s forehead with his non-prosthetic hand. Kim Ji-heon’s face contorted, but Tae-soo didn’t seem to care.
“Secretary Kim.”
“…Yes.”
“Let’s release that now.”
“Sir, that’s a bit…”
“Just do it.”
Whatever it was, Yeon Tae-soo apparently had a plan, but Kim Ji-heon seemed reluctant. Even while speaking, Tae-soo’s gaze remained fixed on Seong-woo.
“…Sigh, yes. I’ll do that then.”
Tae-soo continued looking at Seong-woo until Kim Ji-heon, who was sighing heavily, stood up and left the office. After the door closed, silence filled the room.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t think anything.”
“…I wasn’t thinking anything.”
Yeon Tae-soo playfully pinched his nose firmly before letting go.
“Sure you weren’t. I can see your mind working.”
He had been wondering if there was anything he could do. He averted his gaze and fidgeted with his fingertips.
“…There was an investment company involved in my creation.”
“Was that Yacheon Technology?”
He nodded without surprise. Since Kim Ji-heon had mentioned Yoo-hyun’s existence, he assumed Tae-soo already knew that Yacheon Technology was Yoo-hyun’s sponsor.
“They might be looking for me.”
As he spoke, his fingers kept curling.
“I ran away… from the investors.”
He still vividly remembered. The way their hands touched him and the terrible sensations on his body.
“If there’s a connection, the Minister might… know about me too.”
“The Minister? Well. I’m not sure how deeply he’s involved, but would he be that interested in machines? Especially if it’s not for military use, he probably wouldn’t care much.”
“…Even if not for military use…”
His breath caught. The explanation was clear, but it was humiliating to voice it.
“I could be used sufficiently for other purposes. The Minister might have been entertained as well.”
“Enter… what did you say?”
Yeon Tae-soo’s shock only increased his shame.
“I’m not Yoo-hyun, but a prototype created to make Yoo-hyun.”
Yoo Seong-woo felt miserable. He didn’t want to tell Tae-soo things like this.
“What reason would they have to hesitate with an object meant to be used and discarded?”
“Seong-woo.”
“My statement about being supposed to be discarded wasn’t a metaphor. Instead of being discarded, I ran away.”
Yeon Tae-soo gripped his shoulders and made him face him. His expression was extremely resolute.
“That kind of talk is forbidden from now on.”
“But…”
“If I say don’t do it, don’t do it.”
It was bewildering because Tae-soo had never been this firm before.
“I don’t like it. You talking down about yourself.”
His determined eyes quickly turned gentle. It was like watching a star change color.
“How many more times do I have to tell you how precious a person you are?”
The term ‘person’ sounded natural coming from him, but it felt strange to hear. Why would he call him that now that he knew what he truly was?
However, the word “precious” bothered him more.
Not once had he ever been called precious.
His creator had told him he was special, but strictly speaking, those words weren’t directed at him but at Yoo-hyun. He was just one step in the process of creating the final model.
It seemed strange and incomprehensible that Tae-soo would attach the modifier “precious” to a broken machine.
“…The investors actually abused me before. If people at the company recognize my face… it will cause trouble for you, sir.”
“Me? Cause trouble?”
Yeon Tae-soo twisted his lips into a smile.
“It seems our Mr. Yoo still doesn’t know who his lover is.”
Despite his face dripping with confidence, Seong-woo couldn’t smile freely.
In truth, he feared the investors more than the head of the Ministry of Defense. Known fears run deeper.
It was they who ordered the creator to dispose of imperfect prototypes. How could he forget the sight of some with only heads, some without limbs, piled up like dismembered corpses without ever opening their eyes?
Having survived, he remained alive, while Yoo-hyun, the final completed work, had self-terminated.
Yoo Seong-woo calmly met Yeon Tae-soo’s heterochromatic eyes that were fixed on him. Though his life had always been one of running away, somehow looking into these eyes made him feel like he might not need to flee anymore.
“I’ve never told you… how I was created.”
It seemed the time had come to reveal everything to him.
Besides, he’d had a thought that might help resolve the issues Tae-soo was facing.
***
He had almost no memory of when he was first created. This was because memory didn’t function normally until after several tests were conducted to prevent malfunctions.
Unlike humans, who borrow someone’s womb and go through a growth process, he was made directly as an adult body and remained trapped in an incubation capsule for a long time even after completion.
He had a vague memory of staring blankly outside while breathing through an artificial respirator in a liquid similar in composition to amniotic fluid.
And another thing that came to mind was music. Music that flowed into the incubation capsule. The very slow and quiet scales acted on his newly created auditory nerves, making his heart race.
He couldn’t store the first music he heard before even being completed in his memory. Functions weren’t yet enabled to that extent.
However, the repeatedly heard scales remained, melting into some part of his body rather than his memory.
After an unknown amount of time had passed, he was finally removed from the incubation capsule. The respirator attached to his mouth instead of an umbilical cord fell off, and his body touched the hard floor.
Starting from a blank state, he received and carried out several commands. He sang, displayed expressions designed to gain favor, and played the piano by reading sheet music.
‘Good, I’m satisfied.’
The creator’s words of satisfaction gave him motivation. Being primarily designed to attract people’s favor, he was sensitive to words or expressions that showed goodwill toward him. He tried to make more beautiful expressions and produce more pleasing and smoother sounds.
Even though he was in a semi-operational state where even memory wasn’t complete, winning people’s favor was the priority of all his operations, so this response came naturally.
The creator conducted more tests to check specific details, and he successfully performed and sang even some difficult pieces. The creator gave high marks to the way he digested and expressed music.
‘To be this sophisticated. Remarkable.’
The creator marveled at his creation. Rather than admiring his abilities, he was intoxicated with his own talent.
However, successful works tend to inspire greed in artists. To make his seemingly beautiful and perfect creation even more perfect, the creator left him standing there and went back to his workshop.
In a half-completed state, he stood in place. Left alone in the middle of the music room connected to the workshop wearing only a gown, he stood quietly and waited. With no memory input yet, he lacked the ability to cope on his own in such situations.
In his empty mind flowed the music he had heard in the incubation capsule. Theoretically, this was impossible without memory. It was like hearing music in the vacuum of space.
Nevertheless, lacking even the function to determine errors, he repeated the song in his head over and over.
The body that had been standing for a long time began to tire gradually. The need to supply nutrients and rest muscles applied even in a semi-operational state. But having received no command, he remained standing on cramping legs. Until the creator returned.
After standing in a blank state for some time, ‘Yoo,’ not yet Yoo Seong-woo, was finally approached by the creator, who manipulated a tablet. Simultaneously, information flowed into Yoo’s mind.
A vast database was uploaded, including all sorts of common knowledge needed to live like a human, as well as an enormous amount of music-related data.
Unlike humans, who can use only a tiny fraction of their brain function, Yoo could use all of his memory to remember and perform most musical knowledge and scores that existed in the world.
The memory first injected into a newly created android was generally predetermined. It was that they should not harm humans.
This android also had a special prohibition.
Do not behave in ways that would disgust humans.
After all, a robot that would smile and sing in front of people should be loved more than anyone else.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
