Khasan; unlog potential... Was this merely marketing jargon? Or did it tain truth? So, then, the NeuroVerse system that powered World: The in could help the brain learn new ways of doing things?

  This means it could help people through tough times. For example, if someone was trying to use a limb that had been put ba, special exercises for the nervous system in the brain were performed to help regain the feeling and trol like before. But that might be a distant vision judging from where things stand.

  For now, VR:Ser has only been able to repair the nervous system; it has not yet fully restored lost senses or pletely reected severed limbs.

  "That is a powerful vision, Dr. Shaw," the newscaster said. "And there has been a lot of specution about whether NeoGen pns to tinue produ or perhaps expand its teology. you shed some light on that?"

  'Finally, the discussion I have been waiting for!'

  But Lin appeared before me to the point of filling my entire field of vision because her face was so close...

  "You really find it iing? What do you think, big brother? Cool? Great? Awesome?"

  In that instant, my face sank into... nothingness. Utterly devoid of expression. I was genuinely annoyed—something crucial had been interrupted at the WORST possible moment. But si was Lin, I let it slide; I wasn't about to let my genuiions surface either.

  I ended up grinning and raising a brow. "What is it? Craving my attention so hard?"

  Her cheeks instantly flushed. "No! I-I, uh..."

  Before she could stumble further, I gently ruffled her hair. "Focus on your studies."

  Flustered but uo retort, she huffed and turned back tital panels, her movements more hurried than before. I chuckled softly, settling bato the sofa as the broadcast tinued. But—Ah, now people in the news were talking about something else...

  Never mind. I could find out why NeoGen distinued VR:Ser for myself ter. The point was, if the development of the NeuroVerse system was ihat good, what was the purpose of that threatenier inside my device's box?

  'No matter what, you 't run. Run from what... or who, exactly?'

  Creak...

  The distant sound of the door opening pulled me from my ption. Reflexively, my fiapped the remote. The s then switched tht colors and joyful animations of Lin's favorite el; she inched closer to the s.

  "Oh, oh... OHHH!! This show!"

  Her study was seemingly fotten. Good. Taking advantage of her distracted attention, I stood and took the dirty dishes ly. My footsteps into the kit were apanied by the ceramics king of the ptes I brought.

  Light from the front door spilled into the hallway, signaling my father's return. His sharp figure with gray-ash hair paused at the entrance. His dark brown eyes swept the se after him—the mess of holographiels and Lin, who was now pletely immersed in her Anime world.

  "Dad's home," I said as if I was talking to myself since my sister seemed lost to us.

  Father only nodded in aowledgment.

  With the dishes in hand, I tio walk and put them into the AutoDishes in the er of the kit. When I returo the living room, Father had stood beside my sister. Slightly bent over, he said, " Lin, remember what we talked about? Baween study and leisure."

  She looked surprised, not just because of Father's sudden presence, but also fused about what had happened. "I know! It is just—"

  "Just what? You know the importance of your studies; exams are ing up."

  "I was studying! Then—"

  "Yeah. Focus, Lin," I intervened between them while folding my arms and leaning against the wall.

  'Ha! What a trap, right?'

  It was Saturday, when weekend programs aired aed distras. Father's schedule usually brought him home early on these days—if there weren't any sudden calls—and, just like my sister, she, too, had e back from a half-day at school. It was the perfect setting for little disruptions to unfold.

  Well, I have been pnning this since Lin interrupted at the perfeent, just as the news reached its hottest topic—even though she had already agreed to let me watch (besides that, I wao py a bit with her). And now, Father nodded before passio walk out of the living room; it seemed he had left me with the responsibility of "lecturing Lin" down to me.

  My sister's eyes narrowed, then she quickly turned from me to the television and bace more, putting together the series of events that had resulted in her present situation. Now, now, she finally caught on to my little scheme? Her lips parted, perhaps to voice a pint or retort, but instead, she reached for the object—a stylus-pen—and threw it towards me.

  Her movements were easy to read. Same as the pen that soared aimlessly. It wasn't on target, so I had to stretch my hand high as I caught it. I gave her a smile... more specifically, a sarcastie.

  And Lin, now doubly annoyed yet defeated, turned her attention back to the scattered digital panels before her. The slight trembling of her body and lips made it clear she was mumbling under her breath, which I was sure must be about the unfair brother and his schemes.

  Then, as if struck by a realization, Lin paused. She nervously swept around, fumbling here and there. "Hey, where is my pen?"

  'Truly idiot.'

  "Here, pen." Her gaze automatically fell on me; while I threw the stylus-pen and—

  Thunk!

  —it hit right into Lin's forehead.

  'Now, that is what I call a headshot.'

  With a flushed face, holding her forehead with two hands, she screamed, "AARRGHH!! Brother, the hell?!"

  Drama queen, indeed, made me want to tease her even more. "Louder, the neighbors haven't heard you yet."

  Miraculously, she took me at my word and screamed even louder, "BIG BROTHER LUOOO!!!"

  Oh, hat a scream! I pyfully covered my ears. But I could specute it was eg through the walls, reag the ears of ahin a five-block radius.

  "Shuush, what is it, dear?"

  Mother stood in the doorway with hands on her hips. Lin's voice seemed so loud that it attracted her to e here. And my sister would take this opportunity to whine. As proof, she shot me a gre that could be described as if looks could kill... of her version. Since I have seeual one.

  "Mom!" She pointed right at me, though the other hand still held her forehead. "He is at it again!"

  Mother walked closer to her. "What?"

  'Retreaaat!'

  I slipped away, using the chaos as my perfect cover. The smirk that had threateo reveal my amusement now blossomed into a full grin as I walked quickly down the hallway toward the stairs to my room. But I have only stepped on , and Father appeared from the bedroom door nearby.

  " Luo." My footsteps instantly stopped, not because of the call but because of the invading nervousness; my heart skipped a beat. But Father kept tinuing, "Let's py chess."

  'Ah... I don't like this.'

  The invitation to py chess wasn't and never came without a reason. There must be something Father wao talk about—just the two of us. That was why... urgh.

  I hate this.

  I genuinely hate it.

  Not to the game itself—chess was fi was the unspoke that came with it. Father never pyed chess without a reason. For him, the game was more than strategy; it was a versation I didn't want to have. Because the problem was always the same. And they were personal.

  You know... something that required emotional vulnerability or prolonged e could be exhausting. Moreover, I bet Father would use these chess games to address deeper s about me. Whatever. It could be that I was just sensitive to this because I remember the few times Father tried to ect with me using chess.

  Just like on that day when I was discharged from the hospital two years ago... September 9th, to be exact. With that fresh early autumn chill, the air made one instinctively ched one's jacket tighter and tighter.

  I remember everything about that day: the sharp aic smell at the hospital entrahe way sunlight poured through the high gss windows, and even the soda mae at the er as I waited for Father to sign the discharge papers. That was the first time he brought out the chessboard.

  I thought it was a way to pass the time, maybe even a tiny celebration of my finally leaving the hospital after months of rehab. But no. It wasn't about the game. It was about me. And all ends up awkward.

  Kinda pathetic, really.

  My mood rapidly fell to zero, but I mao keep a smile when looking at him.

  "Sure."

  We moved into the study after my agreement.

  On its walls, ndscapes captured the soul of our p where nanoteology sprawled, with texture no digital s could replicate. What was it again... a painting? I kind of wonder where Father got it from because this stuff retty expehere was even one devi a gss-enclosed box.

  Cell phone.

  Hence, I was aware of this tool when it was held by those NP World: The in.

  But of others and all a items, he took me to the chessboard, pced oable by the window. The pieces, carved from cssic-looking bck metal and ivory, were from Father's favorite colle.

  Whe across from each other, the game began in ear.

  At least until his voice cut through.

  "Have you sidered your future?"

  "I already said it back then, right? Explore a little..." Father moved his bishop to er my knight; I quickly moved my knight to a safer position and tinued, " I take my time off for a year first?"

  Father's brow furrowed slightly, but his expression remained posed as he leaned ba his chair, pting the board. The pause stretched long enough to feel weighty as if the following words carried more significe than the move he would make .

  "A year is a long time, Luo." His fingers hovered over the queen before retrag. "Taking time to explore is uandable but 't be aimless. What will you do with that time?"

  I shrugged, though my grip on the rook tightened as I moved it to pressure his bishop. "Well... I am not saying I will waste it."

  "Exploration is valuable, but only if it is purposeful. Wandering without dire leads to nothing but wasted potential."

  "Purposeful," I repeated, leaning ba my chair and folding my arms. "You mean like how you pnned every career step, right?"

  The bishop moved again, threatening one of my pawns. He had me in a subtle bind. "Pnning isn't the enemy of freedom, Luo. It is what e. The more purposeful you are, the more options you have ter."

  "Maybe." Realizing I would have to sacrifice the pawn to reposition my pieces, I frowned. "But sometimes, people find their dire only after wandering a bit. Isn't it better to make mistakes now tha n ter?"

  "Is there... something b you?"

  Huh? Why ask something like that now? I tilted slightly, sidering whether something I'd missed had provoked him t it up. Was my aoo cutting? Or was it from this chess game? Like... I act aggressively just because of oime pressure? Perhaps he thought this tendency might apply to real life—how one small problem was enough ter me.

  If so, his way of analyzing the issue was impressive, as expected from a wyer. This made me even more careful, of course.

  So, I chuckled softly. "You are thinking too much, Dad. I am fine."

  His eyes lingered on me for a moment, perhaps gauging my response, while he moved his rook without a word. Silence crept bato the room.

  But it didn't st long.

  "Don't you miss the old days?"