“Huuu.”Joo-o let out a sigh of relief, as if he’d been terribly worried I wouldn’t do it. He rubbed his head against my shoulder, his soft cheek squished against mine so cutely it almost hurt.Emboldened, he plopped down between my legs and made another strange, happy noise.Kirrung-.Again. He made that weird sound. No idea how he does it, but I knew he was more than satisfied.After rubbing his head to his heart’s content, Joo-o finally settled quietly into my arms. Well, I’d never actually held him—he simply curled up on his own.“Do you want to do that in this cramped spot?”I nudged his wiggling body and asked. His round head nodded shamelessly. This dumb kid had completely forgotten he hadn’t even brushed off his own clothes.He’d flung dust everywhere, dirtying my relatively clean clothes. I clicked my tongue, but the closeness of his body made me hold my tongue.That was the mistake. From that day on, an invisible tug-of-war began between Joo-o and me.After his shower, Joo-o would purposely leave his hair half-washed, water dripping as he wandered around. I’d watch, grit my teeth, then later scrub the floor while reminding myself to be patient.When handing him things, I’d withhold them until he insisted, refusing to touch them as if to say, “Here—take it yourself.” Only when he puckered his lips in disappointment did I realize I’d strayed from my original intent, and I’d ruffle his hair out of misplaced guilt.It backfired. Joo-o learned the wrong lesson. The guy who used to lose his mind over food eventually sat there dazed until I handed it to him.I’d meant to teach him independence, but instead he grew lazier.His speech started to falter, too. Anyone could see he was worsening.“TV… want to watch TV.”He’d become so annoyingly talkative that when I noticed every response was a curt fragment, a sinking feeling hit me.“I thought you were going to lie down in your room.”“Here’s a bed.”“Don’t cut me off—finish your sentence.”“There’s a bed here, too.”By that point, even I had to admit it: Joo-o wasn’t improving, he was regressing.It wasn’t that his intelligence had suddenly tanked—if anything, his head was cunningly calculating.He’d grasped that whenever I put distance between us, he just needed to force me to intervene. Despite his dim exterior, he’d come to a brilliant conclusion.As a last-ditch hope, I took him to Dr. Jeong. If it was physical, the doctor could fix it.“So—why are we here?”“I’m… not brushing my own hair.”“You’re ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) really here for that?”Dr. Jeong stared as if seeing a ghost. I closed my eyes in annoyance.Damn it. His suddenly fluent speech at the clinic, unlike at home, pissed me off.“Perfect timing. While you’re here, grab this.”Dr. Jeong snapped his white coat and led us down the corridor. He pushed open the closet door in his office, revealing not a wardrobe but a three-pyeong storage room crammed with medical supplies.He rummaged through boxes.“You have a supply closet next to the bedroom.”“Do you know how often meds get stolen? One box could pay for two months of your care.”He answered offhandedly and disappeared deeper into the storage. A moment later he reappeared with a small, time-worn box.“What is this?”I examined the ragged cardboard.“Your father’s. He meant to burn it with his ashes but forgot in the chaos.”“You’re giving this to me now?”“I found it while cleaning the storage the day before yesterday.”Dr. Jeong shrugged and tossed me the box. Something clinked inside.I peeked in: odds and ends—pens, a small notebook, a pocket knife for self-defense, a pad with a dead battery or broken screen.Nothing that seemed crucial. More like traces of my father than clues for my return.Dr. Jeong must have forgotten, too. After his close friend’s death, he’d shoved everything into that closet and never looked back for over ten years.“Thanks… I guess.”“You’ll get Joo-o checked out, but just judging by his complexion, he looks fine.”Joo-o smiled shyly at Dr. Jeong. A flash of irritation rose in me.“Want a puzzle?”“Yeah.”“I won’t teach him to use honorifics, though.”“Okay.”“Doesn’t seem like you plan to, either.”On our way back, Joo-o eyed the mini-fridge. Dr. Jeong blocked him, signaling to take care of your own things.If it had been the day I first picked him up, I’d understand. But now he didn’t covet my food. I debated defending him, then just dragged him back into the corridor.“By the way, you wanted to know about the city’s power structure, right?”“Yeah. Not in detail—just a basic overview.”“I don’t know in detail, either. I only have a general sense. Don’t know if it’ll help you.”“I barely know anything.”“That’s normal.”Dr. Jeong glanced at both of us, meaning to head further inside. He’d examine Joo-o, then fill me in.“Here—take this and do as you’re told.”“Okay.”A metal plate clinked into Joo-o’s hand. In the middle of the maze-shaped board was a tangle of beads and wires.His eyes sparkled like he’d seen meat. From then on, he focused on the wire puzzle, yanking at his hair and pressing the device to his ear without a care.“Of course, nothing abnormal.”Dr. Jeong skimmed his examination form.“It’s refreshing to see you being so troublesome.”“I was tricked into malingering.”“You don’t seem to have that in you.”In the ten minutes of his exam, Joo-o solved the puzzle and beamed. Dr. Jeong gave him a handful of almonds and handed me the pad.On the screen above the memo window was a spiderweb of relationship charts drawn by the doctor.Clatter.Back home, I dumped the box on the floor and bits of junk rolled out.“No sign of gems.”“Won’t fetch much, even if you sell them.”Joo-o, who’d piped up, shut his mouth sheepishly and hopped onto the sofa.They really were trivial items. More my father’s personal affects than anything with a purpose.I opened the most prominent notebook and found pages of calculations—not clues, just arithmetic for his research.Of course I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Even Dr. Jeong or Boss Gil would’ve asked, “What is this?”That was it. The pens were dried up, and paper clips and pill packets were useless.What intrigued me most was the pad. Dr. Jeong hadn’t mentioned anything, so it probably held no critical records—but maybe some personal notes.I tapped it on a charger, and the screen lit up. The battery was fine.If the device itself worked, I could browse whatever private logs my father had typed. I turned, expecting Joo-o to watch—but he was staring off into space.He’d reverted to that blank state the moment we got home, only glancing at me occasionally, then averting his eyes as if we’d never met.“You damn brat.”I’d already invested enough time in him. Muttering a curse, I picked up the pad—its battery was about ten percent charged.Ding-rone.The device chimed in a surprisingly crisp tone and booted up. The screen displayed a plain UI and a handful of icons.Without hesitation, I tapped the notebook icon. After a few seconds of buffering, dozens of memos appeared in a list.Damn surveillance crew.I’m not under house arrest—what right do they have to count my outings?The first memo jumped out at me, shockingly fresh.As expected, purely personal records. Scattered through seven years since memory began were rare glimpses of the “human” side of my father—things I’d never seen.Asset seizure—truly a brutal but effective punishment.In a material-obsessed city, losing your property is a shackle if ever there was one.Leaving hidden accounts untouched—was that an act of mercy? Or mockery?When cornered, even a rat bites—he must’ve left himself one way to breathe. He was that kind of man.Beyond that, nothing meaningful. Mostly scribbles of appointments or stray thoughts so he wouldn’t forget.All touched on his daily life—living expenses unrelated to returning home, price trends of essentials.The earliest date at the top stretched from twenty years ago to three years before his death. I sank to the floor and read each entry.It was absurd. I’d pried into the private life of a man who always wore a stoic mask, yet I felt no closer to him.At age five—when I lost my memory and was left alone outside the city—there was nothing but notes like “Check screw threads.”Across all those records, there wasn’t a trace of me.

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