Sang-hyuk flinched when he felt something cold press against his cheek, peeking up from where his face was buried in his hands to see Won-shik holding out a glass of water. He tiredly ran his hands over his face before gratefully taking it, letting out a soft sigh. He could feel Won-shik’s gaze burning into the side of his head, and kept his eyes trained on the floor as he listened to the other eventually give up, moving across the room to sit at his desk. He knew Won-shik was waiting, but he honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care. Everything felt numb at this point, and the overbearing stare that once used to give him chills now did nothing.

“Sang-hyuk...” Won-shik finally started, unable to handle the silence, “I can’t keep finding you like this. Please, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” His voice was hoarse, fingers taut as they clenched around the glass in his hand. Won-shik didn’t answer right away, his silence speaking volumes, and Sang-hyuk finally broke down, looking up to see Won-shik staring at him with eyes that begged to understand. With the weight of Hak-yeon’s father’s words—take care of him—on his shoulders, a part of him wanted nothing more than to tell Won-shik everything, to just let go and let someone help him. But then almost immediately he remembered what happened the last time he let someone in, and he would never make that mistake again.

Won-shik dropped his head in his hands as he leaned against his desk, doing his best once again as he changed subject. “Y09…it’s gone.”

Sang-hyuk’s head snapped up in shock, fingers nearly dropping his glass. “…gone?”

Won-shik hummed, the sound muffled between his palms. “Yeah. It…she had a bad reaction to the sedative and…she couldn’t recover.” Won-shik dragged his fingers down his face before burying them in his hair, his expression so lost as he blinked down at his desk. “I told them they were going too fast. She was so tiny, she couldn’t handle all the changes they were doing. She was pumped up with so much that when they added the sedative, her heart just gave out.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, hands shaking. “Won-shik…” He thought of the tiny girl tucked into Won-shik’s side, gaze glossy with a mind so muddled she could barely blink. He thought of Sung-jae with his tear-stained cheeks, face pressed against the glass as he watched her, desperate for even a hint that she was okay. He thought of that same girl asleep in her tube—she had been so strong…he wondered how broken Sung-jae would’ve been if he’d known how quickly and easily she had gone out. “She…did it hurt?”

“Yeah…yeah, it did. They’d already replaced pretty much everything, so she felt every ing second of it. That sedative is very reactive. She felt everything.” A glimpse of a young girl with a flower pin in her hair flashed briefly in his mind, and Sang-hyuk was quick to wave it away. He always did his very best to forget her.

Won-shik sighed as he folded his hands tightly together, exhaustion clear on his face as he met Sang-hyuk’s eye. It was a look that was becoming permanently etched into the other’s features. “But I guess there’s always a positive to everything; they’re stopping all enhancement procedures until further notice.”

This time Sang-hyuk did drop his glass, water splashing his shoes and soaking his pants. Won-shik clicked his tongue at the mess on the floor, though made no move to clean it. “No one’s really sure what caused Y09’s…reaction, though they don’t want to take any chances. Y21-” he coughed uncomfortably at Sang-hyuk’s darkening expression, hurriedly correcting himself, “-er, Hak-yeon is too important right now, so they don’t want to risk harming him. So, they’re going to hold off until they get a better understanding of the situation.”

Sang-hyuk stared at Won-shik for some time before hanging his head, his mind whirling at the new information. He felt guilty that he hadn’t paid much attention to the girl Sung-jae had given himself for, knowing so little that the news that she’d already had the majority of her body replaced shocked him. It had only been a few months since she’d been turned, to have had so much done already—he could only imagine how disappointed Sung-jae would be if he knew.

But then he thought of Hak-yeon, his face flushed as he reveled in the feeling of Sang-hyuk’s fingers running over his knuckles, and he wondered how much he was really helping by keeping Hak-yeon away. Hak-yeon had told him many times how much he loved his new hand, pleading to let him have more. While he absolutely didn’t want to, he couldn’t help wondering if keeping Hak-yeon locked in an empty, unfeeling world was any better.

He carefully reached down and picked up his surprisingly unbroken glass, letting it dangle precariously between his fingertips. “Won-shik,” he said slowly, trying to string his thoughts together. “I…I’ve been thinking. This whole time, we’ve focused entirely on replacing body parts and monitoring their social skills. We’ve never tried anything else, or-or making something that can help them. Are there…are there any other projects besides this one?”

He could see Won-shik stiffen. “What are you asking?”

“We’ve only had the one approach to working with the cyborgs, and we’ve never tried changing anything or doing something else. I was just wondering if you guys have ever done any side projects or-”

“Hyuk, you’re asking some dangerous questions.” Sang-hyuk jerked his head up to see the serious look on Won-shik’s face, letting the meaning of his words wash over him in a sickeningly slow crawl. There were other projects being conducted at the lab, and while he still had no idea if they were ever meant to be used, he knew that they were being done. And again, hearing Hak-yeon’s father’s words echo in his ears, the weight of his hands still heavy against his collar, he croaked out,

“So, there are more.” Won-shik stifled an uncomfortable cough, and Sang-hyuk gave a small sigh of reprieve. “You don’t have to say anything, I know you value your own over anyone else’s.” Won-shik opened his mouth to argue but Sang-hyuk hurriedly cut him off. “I’m a Doctor now, aren’t I? I should have access to most things; I can look into the computer archive if I want.”

“No, Sang-hyuk,” Won-shik snapped, finally finding his voice as he agitatedly knocked his knuckles against his desk. “Stop. You shouldn’t be looking into things that don’t concern you. You of all people should know what happens.”

“And what? They’ll take Hak-yeon away from me? They’ll kill me? It’s pretty bold of you to assume any of that scares me anymore.” He scoffed at the thought, chuckling lowly as he got to his feet, refusing to look at Won-shik any longer as he subconsciously twirled his glass between his fingers. “Bet you all thought you were pretty smart forcing me to demonstrate in front of them, but look where that’s got you now. Can you really afford to kill me when they’re expecting miracles?” He moved to leave, only to stop short at the sound of Won-shik’s broken call.

“Hyuk…please.”

He had never heard Won-shik sound like that.

He turned to see Won-shik standing, papers fluttering to the floor from where he jumped to his feet. “They won’t hurt you, but you won’t be ready for what you’ll find. You can’t handle it.”

“What kind of things?” he asked before he could stop himself, frowning when he saw Won-shik hesitate. “What else have you done to them? Were there others-?”

“No, nothing like that. T52 and X39 were the only cyborgs. But there are things that are better left secret. Especially from you. Please, just drop this and focus on Hak-yeon. He needs you.”

Sang-hyuk mutely let Won-shik’s words fade into silence, the truth behind them sending shivers down his spine. Hak-yeon did need something, but that something wasn’t him. Not anymore. No, Hak-yeon needed help, and if he could do even a fraction of that, he was willing to do anything.

With the weight of Won-shik’s eyes boring into his head, he walked forward and set the glass down on the desk, no amount of bolstered confidence enough to let him meet that gaze. “I’m tired of never knowing, Won-shik,” he said, suddenly so exhausted, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers slipped back until they hooked on the edge of the desk, his fingertips catching and letting a wisp of a long-forgotten memory rush through him, the humid air of a day full of nothing but sweet innocence enrapturing him. “I’ve always been in the dark, letting myself blindly believe whatever you told me. But now…I want to know. I want to know, Won-shik.”

“They won’t let you,” Won-shik whispered back. “They’ll stop you before you even get a chance to look.”

“Then I’ll fight them. What they want from me…I can’t keep giving without knowing.”

Silence. And then, just a soft whisper in the wind, “Paper.” Sang-hyuk’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he watched as Won-shik’s hands curled into tight fists, shaking just slightly. He still couldn’t look him in the eye. “Nobody knows we still keep them, paper trails being messy and all. But you still have to have them, in case something goes wrong.”

Sang-hyuk finally understood, his lips parting in shock, and Won-shik took that moment to grasp his hand. “I won’t stop you, but I want you to remember that there are secrets that should never be told.” Won-shik eventually pulled his hand away, allowing Sang-hyuk to slowly back towards the door. “I told you I care about you, but there will eventually be a time when even I can’t put the pieces back together.”

--

Despite his strong words, Sang-hyuk bypassed the records room completely, heading straight for Hak-yeon. Not having had much time since the sponsor demonstration, he’d never had the chance to see him, the memory of Hak-yeon stumbling blindly, unaware of the lecherous eyes that watched him, haunting his every thought. He could feel his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to keep Hak-yeon safe, to keep the innocence his stolen memories had left him, but…as he watched Seok-jin push his car into Hak-yeon’s room, he felt himself falter, his footsteps stopping mere inches away.

Hak-yeon…did he deserve to walk in there? Hak-yeon trusted him, but how much did he deserve that trust? While they might have stopped testing for now, there would eventually be a time when Hak-yeon would have to start them again, and enough of him would be replaced that he would feel every second of it. To willingly allow that to happen, did he deserve to have Hak-yeon love him?

He eventually slid down until his knees were pressed to his chest, his back cold against the wall.

What was he supposed to do?

A tear trickled down his cheek, his lips turning white as he fought to keep himself quiet. Hak-yeon had always had the answers; no matter how scared or confused Sang-hyuk had been, Hak-yeon always knew what to do. But now, what was he supposed to do? Who could he ask?

He pressed his palms to his eyes, his breath hitching as he fought back a sob, overwhelming shame wracking him breathless. He wanted nothing more than Hak-yeon’s arms wrapped around him, his lips leaving sweet marks against his skin as he whispered soft reassurances into his ears. He wanted to see his bright smile when he got home, jumping into his arms as he tried to distract him from the burnt food waiting in the kitchen. He wanted to sheepishly ask to sleep together, to listen to Hak-yeon playfully while indulging his every request. He wanted…he wanted someone to tell him that everything was going to be okay.

Small gasps escaped him as he shoved his knuckles against his lips, staring at Hak-yeon’s door and dreading Seok-jin coming out. What would even happen if anyone found him like this? Who would really care? Most would probably pretend they didn’t even see him, if anything Seok-jin would just awkwardly greet him before running off. Hak-yeon had been the only one to genuinely be concerned about him, asking when there was even a hint of a frown on his face. But whose fault was it that that he couldn’t anymore?

“Take care of him.”

He had to take care of him, he owed Hak-yeon that much. He hurriedly wiped his cheeks until they were raw, knowing his eyes were stained red and his lips scarred with bite marks. He took a deep breath before standing up, running his hands down his sides a few times before turning around and heading for the records room. While he wasn’t really sure what he was doing or what he was looking for, he knew he had to stop hiding and actually do something.

He opened the door to find only one man inside, the silent screens that lined the wall displaying everything that went on in the lab. He did his best to keep his wandering eyes from finding Hak-yeon, staring intensely at the man that looked close to passing out. “U-uh, can I help you, s-sir…?” the man stammered, hands still locked over his keyboard as he tried to stay as professional as possible. Sang-hyuk really wished people didn’t talk to him like that, he hated it when everyone pretended to be so nice.

“I’m looking for the lab archives,” Sang-hyuk said loudly, hoping volume could compensate his lacking confidence. “I need to find a certain file.”

It seemed to work, the man glancing back at the screens before his lips nervously. “Uh, sure. Y-yeah, I can do that. Do you want to use this computer-?” His hand moved towards his computer mouse, and Sang-hyuk quickly stopped him.

“No, I’d rather look through the printed archives. Would that be okay? I don’t want to take up your time.” He flashed the best disarming smile he could, and it seemed to work when the man’s shoulders slumped in relief, a hint of a smile pulling back his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, t-that’s fine! Nobody really goes in there, so you don’t have to worry about hurrying or anything. Here, I can take you there.” The man was standing before Sang-hyuk could stop him, boyish features on full display as he waved Sang-hyuk to a forgotten door on the other side of the room. Sang-hyuk kept his distance as the man fished keys out of his pocket, taking time to see how young the man was, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and teeth crooked as he subconsciously chewed on his lip. He couldn’t help wondering where they managed to find all these young people, seeming as if every day another child stepped through those doors.

The man met his gaze with another smile that showcased two prominent front teeth, opening the door. “Well, uh, here you are! Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that should be it,” Sang-hyuk mumbled, already running out of things to say and wishing he could just disappear. He glanced back to the monitors and bit his lip, quickly turning back to the man. “In case anyone’s looking for me, just tell them I’m not here.” When he saw fear in the man’s wide eyes, he added quickly, “Don’t worry, you won’t be in any trouble, if anything, they’ll just yell at me. But if they try anything, what’s your name?”

“L-Lee Min-hyuk, sir.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, nothing will happen.” He made sure Min-hyuk was smiling again before stepping inside, waiting until the door was shut behind him to turn the lights on.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when Won-shik had told him of the printed archives, never having given much thought to the reports he had to fill out after every session with Hong-bin and Hak-yeon. Maybe a couple cabinets shoved into a corner, papers haphazardly shoved inside and quickly forgotten. What he hadn’t been expecting was a small room absolutely filled with cabinets of all shapes and sizes, faded labels on each drawer hinting how long ago they’d actually been used. His eyes ran over the boxes that lined the tops of the cabinets, loose sheets of paper littering every surface. It was an absolute mess.

Where was he supposed to look? What was he supposed to look for? He took a tentative step towards the nearest cabinet, opening it slowly, only to recoil when he saw dates that went back as far as fifty years ago. He hurriedly slammed it shut, whirling around and skimming through the pages on a nearby end table, frowning when he found it to just be some scribbled chicken scratch. He let out a steadying breath as he let his eyes sweep over the room again, trying uselessly to figure out some kind of sorting system to this mess.

He eventually stumbled to the other end of the room, going through each drawer and looking for something that wasn’t a date—a name, a title, anything; he ran his fingers over weathered cardboard as he began to zone out, nothing standing out. He yanked open another drawer, the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth, hundredth, who knew anymore, unable to focus—his whole body stopped as his breath was suddenly right out of him, his hand frozen above a folder that looked like any other…except with his father’s name.

Han Jae-myun.

It had been a long time since he’d heard it, his father’s name almost like poison as everyone in earshot immediately looked as if they on a lemon. It was a name that used to fill him with terror, his father’s harsh words and heavy hands seemingly engrained into his body, his muscles still able to tense on demand at the mere thought. It was a name that had belonged to a man that once held Sang-hyuk’s whole life in the palm of his hand. And now that same man was reduced to a simple folder, one whose details were now tantalizingly available for him to finally read.

He didn’t wait as he yanked the surprisingly thick file out before he could second guess himself, ripping open the cover and inhaling sharply at the picture attached to the front.

His father…he barely remembered what he looked like. In his memory, he had always been a tall, dark figure, so overpowering he could never look him in the eye. But here he was, suddenly so real, so human, and it was almost more than he could handle. He felt his knees give out under him, his back colliding painfully into the cabinet.

Tears clouded his eyes as he painfully tore his gaze away, unable to look any longer as he forced himself to read through his father’s profile, chuckling sadly at the scribbled afterthought of his own name under remaining family members. His father had tried so hard to hide him, and for what? For nothing. He skipped through the journal entries, knowing how many lies were slipped through to keep everything clean, and instead pulled out a small packet of pictures and notes, surprised to see Hong-bin in a great number of them.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”

Sang-hyuk nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice, head jerking up to see Won-shik staring down at him, the same saddened look on his face. When he didn’t respond, heart still racing, Won-shik’s lips pulled up in a wry smile. “How the hell you managed to find his file out of all this , I’ll never know.”

“My father…did he work on X39?”

Won-shik tiredly ran a hand through his hair, hanging his head as if deciding whether to answer or not. In the end, he let out a heavy sigh as he walked over and dropped down next to him in a tired heap, arms hanging over the curves of his knees and his head knocking back against the cabinet. Sang-hyuk decided against asking again, taken aback at how much raw emotion shined in the other’s eyes. He had been noting Won-shik’s exhaustion in the past few weeks, but nothing compared to now, staring down at Sang-hyuk’s father’s file and feeling the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Everyone eventually believes themselves to be untouchable. It’s only when you’re too far gone that you realize just how expendable you are.” Sang-hyuk swallowed, his grip on the file tightening, and Won-shik noticed, a whisper of a laugh brushing through his lips as he reached over and grabbed the stack of pictures from his hand. Sang-hyuk didn’t dare say anything, watching as Won-shik threw the paper clip aside and casually flipped through the pictures. “I’m still shocked how much your dad managed to do without getting caught; the poor bastard probably could’ve kept the ruse up for years.”

“I don’t get it,” Sang-hyuk finally managed, glancing down at the file for answers before just tugging on Won-shik’s arm. “What did my father do?”

Won-shik turned and met his gaze, staring at him so intensely Sang-hyuk slowly pulled his hand back, biting his lip as he instinctively looked down. Time seemed to stop as Won-shik picked out a particular picture, Sang-hyuk tentatively looking over to see a grainy image of Hong-bin sitting in a chair, a machine of some sort next to him as another man worked to attach a cable to his chest. The picture was innocuous enough, but it seemed to hold some sort of importance, Won-shik’s hand trembling.

“Your dad was originally assigned to T52. This man, Jung Moon-hyuk, was the one assigned to X39. I don’t know all the details, but once their memories were wiped, Moon-hyuk was allowed to move out into a separate lab, in the country. He was supposed to give reports daily, but he would go weeks without reporting anything. So, your dad was put in charge of checking up on him.”

Sang-hyuk silently grabbed the pictures back, flipping through to see different angles of Hong-bin strapped to a chair, of needles being pushed under his skin, of his face twisted in pain while the man, Moon-hyuk, watched apathetically with a hand on a switch. Had his father taken these? He paused on one of Hong-bin staring straight at the camera, his expression empty. He remembered Hong-bin’s confusion when Sang-hyuk had hugged him all those years ago, seeming surprised when his fingers had dug bruises into his skin. At the time, Sang-hyuk had just assumed Hong-bin to be a pitifully weird, but seeing these, what exactly had gone on during those years in that lab? What had they done to Hong-bin?

“So, when they moved us out into the woods…” he struggled to form words, his own eyes starting to water, “it was because of this?”

Won-shik hummed. “Yeah, you were probably just a baby, I doubt you even remember.”

“I…I don’t remember much. Anything from that time just seems like a dream.” He felt Won-shik place a comforting hand on his knee, and it was as if the dam broke, a choked sob racking his chest as he stared at his father’s picture. “My parents were always fighting. My father always scolded me or told me to stay in my room; I guess I convinced myself that my memories of him playing with me and kissing me goodnight were just stupid dreams. I always assumed he hated me.”

“I’m sure he didn’t. Your dad worked really hard to keep you a secret, he never told anyone about having a son. Didn’t even list it on his record.”

“Yeah, but that didn’t mean he had to be a ing .” He glared down at his father’s picture, his fingers itching to crush it. “I was so lonely and afraid, I wasn’t allowed to go outside or even look out my window. If he caught me doing anything other than homework, he would beat me with a stick. I had to listen. I…I hated him.”

“I’m sorry, Hyuk. You’re right, no matter his intentions, he was an .”

“Hak-yeon hated leaving me there. He knew my father hurt me and pleaded for me to run away with him. I wanted to, god I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was so scared of the outside, I couldn’t imagine leaving. Sometimes I wonder how different everything would be if I’d just said it and ran.” He scoffed at the thought, distractedly flipping through the pages as he let himself cry. “Can you imagine? I never would’ve met X39, and you never would’ve had a reason to kill my parents. Everyone would be happy and alive, ing peachy.”

Won-shik pulled back, wringing his hands agitatedly. “I’m not so sure about that. Your dad would’ve been found out eventually.”

“Found out what? That he was hiding me? Didn’t really matter that much in the end, did it?” He laughed dryly when Won-shik didn’t answer, turning his attention back to the file and running his thumb over the edge, the soft sound of rustling paper echoing in the small room. “I can only guess you guys didn’t put cameras up in our house. You’d have seen some real .”

Won-shik grunted lowly, shaking his head. “No, there were no cameras. That was a condition your dad insisted on. Said we had to give him privacy if they expected him to travel over to Moon-hyuk’s whenever they wanted. We never had any reason not to, your dad did his job and made sure to get whatever we asked. If we told him to go for three weeks, he did so without a complaint. If we asked for updates on X39’s progress, he’d get it no matter how much of a head Moon-hyuk was being. Your dad was one of the best.”

“Jung Moon-hyuk,” Sang-hyuk murmured, jaw tightening. “He ed with X39, didn’t he?”

Won-shik hummed. “Yeah. Moon-hyuk was a brilliant inventor, but after he made X39, he pretty much lost his mind. They really shouldn’t have let him live alone with X39, he did a lot of whenever your dad wasn’t around, conducting a bunch of secret experiments to try and ‘fix’ it. Tried implanting old memories, teaching emotions— like that. All it did was put everything into such a cluster that we were forced to do a full reset on the thing. That’s where you came in.”

Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped open. “W-what? You mean it wasn’t because of me talking to him beforehand? You mean you all lied to me?”

Won-shik hurriedly waved his hands in surrender, eyes wide. “No! I mean, yes, you also made a huge mess of things, but you weren’t the only reason. By the time X39 was returned to us, it was basically inoperable. Nothing worked and it wouldn’t even charge correctly. That’s why we had to find the kid that was in X39’s memory, it seemed to be the only thing to get X39 to cooperate.”

Sang-hyuk laughed in amazement, laughter the only reaction he could bring himself to feel. Everything was a lie, everyone wearing bright, smiling masks as they told him lie after lie until he couldn’t see the truth anymore. From Hak-yeon knowing all about the cyborgs, to Hong-bin having secretly kept his memories, to him not being the real reason Hong-bin had to be wiped in the first place—was there anything in this world that was real? “You’re all s,” he finally snapped, turning his attention back to the folder in his hands, watching his hands shake. “You’re all ing s.”

“You know, no matter how big you get, I don’t think I can ever get used to you cussing. You have too much of a baby face to be going around calling people s.”

“ off, Won-shik,” he grumbled, annoyed that his valid anger easily dissipated from Won-shik’s soft teasing. He hated that no matter how much Won-shik hurt him, he was still the best thing to have come out of working here. . “Doesn’t mean I still don’t hate you for lying to me about that. You know that messed me up.”

“I know, Hyuk, I know. There are a lot of things that, in hindsight, I should’ve done differently. You’re such a fragile thing.” Sang-hyuk rolled his eyes as he went back to shifting the papers around in his father’s file, his nail catching on the rough edges of numerous photographs inside. He carelessly tugged on one, the slight glimpse enough to stop him cold.

Won-shik belatedly realized what he found, cursing loudly as he reached over to grab it. “, Hyuk-”

Sang-hyuk pushed Won-shik back without ever looking away, voice lost as he stared at a picture of his mother. If his father had been but a shadow of his memory, then his mother was a mere blight, so hidden he could barely recall what she looked like. But it was as if the picture brought everything back, every smell and touch so clear as if he could feel her hand on his again, her lips pressed to his temple as she reminded him how much his father loved him. While he had openly hated his father, he had never been able to hold that same animosity toward his mother.

He was so caught up in his mother’s eyes, so empty and kind, that he was completely thrown when he felt the file ripped from his hands. Instinct took over as he immediately tried to grab it back, his mother’s picture fluttering to the floor, and he whined lowly when Won-shik scrambled back. “Won-shik, what-”

“Hyuk, I told you there are things best kept secret. Please listen to me, you don’t want to know.”

“W-what? What the ? What do you mean secret—what is my mom doing in there? She had nothing to do with anything-”

“I know, I know, but there’s a reason-”

“ your reasons! Give me that!” He lurched forward and wrenched the file back, forgoing all pretense as he dropped it and spread everything out across the floor. He could hear Won-shik let out a garbled cry as Sang-hyuk uncovered more pictures of his mother, each from different angles, some so close and personal there was no way she hadn’t been willing. There were photographs of her body, some of her arms and legs, her face, her neck, and one of her chest cut open, revealing a completely metal body underneath a thick layer of skin. “F-,” Sang-hyuk whimpered, shaking his head as he tried to breathe, the whole world closing in as spots began to dance in his vision.

“I’m sorry, Hyuk. I tried to tell you-”

“What the is this?” Sang-hyuk roared, raging betrayal clouding his vision as he glared uselessly at Won-shik’s blurry face, his shaking hands clenched into fists. His mother—she couldn’t. There was no way. She wasn’t—she wasn’t like them. She never lived in the lab, always stayed at the house and made food when his father was home. She got him ready whenever his father came home, getting him dressed and fixing his hair—she also hid in her room and ignored him, but that had nothing to do with this. Nothing. “What the -”

“We tried to keep this from you. When we saw you had no idea, we decided to never tell you-”

“Tell me what? That my mom was a ing cyborg? That you experimented on her? No, no no no no—she wasn’t. She wasn’t!” He flung the picture of his mother’s open chest away, dry heaving when it landed only a few feet away. “S-she was my mom! She wasn’t—she wasn’t!”

“Hyuk…she,” Won-shik clasped his hands against his mouth in thought, the ticking clock between them wearing thinner on Sang-hyuk’s patience, ready to spring, “…your mother wasn’t a cyborg.”

Sang-hyuk stopped, all wind blown out of his sails as he fruitlessly pointed at his mother’s chest, stuttering over himself in blatant confusion. “B-but this, what’s this? If she wasn’t a cyborg, a-and she wasn’t human, then w-what-”

Won-shik didn’t answer as he pulled out a set of blueprints, spreading them out until Sang-hyuk finally looked down at them, a heartbroken wail tearing through his lungs. Detailed drawings showed the outline of a female human body, motors and rigs of different shapes and sizes drawn into joints. There was a sheet for each part of the body, the description for the chest so similar to what he’d seen on both Hong-bin and T52. He bit his lip as he carefully placed his hand down on the blueprint for the arms, gasping softly when he saw the side note describing the charging port located in the wrist.

He didn’t realize he had started crying again.

“She wasn’t a cyborg,” Won-shik repeated softly. “She was an android.”

“T-that…that…” He turned to the blueprint for her face, able to see how much effort his father had put into designing her, each curve drawn with immense effort. There were details into the length of her eyelashes, the size of her eyes, the bridge of her nose and the fullness of her lips. He hiccupped at the description of her hair, how each port was purposefully placed and how long each strand would be. It was the exact face in his memory, and he wondered in growing horror if that was what his mother had looked like at all. “She couldn’t be…we can’t, we don’t have that capability yet. H-how…she was so human…”

“It was a project from a long time ago, long before I started here. Somehow your father got his hands on it and, well, you see.” Won-shik picked the picture of his human mother back up, humming quietly. “We never went to your house with the intention of killing your parents. We were originally sent to get your dad to explain why X39 wasn’t responding to us. But then we got there and there was suddenly an android standing in the kitchen and we did what we had to do. You know what happens.”

“So you killed him?”

“Again, that wasn’t the intention. We had to dismantle the android before it had the chance to do anything. We weren’t sure what it was capable of and none of us were ready to take the chance. Your dad, well, he had other plans.” He reached over and ran a hand through Sang-hyuk’s hair, letting his hand rest on the back of his neck. The touch was blazing hot compared to how cold he was, his body breaking into a cold sweat as he tried to understand. But his mind could only come up with nothing, so overwhelmed he could only struggle to breathe. “We only found out about you because we heard you run back to your room. We thought you were another android and were ready to kill you, until I saw you from X39’s memory. Really saved your back then.”

Sang-hyuk was still too dazed to push him away, only shaking his head as he continuously read over his mother’s blueprints. How…he still couldn’t believe it. He remembered her reminding him to do his homework, to eat his dinner and listen to his father. He remembered her squeezing his cheeks when she helped him get ready, running her fingers over his tongue to fix his hair. His heart squeezed as he realized he had never seen her her own fingers, never using the bathroom or complaining about the heat. He had always thought that was just how she was; he never would’ve thought she was an android. A robot.

That was pure science fiction.

His words were so unsure, small and afraid. “S-she…she only came out when my father was home. I-I thought that was just how she was. She was my mother…she was my mother…” He thought back to that day, discovering his father’s bleeding body and his mother’s horribly dismembered limbs scattered on the floor. He remembered thinking how someone had cleaned up so well, not a drop of blood anywhere; though he guessed he understood now. There was no blood to begin with.

“I’m sorry, Hyukkie. I really didn’t want you to know.” He paused. “But you have to know, what happened that day, it wasn’t your fault. Your father knew what he was doing when he made that android, and he knew the consequences if he was caught. His death was his own doing.”

“I-it wasn’t because of me? And X39?”

“No. Like I said, we didn’t even know you existed. We definitely wanted to find out who the hell was giving X39 hugs and kisses, but we had no idea it was you.” He handed Sang-hyuk back his mother’s picture, sending him a sad smile when Sang-hyuk shyly met his eye. “Your father was a curious man, and was always getting into things he shouldn’t. I don’t remember him much since I was just a kid when I started, but I remember my boss always getting ing pissed at him.” He chuckled fondly, resting his arms over his knees again. “But even the smartest men can do stupid things, and grief can you up. I can only imagine what he was thinking to get him to try and make that android.”

“How did he m-make her?” Sang-hyuk’s voice was destroyed, raspy and tired. The two of them made quite a pair, a mirror image of each other with their red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. “W-we can’t even handle cyborgs; how did he make an android?”

“Believe it or not, little Hyukkie, but androids are a lot easier to deal with than cyborgs. They function entirely on whatever program you put into them, it’s pretty simple compared to the we gotta do with the borgs. I’m not entirely sure why the project was abandoned, but I know they weren’t very happy when they found out your dad made his own. They made us go through all his stuff to make sure we got rid of it all. It was pretty impressive, what he managed to do.”

Sang-hyuk wiped his dried tears with the back of his hands, sniffling. “What’d he do?”

Won-shik smirked, nudging his shoulder playfully. It was such a change in mood Sang-hyuk didn’t even react, blinking confusedly. Won-shik laughed. “You’d think you’d be the one to know the most, seeing as you lived with it and everything. It was nothing special, since he made it by himself, but he created a program that passed as basic emotions, having them triggered based on certain phrases or reactions. It didn’t look like it worked very well, so your mom probably seemed super moody.”

“Yeah…she only really talked or did anything if my dad was there. I…I thought that was just how she was.” No matter how many times he repeated that, it never seemed real.

“Everything was pretty rudimentary, but he managed to program a few things into it. Greeting people at the door, cooking when he was home, keeping the house in order, those kinds of things. Simple tasks. I’m not sure how far developed its vocabulary or social awareness was, but I can’t imagine it was very good since it wasn’t given much to observe from. Your mom was probably a sitting hunk of metal when your dad wasn’t around.”

“I-I guess. I never thought about it. We were home alone a lot of the time, and we didn’t spend much time together. Nothing ever seemed wrong about her, she worked hard to please my father. They got into fights sometimes, but I never stayed around to listen. Maybe if I stayed, I’d have noticed something-”

“Stop, Hyuk. There’s no point thinking of the maybes. If anything, the fights were probably just faulty coding. There’s nothing you or your dad could’ve done.” Won-shik glanced at Sang-hyuk briefly before silently gathering the papers into a neat pile. “Creating androids from scratch is easy, but trying to do what your dad did, replacing a human being, is nearly impossible. Without her memories, it’s basically impossible to make it act like your mom. Your dad failed from the start.”

“Memories?”

Won-shik looked like he swallowed a lemon as he hurriedly put all his focus into putting the file back in the cabinet, eyes looking everywhere but at Sang-hyuk. “Not really memories, just imprints—like a copy. It was never fully developed, the man in charge of the project…died.” Won-shik’s refusal to meet his eye convinced Sang-hyuk he wasn’t fully telling the truth, and he had a distinct feeling there was much more to the idea of memories.

“Copying memories…you mentioned before how Jung Moon-hyuk tried putting memories into X39; is that something possible? Can we—can we return memories to the cyborgs? He jumped to his feet, latching onto Won-shik’s arm. “Would you be able to bring Hak-yeon’s memory back? Or X39’s?

Won-shik immediately pushed him off, squeezing his hand. “No, don’t even think about it, Sang-hyuk.”

He wasn’t deterred, squeezing Won-shik’s hand back just as tightly. Memories; memories had always reminded him of the light vanishing from Hong-bin’s eyes, the blank look Hak-yeon gave him without a hint of recognition behind them. They reminded them how unreliable they could be, how easily they were erased with each of T52’s resets and rewritten with a simple press of a button. Even his own memories had shown how untrustworthy they could be, things he had thought to be one thing turning out to be another.

He had feared them.

But suddenly there was hope, a possibility that those memories were not completely gone, that they could be brought back. There was suddenly a chance that Hong-bin could finally regain his identity, no longer uncertain as he ran his confident fingers over Sang-hyuk’s body. A chance that T52 could fill the gaps that allowed his resets to ravage his body, standing proud as a whole person once again. A chance the beautiful Hak-yeon of the past could return to his side, the galaxy that hid in his eyes shining once again.

He ignored Won-shik’s attempts to distract him as he smiled widely, waving offhandedly to a confused Min-hyuk as Won-shik pulled him out of the archive, grinning from ear-to-ear as he felt lighter than he had in weeks, possibly years. 

Memories could be returned.  

Sorry for the super late update, though this time had less to do with life (though that still was a part of it. life ) and more with this chapter in general. We're now getting to the meaty part of the plot, and these are things I've been foreshadowing since the start of the story. I've literally been imagining this scene for over a year now, so I wanted it to be perfect, which ended up with me sitting around and not writing anything. But now that the catalyst happened, hopefully the following chapters won't be so hard to write (or me being so picky haha). 

Also! We're finally getting to the answers to questions that've been lingering since the first chapter, so I hope you're all ready! I know I am!