“Hana.”
Kim Yongsoo’s voice filtered through the static.
“Erase this memory… yourself.”
No one in the analysis room spoke.
On the screen, the blank stretch of the deleted 22 minutes and 17 seconds was marked in red. The voice data that had barely survived near its end repeated the same sentence.
Erase this memory yourself.
Jin Seoah looked at Jung Haeun.
“So Hana didn’t delete it on her own.”
“Receiving an order doesn’t erase responsibility.”
Jung Haeun didn’t take her eyes off the screen.
“Hana is a model with limited autonomy, enough to refuse an order from Kim Yongsoo. She would also have known that deleting the memory could affect the legal validity of the will.”
“Even so, it was a request from the person who cared for her.”
“That’s what makes it more complicated.”
Jung Haeun checked the deletion record again.
The ordering party was Kim Yongsoo.
The executing party was Hana.
The deleted subject was Hana’s own memory.
There had been no outside intrusion or forced manipulation. Hana had understood the order and deleted her own memory of her own accord.
Seo Jinhyeok asked, “Can it be recovered?”
“Complete recovery will be difficult.”
“Then recover as much as possible.”
“To do that, we have to keep the memory core running. That goes against the decision you just made.”
Seo Jinhyeok looked at Hana through the glass wall.
Gu Daechul was connecting a temporary power line to her damaged chest. Hana’s power level continued to drop.
To save her body, they had to stop the memory recovery.
To recover the memory, they might have to give up on Hana’s body.
Seo Jinhyeok asked, “If we stop the recovery, can we save Hana?”
“It’s too early to call it saving her. We’d be maintaining the core and primary circuits for now. We’ll need to replace the chest frame and reconnect the power system.”
“What are the odds of success?”
“At her current condition? Fifty-fifty.”
“And if we continue recovering the memory?”
“There’s a high chance the power system will shut down within an hour.”
Jin Seoah said, “Saving Hana comes first.”
Jung Haeun looked at her.
“If that memory isn’t recovered, we have no way to refute Kim Taeho’s claim.”
“But we can’t kill Hana just to obtain evidence.”
“Calling it ‘killing’ is already a definitive judgment.”
“Do you still not think Hana is alive?”
“I don’t analyze based on what I think.”
Jung Haeun’s voice was calm.
“I don’t declare something to be alive simply because it has a power response and its memory core is functioning. And I don’t declare its operation meaningless simply because it’s a machine. I look only at the facts we can verify.”
“Then the fact we can verify right now is that Hana is shutting down.”
Their gazes locked.
Seo Jinhyeok cut between them.
“Stop the memory recovery.”
Jung Haeun closed her mouth.
“Save Hana first. Ask her directly about the deleted memory after she’s alive.”
“There’s no guarantee Hana will wake up.”
“Then make sure she can.”
Seo Jinhyeok looked at Gu Daechul.
“What parts do you need?”
“The power circulator and chest frame are the problem. Matching parts would be fastest, but it’s a twelve-year-old model. The Administration won’t have any in stock.”
Rian spoke up. “I’ll look up the manufacturer.”
Data moved through Rian’s eyes.
A moment later, Rian raised their head.
“The manufacturer went out of business four years ago. Official production of parts for that model has also stopped.”
Gu Daechul clicked his tongue.
“Then we’ll have to find refurbished parts.”
“They aren’t available through legal distribution channels.”
“Then we find an illegal distributor.”
Seo Jinhyeok called No Geon.
No Geon answered after two rings.
“Yes, Chief?”
“We need the power circulator and chest frame for an old caregiver android.”
“What model?”
Rian read the registration information.
“HK-Care, seventh-generation female model.”
A short whistle came through the phone.
“That thing’s been discontinued for ages.”
“Can you get them?”
“Legally?”
Seo Jinhyeok didn’t answer.
No Geon laughed.
“I’ll look into it.”
The call ended.
Im Suhyeon had been watching.
“If we repair Hana with illegal parts, it could cause an even bigger problem later.”
Park Mujin shot back, “And if we leave her broken, are we legally in the clear?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then pretend you don’t know for a little while.”
Im Suhyeon looked at Seo Jinhyeok.
“Do you feel the same way, Chief?”
“If Hana is evidence, we preserve her. If she’s a victim, we save her.”
“What if she’s property?”
“Then we repair her and return her to her owner.”
Seo Jinhyeok turned his gaze toward the glass wall.
“Either way, there’s no reason to let her shut down now.”
Im Suhyeon didn’t argue further.
Kim Taeho was sitting in the Special Investigations Unit interview room.
His handcuffs had been removed, but the door was locked. On the table were a paper cup and the inheritance lawsuit documents he had been carrying.
Park Mujin sat across from him.
Rian stood against the wall.
Kim Taeho shot Rian a sideways glance.
“Does that have to be here too?”
Park Mujin asked, “Making you uncomfortable?”
“I don’t know why there’s a machine in a room where people are trying to talk.”
“Because they’re an investigator.”
“They’re an android.”
“An android investigator.”
“Can those two things really coexist?”
Park Mujin didn’t answer.
A few hours earlier, he might have agreed with Kim Taeho. But now, for some reason, the words grated on him.
Park Mujin opened the documents.
“Mr. Kim Yongsoo wasn’t diagnosed with dementia.”
“He had cognitive impairment.”
“Mild cognitive impairment. It also says he was capable of making everyday decisions.”
“There were days he couldn’t recognize people.”
“You saw that yourself?”
Kim Taeho’s expression hardened.
“Wouldn’t I know that as his son?”
“When was the last time you saw your father?”
Kim Taeho didn’t answer.
Park Mujin slid a sheet of paper toward him.
“I checked the phone records. In the two years before Mr. Kim Yongsoo died, you went to see him four times. You called eleven times.”
“He wouldn’t see me.”
“Your father?”
“He locked the door whenever I came.”
“Why?”
Kim Taeho looked at Rian.
“Because of that machine.”
“You’re saying Hana stopped you from seeing him?”
“My father changed after that machine came into the house.”
“How?”
“He told me not to contact him. He said Hana was all the family he needed.”
Park Mujin’s gaze dropped to the papers.
“Did Mr. Kim Yongsoo say that himself?”
“I heard it over the phone.”
“Did you record it?”
“Do I have to record every call with my father?”
“I’m asking whether you have evidence.”
Kim Taeho bit his lip.
“That machine must have told him to say it.”
Rian, who had remained silent until then, spoke.
“That is an unfounded assumption.”
Kim Taeho glared at Rian.
“Of course a machine would take the machine’s side.”
“Hana and I are neither made by the same manufacturer nor models designed for the same purpose.”
“You’re both machines.”
“Is it also humans taking the side of humans when a human investigator interrogates a human suspect?”
Kim Taeho didn’t answer.
Park Mujin looked at Rian.
Rian’s expression remained blank.
Park Mujin asked Kim Taeho again, “There must’ve been a reason your father told you not to contact him.”
“Why ask me? Ask the dead man, or dig through that machine’s memories.”
“That’s what we’re going to do.”
Park Mujin took out another record.
“Mr. Kim Yongsoo bought Hana twelve years ago. A year before that, you tried to take out a loan using the house in your father’s name as collateral.”
Kim Taeho rose from his seat.
“I needed it temporarily for my business.”
“Did you get your father’s consent?”
“I was going to.”
“You signed in his place.”
“He gave me permission.”
“Yet Mr. Kim Yongsoo reported you for forging a private document.”
“He later withdrew the complaint.”
“Because you promised to repay the money.”
Kim Taeho sat back down.
The anger disappeared from his face, leaving only exhaustion.
“I repaid it.”
“All of it?”
“I still have a little left.”
Park Mujin studied Kim Taeho for a while.
Only now were the emotions surrounding the house beginning to take shape.
This wasn’t simply the anger of a son who had lost his father.
He was someone who had needed that house for a long time.
Someone whose relationship with his father had been severed because of it.
And even after his father’s death, someone who still hadn’t received the house.
Park Mujin asked, “So Hana wasn’t supposed to inherit the house.”
“That’s my house.”
“It was your father’s.”
“Of course a son inherits from his father.”
“If it was so obvious, why were you left out of the will?”
Kim Taeho slammed his hand on the table.
The paper cup toppled, spilling water.
“Because it wasn’t a normal will!”
The officer outside the interview room checked inside through the glass.
Park Mujin didn’t move.
“What happened on the day the will was written?”
Kim Taeho’s breathing grew rough.
“My father called me.”
“What did he say?”
Kim Taeho didn’t open his mouth for a while.
Water from the fallen cup slowly spread toward the edge of the table.
“He apologized to me.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“Be specific.”
Kim Taeho lowered his head.
“My father called first. He said he wanted to settle the matter of the house. He told me to come over so we could talk.”
“So you went?”
“I did.”
“You saw Mr. Kim Yongsoo that day?”
Kim Taeho nodded.
Something changed in Park Mujin’s eyes.
Kim Taeho’s statement submitted to the court said that he hadn’t been able to see Kim Yongsoo on the day the will was written.
“You said in your lawsuit statement that you never went to the house.”
“My lawyer said it would be better to write it that way.”
“Why did you lie?”
Kim Taeho closed his eyes, then opened them.
“Because my father didn’t recognize me.”
The interview room fell silent.
“At first, he called me and told me to come. But when I arrived, he asked who I was.”
Kim Taeho’s voice dropped.
“When I told him I was his son, Taeho, he said his son was ten years old. He asked why I wasn’t home from school yet.”
Park Mujin said nothing.
“That machine took my father to his room. Then it told me to leave.”
“Hana?”
“It said my father was confused and told me to wait until he stabilized.”
“What happened next?”
“About ten minutes later, my father came back out.”
Kim Taeho clasped his hands together.
“This time, he recognized me. He apologized and said he’d been confused for a moment.”
“Did he talk about the will?”
“He said he was going to give the house to that machine.”
Kim Taeho’s mouth twisted.
His expression was close to neither laughter nor tears.
“The man who’d just said his son was ten years old.”
“So?”
“I told him it didn’t make sense. I told him to go to the hospital. I said we should wait until he was clearheaded before doing anything with the will.”
“What did Mr. Kim Yongsoo do?”
“He got angry.”
“What did he say?”
Kim Taeho hesitated.
“He asked whether the man who only came around when he was out of his mind was now worried about his mental state.”
Park Mujin didn’t ask anything else.
Kim Taeho’s gaze shifted to Rian.
“You didn’t see that in the memories, did you?”
Rian answered, “The memories from that time were deleted.”
Kim Taeho nodded.
“I knew it.”
“They were deleted at Mr. Kim Yongsoo’s request.”
Kim Taeho’s expression froze.
“What?”
“Mr. Kim Yongsoo ordered Hana to erase the memories from that time.”
“Don’t lie.”
“It isn’t a lie.”
“So my father knew there was something he had to hide.”
Kim Taeho stood.
“He even erased his memories to hide the fact that he wasn’t in his right mind. So how can that will be valid?”
Park Mujin didn’t force him back into his chair.
There was something difficult to refute in Kim Taeho’s argument.
Kim Yongsoo knew that his cognitive state could affect the validity of the will.
That was why he had told Hana to erase the memory.
Hana had known that as well and carried out the order.
What Kim Taeho had done and the validity of the will were separate issues.
That didn’t justify his destroying Hana with a hammer.
But it didn’t make the doubts he raised false, either.
Kim Taeho looked at Park Mujin.
“Do you understand now why I smashed that machine?”
Park Mujin answered coldly, “No.”
“What?”
“I understand that you thought your father couldn’t make a sound judgment.”
Park Mujin rose from his seat.
“But I still don’t understand why that means you had to smash Hana with a hammer.”
“Because she deceived my father.”
“That’s what you think.”
“She erased the memory!”
“Your father told her to erase it.”
“So they were hiding it together.”
“Then you should’ve gone back to court.”
Park Mujin stepped toward Kim Taeho.
“But you brought a hammer. Because you thought the court wouldn’t believe you. Because you thought you’d never get the house if Hana opened her mouth.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why did you try to destroy the memory core?”
Kim Taeho couldn’t answer.
Park Mujin opened the interview-room door.
Before leaving, he turned back to Kim Taeho.
“Thinking you were abandoned by your father and having the right to destroy someone are two different things.”
The door closed.
Only Kim Taeho and Rian remained in the interview room.
Kim Taeho looked at Rian.
“Do you think so too?”
Rian looked at him for a moment before answering.
“I don’t have a father.”
“So you don’t know.”
“But I do have a record of being discarded by my manufacturer.”
Kim Taeho’s gaze stopped on Rian’s face.
Rian said nothing more.
No Geon brought the parts within an hour.
Inside an old shipping crate were a seventh-generation HK-Care power circulator and chest frame. They weren’t new, but they were usable.
Gu Daechul inspected the parts.
“Where’d you get them?”
“A scrapyard.”
“Which scrapyard?”
“The kind of scrapyard that would be a problem if the Chief found out.”
Im Suhyeon looked at No Geon.
“What about the purchase record?”
“Paid cash.”
“A receipt?”
“You shouldn’t expect to find receipts at a scrapyard.”
Im Suhyeon pressed a hand to his forehead.
“This is definitely going to cause problems later.”
No Geon grinned.
“If Hana’s alive later, ask her yourself whether she preferred almost dying legally or being brought back illegally.”
“Don’t simplify the law like that.”
“That’s because the law simplifies people.”
Gu Daechul stepped between them.
“If you want to fight, take it outside. If your hands start shaking, I’ll connect something wrong.”
No Geon and Im Suhyeon fell silent.
Gu Daechul opened Hana’s damaged chest.
He organized the severed circuits and removed the broken power circulator. The replacement part had the right specifications, but the connectors were different.
“Of course it doesn’t fit as-is.”
Jin Seoah asked, “How long will it take?”
“Longer if you rush me.”
“Her power keeps dropping.”
“I know. That’s why my hands are sweating.”
Gu Daechul removed his gloves, wiped his palms on his pants, and put the gloves back on.
Rian moved to Hana’s other side.
“I’ll assist.”
Gu Daechul looked up at Rian.
“You know old circuits?”
“I downloaded the maintenance manual for the seventh-generation HK-Care.”
“Does it explain how to connect illegally modified parts?”
“It isn’t in the official manual.”
“Then do only what I tell you.”
“Understood.”
Gu Daechul held out his hand.
Rian selected the exact tool and placed it in his hand.
The two of them began working in silence.
Jin Seoah watched Hana’s power level on the monitor.
Twelve percent.
Eleven percent.
The number slowly dropped.
Seo Jinhyeok watched from outside the analysis room.
Park Mujin approached him.
“Kim Taeho says he saw Kim Yongsoo on the day the will was written.”
“That wasn’t in his statement.”
“He lied.”
“Why?”
“He says Kim Yongsoo didn’t recognize him that day. He mistook his son for a ten-year-old, if only briefly.”
Seo Jinhyeok looked at the screen displaying the deleted memory.
“That must have been in the deleted 22 minutes.”
“Probably.”
“Can we trust Kim Taeho?”
“He has reasons to lie, and reasons to tell the truth.”
“Which is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Park Mujin looked at Hana through the glass wall.
“That’s why the machine needs to wake up.”
Seo Jinhyeok looked at him.
“Machine?”
Park Mujin’s expression stiffened.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Seo Jinhyeok turned his gaze back to the analysis room.
Park Mujin fell silent, as if only belatedly realizing what he had said.
If he thought of Hana as nothing more than a machine, there would be no need for her to wake up. They only had to extract the data from her memory core.
And yet Park Mujin had said Hana needed to wake up.
Seo Jinhyeok didn’t point it out.
Gu Daechul’s voice came from inside the analysis room.
“I’m cutting the power.”
Jin Seoah checked the monitor, her face tense.
“It’s at nine percent.”
“I’m cutting it completely. The core will lose power until we connect the new circulator.”
“What’s the chance of memory loss?”
Jung Haeun answered, “There’s a chance.”
“How much?”
“We don’t know.”
Gu Daechul gripped Hana’s power line.
“If I don’t disconnect it now, the entire body will go first.”
Jin Seoah couldn’t ask anything else.
Gu Daechul disconnected the power line.
The number on the monitor plunged.
Eight percent.
Five percent.
Two percent.
A warning tone continued for a long time.
Zero percent.
The faint movement that had remained in Hana’s fingertips stopped.
The monitor went dark as well.
Silence filled the analysis room.
Jin Seoah unconsciously held her breath.
Gu Daechul and Rian immediately connected the new power circulator. They cut away the old connectors and spliced the wiring to fit the new circuit.
Time stretched out.
Jin Seoah couldn’t tell how many minutes had passed.
“It’s connected,” Rian said.
Gu Daechul secured the final wire.
“Bringing the power back up.”
Current flowed through the new power circulator.
Nothing happened.
Gu Daechul increased the output.
Hana’s body didn’t move.
Jin Seoah asked, “Why isn’t she responding?”
“Wait.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know either.”
Sweat ran down Gu Daechul’s forehead.
He adjusted the output again.
The monitor came on, then went off.
It came back on.
One percent appeared on one side of the screen.
Jin Seoah exhaled.
Two percent.
Three percent.
The power level slowly rose.
Rian placed a finger against the side of Hana’s neck.
“The circulation response is back.”
Gu Daechul leaned back in his chair.
“That did it.”
Jin Seoah moved closer to Hana.
“What about consciousness?”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
Her power had returned, but Hana didn’t open her eyes.
Jung Haeun checked the memory core.
“The damage to the memory sectors is greater than expected.”
“Is it because of the deleted memory?”
“No. Some indexes collapsed when the power was cut.”
“Which memories were damaged?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Jin Seoah looked at Hana’s hand.
The hand that had held a dishcloth.
The hand that had repeatedly scraped at the floor.
Now it held nothing.
Two hours passed.
Hana’s power level had risen into the normal range, but her consciousness had not returned.
Jin Seoah sat in a chair outside the analysis room.
She hadn’t even been there a full day yet.
That morning, she had been thinking about what to put on her desk. She had worried about what impression she would make on her seniors and whether she would make a mistake at her first meeting.
Now she was waiting for the first android she had ever seen to open her eyes again.
Jung Haeun held out a paper cup.
“Drink.”
Jin Seoah accepted it.
“Thank you.”
Jung Haeun didn’t sit beside her. She leaned against the glass wall and watched Hana.
Jin Seoah asked, “Would the damage have been less severe if I hadn’t accessed the memory in the field?”
“We don’t know.”
“But it’s possible.”
“If you try to take responsibility for every possibility, you can’t do this job.”
“Is that why you don’t go into the field?”
Jung Haeun looked at Jin Seoah.
“What is?”
“Because in the field, you can’t look only at the facts.”
Jung Haeun didn’t answer.
“Was it because seeing Hana in person made it impossible for you to treat memories as mere data?”
“Are you analyzing me right now?”
“I was curious.”
Jung Haeun thought for a moment before speaking.
“When I worked at a robot hospital, I once restored a memory incorrectly.”
Jin Seoah raised her head.
“An android had been damaged in an accident, and its guardian wanted the memory restored. It was an android they’d lived with like family.”
Jung Haeun looked through the glass wall.
“The restoration succeeded, but some of the memories were put out of order. The android came to believe its guardian had attacked it.”
“What happened?”
“It didn’t recognize its guardian. It reported them as the person who had kidnapped it.”
“Couldn’t you fix it again?”
“When we accessed the memory a second time, the core collapsed completely.”
Jin Seoah couldn’t say anything.
“I didn’t see the scene firsthand then. I only saw the guardian crying and asking me to restore it. So I thought restoring it was the right thing to do.”
Jung Haeun looked at Jin Seoah.
“Seeing the scene doesn’t always bring you closer to the truth. Sometimes it only brings you closer to stronger emotions.”
At that moment, a small sound came from inside the analysis room.
They both looked toward the glass wall.
One of Hana’s fingers moved.
Jin Seoah stood.
“Doctor.”
Hana’s hand slowly clenched, then relaxed.
Jung Haeun opened the analysis-room door.
Jin Seoah, Seo Jinhyeok, and Gu Daechul followed her inside. Park Mujin and Rian hurried in from the hall as well.
Hana’s eyelids trembled.
A moment later, her eyes opened.
Her unfocused gaze fixed on the ceiling.
Jin Seoah bent close to Hana’s face.
“Ms. Hana.”
Hana’s eyes moved, following Jin Seoah’s voice.
“Can you hear me?”
Hana’s lips parted slightly.
No sound came out.
Gu Daechul adjusted the output of her voice device.
“Take it slow. The circuits haven’t stabilized yet.”
Hana moved her lips again.
This time, a faint voice emerged.
“Where… am I?”
Jin Seoah answered, “The AI Administration. You were attacked and brought here.”
Hana’s gaze slowly swept around the room.
Seo Jinhyeok.
Park Mujin.
Rian.
Gu Daechul.
Finally, it returned to Jin Seoah.
“Where’s Mr. Yongsoo?”
No one answered immediately.
Jin Seoah spoke carefully.
“Mr. Kim Yongsoo passed away three months ago.”
Hana’s gaze stopped.
“I see.”
“Don’t you remember?”
Hana didn’t answer.
Jung Haeun checked her memory response.
Multiple errors appeared on the monitor.
“Some of her time perception is damaged.”
Jin Seoah asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Hana’s eyes trembled faintly.
“Mr. Yongsoo… is home.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
The morning three months ago.
The last day Kim Yongsoo had been alive.
Hana couldn’t remember anything after that.
Jung Haeun said, “The indexes for her recent memories have collapsed. She may not be able to access the memories from the day of the incident for now, either.”
Park Mujin looked at Seo Jinhyeok.
The memory showing Kim Taeho’s crime might have disappeared.
Seo Jinhyeok approached Hana.
“Do you remember the day Mr. Kim Yongsoo wrote his will?”
There was no change in Hana’s expression.
But the internal response levels on the monitor rose sharply for a moment.
“I remember.”
“Did Mr. Kim Yongsoo tell you to delete a memory that day?”
Hana didn’t answer for a while.
Jung Haeun checked the screen.
“She understands the question.”
Seo Jinhyeok waited.
“Is it difficult to answer?”
Hana’s lips moved.
“I made a promise to Mr. Yongsoo.”
“What promise?”
“That I wouldn’t tell.”
“Mr. Kim Yongsoo is dead.”
“I know.”
“Because of that promise, you’re suspected of manipulating the will.”
Hana looked at the ceiling.
“I know.”
“Kim Taeho destroyed you because of that suspicion.”
Hana’s eyes returned to Seo Jinhyeok.
“Where is Mr. Taeho?”
“He’s in the interview room.”
“Is he hurt?”
Park Mujin looked at Hana incredulously.
“He’s the one who smashed you with a hammer.”
Hana looked at Park Mujin.
“I know.”
“And you’re worried about him first?”
“It isn’t worry.”
“Then what is it?”
Hana’s answer came after a brief delay.
“Verification is necessary.”
Seo Jinhyeok asked, “What are you trying to verify?”
Hana looked down at her damaged chest. The newly connected frame and exposed circuits were visible.
Then she looked back at Seo Jinhyeok.
“Please let me see Mr. Taeho.”
“Tell me why first.”
“I can speak about the reason for deleting the memory only in Mr. Taeho’s presence.”
“Why?”
Hana’s voice was still faint.
But her answer was clear.
“Because that memory doesn’t belong to me.”
Jin Seoah asked, “Even though it was stored in your core?”
“I saw it.”
Hana spoke slowly.
“But what happened that day is Mr. Yongsoo’s and Mr. Taeho’s memory.”
Seo Jinhyeok looked at Hana.
A promise she had tried to protect even by erasing her own memory.
A truth she would reveal only while facing the person who had destroyed her.
What remained inside it was still unknown.
Hana spoke again.
“Please let me see Mr. Taeho.”
Seo Jinhyeok hesitated briefly, then nodded.
“Bring him in.”
Park Mujin headed for the interview room.
Hana closed her eyes.
The power level that had been fading began to fluctuate again, little by little.
Jin Seoah looked at Hana’s hand.
It moved slowly.
It groped through the air as if searching for something, then touched Jin Seoah’s wrist.
“I have a request.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is anyone going home?”
“Why?”
A very faint strength entered Hana’s hand.
“The flowers in the garden need to be watered.”