Description

This is not a science fiction novel—A blueprint for civilization’s second chance. A revolt beyond utility.

In a universe bound by unbreakable laws, one man has found the key to rewriting reality itself.

Neosun was never meant to exist—at least, not in this timeline. A brilliant but discarded mind, he spent his life chasing forbidden truths, reaching beyond the limits of human understanding. But the world had no patience for dreamers, and the universe had no mercy for those who dared to defy its design.

Broke. Isolated. Forgotten. His stomach was empty, his future a dead end. Lonely, powerless, and desperate, he made a final, reckless gamble—plunging into Framequark, the enigmatic realm where he picked up the torch of childhood innocence that humanity had carelessly discarded. That fragile flame, now on the brink of extinction, flickered against the winds of indifference.

The Piano Odyssey.

An anomaly in the fabric of existence. A force capable of reshaping time itself. And within it, he discovered the final equation—a truth so profound it could fracture the present, resurrect the past, and create infinite futures.

But some things were never meant to be known. Forces that feed on entropy have begun to hunt him. The world fears what it cannot control. And at the heart of it all, one question lingers:

If you could defy time, would you fix what was lost… or forge something greater?

A mind-bending fusion of hard science fiction, philosophical depth, and high-stakes suspense, Framequark is an electrifying odyssey into the nature of existence, free will, and the cost of ultimate knowledge. A must-read for fans of Arthur C. Clarke, Greg Egan, and anyone who dares to ask:

What if the past was never set in stone?

Preface At midnight, stepping outside to gaze at the sky reveals the most breathtaking scene imaginable. This boundless expanse of stars unfolds in real time, filling the entire world beyond Earth. Yet, upon closer inspection, one might notice that these stars seem somewhat suspicious, their numbers so vast that they almost appear to be an illusion!

This planet, predominantly driven by humanity, can sometimes be so utilitarian that it becomes unbearable. But opening this book is not about seeking profit; it demonstrates that the desire to explore the truth has never faded. It’s just that due to busy lives, and with no one providing answers, some have abandoned their childhood innocence, willing to carry their doubts to the grave. Within the limited coordinates of our historical understanding, I aim to use paradox to praise the universe, reflect on life, and attempt to restore the essence of the world, to find the logic behind our existence.

Now, please fasten your seatbelt, and join me in the quest for answers! We will embark from Earth, piercing through the sky, venturing into a dimension that transcends time and space, a background universe even more distant than the observable cosmos…

Chapter 1 - Solitude

A4, D5, G4, D5

“If time and space can be reshaped, then how can we ever trust what is real?” Neosun whispered, his voice trembling with doubt.

The stillness of the night was interrupted only by the faint hum of classical music emanating from the headphones. Neosun sat in his wheelchair, his gaze fixed on the complex mathematical equations sprawling across the pages before him. The glow of his computer screen illuminated his sharp, weary features—eyes sunken from sleepless nights, strands of premature white hair scattered across his desk like fallen petals. Yet, despite his exhaustion, there was a fire in his eyes, a passion undimmed by fatigue. To most, these calculations were nothing more than cryptic scribbles, but to Neosun, they were the very fabric of reality—a landscape of pure beauty waiting to be explored.

The world beyond his small house might as well have been a distant star. Time had long lost its conventional meaning for him; it stretched and contracted like a cosmic accordion, dictated by the rhythm of his discoveries. On this particular night—or rather, early morning—his mind was racing toward an elusive truth, something just beyond the reach of human understanding. He was no stranger to solitude, but this was different. This was the pursuit of the infinite.

Hours passed in an instant, and then, at last, his breath caught in his throat. A breakthrough. He had devised a theoretical model capable of predicting the existence of a previously undetected dark particle—something neither physicists nor cosmologists had ever documented. The implications were staggering. If his calculations were correct, he had uncovered a fundamental component of the universe itself. He named it Framequark.

But theory alone was never enough. He needed empirical proof, and that required equipment far beyond his means. His mind raced through the possibilities—government grants, private investors, venture capital. Each option seemed more impossible than the last. The world had little patience for theories that didn’t promise immediate financial return. He had tried before, submitting a detailed proposal to several investment firms. The rejection calls had been swift and definitive.

“The market you’re targeting is too niche,” one investor had told him. “We can’t assess its value.”

“Scientific discovery isn’t about market trends,” Neosun had argued. “It’s about uncovering the unknown.”

“And that’s precisely why we can’t fund it.”

The conversation still echoed in his mind, bitter and infuriating. He understood now—if he wanted to see this through, he would have to do it alone. But first, there was the small matter of survival.

His rent was overdue. Again.

“Neosun, it’s time to pay up,” his landlord had reminded him earlier that week, voice edged with impatience. “I’ve been patient, but this is getting ridiculous.”

“I just need a little more time,” Neosun had pleaded. “I’ve found a job. The money will come soon.”

It wasn’t a lie, though it was far from the truth he wanted. Through a disability employment service, he had managed to secure a position at the patent office, reviewing preliminary applications for new inventions. It was mind-numbing work, but at least it gave him access to a wealth of scientific ideas. He had submitted his own inventions before, though never under his own name. He had no interest in personal recognition—only in the advancement of knowledge.

His world was small, isolated by design. Social interactions were distractions at best, obstacles at worst. He had never pursued romance, never allowed himself to be tethered by the messiness of human emotions, partly because, despite the warmth of society, no one had ever wished to build a future with him. That was until he met her.

She worked in the archives department, a woman whose curiosity seemed to pierce through the walls he had so carefully built around himself.

“Would you like to see a movie this weekend?” she asked one afternoon, leaning casually against his desk. Her voice was light, teasing, but there was something earnest in her eyes.

Neosun hesitated. “I… I have experiments to run.”

“You’re always busy.”

“It’s important.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“Microwave physics. It’s complicated.”

She tilted her head. “Can I see?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous for you or for me?”

He smirked. “Both.”

She laughed, undeterred. “Anyway, you can’t stand up, so I’m not exactly scared of you.”

“That’s a pity.”

Her smile faltered. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Two weeks passed, and still, she lingered. She had noticed the tracks he always played on his device—those few pieces on a loop—and soon realized it was one of his peculiar habits. Even in a crowd, he seemed lost in thought.

“Do you really like these pieces?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He studied her for a moment. “Once you understand them, you can’t stop.”

“Do you want to understand me?”

He stiffened. “That’s… complicated.”

“Why? Am I not pretty enough?” she teased, though there was an undercurrent of something more vulnerable beneath her words.

“No, you’re very pretty. And smart. But…” He trailed off, looking away.

“Then what is it? Do you… like boys?”

He exhaled sharply. “You’re a good person. Someone better will come along for you. Not someone like me.”

“But I don’t care.”

“I do.”

Her expression wavered. “Is it because you already love someone?”

He hesitated. “In a way.”

“Who?”

He had no answer. With a quiet sigh, he turned his wheelchair and rolled away, leaving the question hanging in the air between them.

Neosun had never been interested in love. Not in the way most people understood it. He viewed human attraction as a biochemical reaction, a mere byproduct of evolution. Strip away the hormones, the instincts, and what was left? Nothing but the mind, the pursuit of knowledge. That was what defined him, what consumed him.

Thousands of brilliant, unpublished inventions filled his private notebooks. He had never sought fame, never desired recognition. Science was not a means to an end—it was the end itself. And so, he remained alone, tethered only to the grand, unattainable dreams that stretched beyond the horizon of human understanding. This obsession came from an extraordinary gene recombination, a gift from both his parents…

Chapter 2 - Destined Encounter

D4, G5, C4, F4

Twenty-five years ago…

The evening air carried a faint chill as Sam walked down Lawn Street—the same route he took home every night. It was routine, predictable, unchanging. Just like his life. Freshly graduated, he had been assigned as a middle school chemistry teacher—a far cry from the grand scientific aspirations he once nurtured. His days were now spent grading papers and preparing lectures, a mechanical existence dictated by the school’s rigid schedule.

The streetlights flickered, casting elongated shadows across the freshly painted benches lining the road. A peculiar scent of drying paint lingered in the air. Then, something unusual caught his eye—a small white rectangle resting on one of the benches. He hesitated, then stepped closer. A ticket.

He picked it up, holding it under the streetlight’s glow. “The Hall of Fate… Concert this Saturday…” he murmured. The name of the performing ensemble sent a jolt through him—a group he often listened to in the solitude of his apartment. It was a high-end event, the kind of performance he had always wanted to attend but never had the chance—or the money—to afford.

Ahead, an elderly man walked at a slow, steady pace. Sam quickened his steps, closing the distance. “Excuse me, sir,” he called out, holding up the ticket. “Did you drop this?”

The man turned slightly, his weathered face unreadable. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand before shaking his head. “Not mine.”

He continued forward, disappearing into the dimly lit street. Sam looked at the ticket again. A strange thought took root in his mind. This ticket is probably going to expire!

Perhaps, just this once, he would indulge himself. He slipped the ticket into his pocket and continued walking, feeling a rare flicker of excitement stir within him.

The night of Saturday arrived.

Sam stood outside the grand doors of the concert hall, watching the elegantly dressed crowd filter in. He hesitated. His worn blazer felt out of place among the polished shoes and silk gowns. It was absurd to think he belonged here. And yet… he stepped inside.

Guided to his seat, he was surprised to find himself in an excellent front-row VIP seat—a perfect view of the stage. As he settled in, something tugged at his memory. The person to his right. His posture stiff, his face partially turned away. There was something familiar about him.

Perhaps because he hadn’t purchased the ticket, he felt slightly uneasy, wearing a serious expression as he waited for the performance to begin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed a person in the audience to his right seemingly watching him. A prickle of unease ran down his spine. He turned his head to check—and sure enough, the person was looking at him.

“Hi, please don’t stare at me like that, it’s kinda creepy!” he said cautiously.

“I was looking at the left screen showing the piece being performed.”

Neosun turned his head to the left, following his gaze. “Ah… I really like the first one too, its diverse style has a surreal futuristic feel, very tasteful.” He awkwardly tried to change the subject.

Where had I seen this person before? he thought as he glanced at the spectator.

He opened his mouth to speak—but at that moment, the lights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd as the conductor raised his baton, and the first notes of the symphony resonated through the hall. The melody was familiar to him, but he had never known who the performer was.

Then she appeared.

A woman in a flowing red dress stepped onto the stage, violin in hand.

Sam’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just her beauty—it was something more, something impossible to describe. An aura. A presence. A gravitational pull he couldn’t resist.

The first stroke of her bow sent a wave of sound cascading through the concert hall, rich and hauntingly beautiful. He didn’t merely hear the music—he felt it, an electric current coursing through his veins. His fingers tightened around the arms of his seat. His world had narrowed to this moment, to her.

“The live experience is something else, isn’t it?” a hushed voice murmured from the shadows to his right.

“Indeed.” Sam’s brow furrowed.

The person beside him spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “She composed the main chords of this piece herself.”

Sam turned sharply. “Really?”

The person ignored this and nodded toward the stage. “She’s special, isn’t she?”

Sam’s gaze flickered back to the stage. “Yeah… yeah, she is.”

The idea that she had created such a masterpiece only deepened his admiration. He wanted to know more.

Before he could react, he felt something—rough, firm—grasping his right hand.

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat.

The person took off his white cowboy hat. “Sorry,” he muttered, quickly withdrawing his hand. “I accidentally grabbed your armrest.” He let out an awkward chuckle before clearing his throat. His laugh was a bit odd, odd enough to make Sam feel uncomfortable.

His breath caught—Am I sitting next to a creep?

And then it hit him.

His pulse quickened. What were the odds? He pretended to look toward the stage, but his eyes kept flicking sideways. Was this guy here the whole time? Or did he just… appear? Am I losing my mind? Wait… wasn’t there some urban legend about ghost seats in concert halls? The kind that only appeared when a cursed soul needed to listen to one last performance before dragging an unsuspecting victim into the afterlife?

He swallowed. Alright, calm down. You’ve been grading too many chemistry tests—your brain is melting.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just coincidence. But as Sam stole another glance, he noticed something unsettling. The old man wasn’t looking at the stage. He wasn’t even blinking. He was just… staring straight ahead, as if waiting for something.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. Alright, just act normal. Maybe he’s just a regular concertgoer. Maybe he’s not some kind of… I don’t know… a ghost that only appears under streetlights and concert hall chandeliers.

He decided to test the waters. “So…” he whispered. “You, uh… like classical music?”

The old man slowly turned his head—way too slowly for Sam’s comfort—until their eyes met in the darkness. Then, in a voice as dry as ancient parchment, he muttered, “No.”

Sam blinked. “Then why are you here?”

The old man’s lips twitched slightly. “Because you are.”

Sam’s brain short-circuited. His mind flashed through every horror movie scenario he’d ever seen. This was it. This was how he died.

The old man suddenly chuckled, snapping Sam out of his mental spiral. “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you.”

Sam exhaled, feeling an embarrassing amount of relief. “That scared me!”

Sam wasn’t sure whether to laugh or change seats.

The music swelled, filling the grand hall. For a while, neither of them spoke, lost in the hypnotic melody. But then, when there was a brief moment of silence between the pieces, the old man leaned in again.

“You like her, don’t you?” he chuckled.

Sam’s face burned. “Do you mean the piece?”

“Both the piece and her.”

He hesitated. “I… Of course!”

“Then don’t just admire from afar.” he added. “If you’re drawn to something, pursue it.”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” the old man said suddenly.

Sam choked on his own breath. “What?!”

“When I was young, I had feelings for a woman,” the old man continued.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. And what does that have to do with me?

“When she was leaving, I should've hugged her from behind back then,” the old man sighed. “But I didn’t have the courage.”

Sam played along. “And then?”

The old man waved a dismissive hand. “Never found someone I liked again. Spent my whole life alone, full of regret.”

“Oh… that’s kinda sad.”

The old man gestured toward the stage. “This violinist—she has a certain charm, doesn’t she? If I were younger, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me!”

“Is that so?” Sam smirked.

The old man grinned. “Kid, good luck!”

Before Sam could respond, the man stood and walked away, vanishing into the exit of the concert hall.

As the performance concluded, the audience erupted into applause. A standing ovation rippled through the concert hall. People slowly filed out, voices buzzing with excitement. But Sam remained seated, still spellbound.

Minutes passed. The grand hall, once overflowing, was now nearly empty. A few lingering attendees murmured among themselves, savoring the afterglow of the performance.

Then, something impossible happened.

She approached.

The performer in the red dress walked toward the front-row seats, her eyes scanning the sparse crowd. Sam’s heart pounded as she neared.

She slipped into a seat—right beside him.

She checked her phone, the screen’s glow illuminating her delicate features. She hadn’t noticed him, while the few remaining audience members approached to take photos with her.

He swallowed hard, trying to summon the courage to speak. Just as he parted his lips—she stood and walked away.

Sam sat frozen. A strange mixture of exhilaration and disappointment coursed through him. He had been so close—so impossibly close—and yet she remained just beyond his reach.

The walk home felt longer than usual. His thoughts whirled in a feverish storm, replaying every moment of the night. He had never experienced anything like this—not in twenty-five years of living. There was something about her, something undeniable. A mission took shape in his mind.

“If you’re drawn to something, pursue it.” The words echoed in his ears.

Yes, he was right, I have to see her again.

Was it ridiculous? Perhaps. Was it logical? Absolutely not. But logic had no place in the quiet longing that gripped him now.

Once home, he powered on his computer, searching for her name in the performance schedule. His heart leaped when he saw it—another concert, just days away.

This time, he wouldn’t rely on chance.

This time, he would be prepared.

He bought a ticket. And he would not let the opportunity slip through his fingers again.

Chapter 3 - Unfathomable Drive

D4, A4, D4, C5

The night air was crisp as Sam stepped out of the concert hall, his mind still adrift in the echoes of the performance. The music lingered in his thoughts, each note intertwining with the image of the woman in the red dress. Her presence on stage had been magnetic, almost unreal—like something conjured from the depths of his subconscious, a vision too perfect to exist in the mundane world. And yet, she was real. He had to see her again.

Sam hesitated outside the concert hall, his pulse quickening with a mixture of anticipation and doubt. The rational part of his mind scolded him—what was he doing, loitering near the performers’ exit like some starstruck teenager? But another part of him, deeper and more instinctive, urged him to stay. It wasn’t just admiration or infatuation; it was something more profound, something he couldn’t yet name.

The backstage doors stood a few meters away, marked with letters: D and E. He paced between them, running through scenarios in his mind. Would she even come out this way? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him seem like a desperate fool?

As the minutes stretched into an hour, a slow trickle of musicians emerged, exchanging quiet farewells before disappearing into the night. But she was nowhere to be seen. The anticipation curdled into unease—had he missed her? Or had she left through some private exit, forever out of reach?

By the time he finally conceded defeat and started walking home, the streets were nearly empty. Yet his mind was more alive than ever, replaying every second of the performance, every flicker of her expression. His world had tilted, and he wasn’t sure how to steady it.

A week later, Sam found himself stepping into another concert hall, heart pounding with a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. He had spent hours debating whether to buy another ticket, but in the end, resistance had been futile. This time, he chose his seat carefully—second row, dead center. Close enough to see every detail, but not so close that he felt like an intruder in her world.

As the lights dimmed, his breath caught. There she was.

She was dressed in a flowing white gown, ethereal in the dim glow of the stage. Unlike the last performance, she did not hold a violin. Instead, she sat at a grand piano, her fingers poised above the keys. The first note resonated through the hall, sending a shiver down his spine. Then, as if the night itself had taken a breath, the strings emerged—soft at first, like whispers in the dark, then swelling to embrace her melody, weaving around it, lifting it into something vast and luminous.

She wasn’t just a violinist—she was a pianist, too. Each keystroke was deliberate, precise, yet filled with emotion so raw it was almost unbearable. He could feel the weight of each note pressing into him, whispering secrets he didn’t yet understand.

For the first time in years, Sam felt truly alive.

When the final note faded into silence, Sam knew he couldn’t just walk away again. He had to see her, had to speak to her, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

This time, he bravely walked into the backstage entrance of the concert hall. Navigating the concert hall’s corridors, he followed the murmurs of conversation, searching for an opening. But when he reached the performer’s lounge, his confidence wavered.

A security guard eyed him warily. “Excuse me, sir. Are you looking for someone?”

Sam swallowed, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I’m looking for… I’m… a friend of hers.” He paused for a moment. “The one from just now, the pianist.”

The lie tasted strange in his mouth, but the guard merely gestured toward a hallway. “She should be in the dressing room at the end of the corridor.”

His heart pounded as he stepped forward. The door was ajar, revealing a glimpse of the room beyond. Inside, Nina sat before a mirror, gently wiping away her makeup. The bright lights cast a soft glow around her, illuminating the delicate angles of her face. She was even more breathtaking up close.

For a moment, he hesitated, hovering in the shadows, afraid to break the fragile stillness of the moment. She is removing her makeup, the soft motion of her hands almost ritualistic, as if each stroke was a silent prayer. But then, as if sensing his presence, she looked up. Her eyes met his through the mirror, sharp and knowing. He gently knocked on the door.

Sam’s throat went dry. “Uh… hi.”

She turned in her seat, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re…?”

Words failed him. Every practiced line, every carefully crafted introduction, dissolved under the weight of her gaze.

“Your… your outfit look… uh, great today!”

“Outfit?”

“Uh, no, no! I mean, your… your performance was… it was… amazing!” he fumbled, clearly flustered.

She laughed. “You’re so funny.”

“I—I just wanted to say your performance was incredible. I mean, really incredible. I’ve seen you play before, and I just… I had to tell you.”

Her smile softened. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Silence stretched between them, charged yet uncertain. He could feel the moment slipping away, and desperation seized him.

Near her, he felt a unique and unforgettable fragrance, something that seemed to awaken a sense of wonder he hadn’t known existed.

“Would you… mind signing something for me?” he blurted.

She tilted her head, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Of course.”

She took the playbill from his trembling hands, pen gliding smoothly across the paper. When she handed it back, their fingers brushed, sending a shockwave through his nerves.

“Here you go,” she said, her voice warm. “Not many people ask for my autograph. I hope it’s worth something to you.”

He glanced down at the elegant script. Nina Davis. Her name. Her real, tangible name. It felt like a key—one that unlocked the door to luck he hadn't even realized was there.

He looked up to thank her, but the words stuck in his throat. The moment had passed. Her attention had already shifted, her mind returning to the world beyond him. And just like that, he was dismissed.

Sam turned and walked away, the playbill clutched tightly in his hand. It wasn’t enough. He needed more.

As he stepped into the cool night air, he realized he had made a mistake. He had her name, her signature, the memory of their brief encounter. But he had failed to ask the one thing that mattered most—her contact information.

How to see her again.

A slow smile tugged at his lips.

Looks like he had work to do.

Chapter 4 - Magnetic Attraction

G5, E4, G5, A4

Sam had spent the past week staring at a small, innocuous string of numbers—a contact he had painstakingly obtained through the orchestra. Each day, he told himself he’d call her, and each day, hesitation paralyzed him. What if she thought he was just another obsessed fan? What if she ignored him?

Tonight, though, something inside him snapped. With a deep breath, he tapped the screen, initiating the call. As the ringing tone droned on, his heart pounded so violently he could hear it in his ears.

No answer. The silence felt deafening.

He exhaled, shoulders sagging.

Maybe she doesn’t pick up unknown numbers… or she’s rehearsing.

Trying to ignore the sting of disappointment, he waited. And waited. An hour passed. Nothing. Sam tossed his phone aside and rubbed his temples, frustrated with himself for even getting his hopes up.

Four hours later, his phone vibrated on the desk. A missed call. From her.

His breath hitched. He had missed it.

Scrambling, he called back immediately. The line connected after two rings.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was soft, almost melodic.

“Uh… hi.” He cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Sam. I… I asked for your autograph the other night.”

A pause. Then a chuckle. “Oh, it's you!”

He became even more nervous. “You remember?”

“I have a good memory for faces.”

Sam grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I was wondering when your next performance is.”

“New City, next Saturday. You coming?”

“Yes! Absolutely. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“Not at all…”

The call ended, but Sam remained frozen, staring at his screen, the warmth of her voice lingering in his mind. She remembered him.

Why didn't I say one more thing to her? I'm so dumb, I should've been more prepared.

New City’s concert hall was larger, grander than the last. Sam took his seat near the front, heart hammering. The lights dimmed. The stage bathed in soft golden hues. And then, she appeared.

Nina Davis. Oh, my goddess!

Dressed in an elegant, deep-blue gown that shimmered under the stage lights, she walked to the piano with effortless grace. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, then pressed down. The first note resonated, a delicate whisper that built into a cascade of sound.

Sam barely breathed. This wasn’t just music. It was a story woven into melodies, emotions distilled into sound. And for a fleeting moment, he swore her eyes flickered toward the audience—toward him. A silent acknowledgment.

After the final note faded, the audience erupted into applause. Sam stood with them, clapping until his hands hurt. As the crowd began to disperse, he pulled out his phone and, with newfound confidence, sent her a message:

“Are you backstage? I have something for you.”

Minutes later, his phone buzzed.

“We’re at the restaurant next to the concert hall having a meal. Join us if you'd like.”

Musicians, still dressed in performance attire, sat at small tables eating fast food. The moment Sam entered, Nina waved him over. “Hey, over here!” she called out, her voice cutting through the noise of the bustling restaurant.

“Hi!” Sam felt a little shy.

“You made it,” she said, scooting to make space.

Her two companions, both fellow performers, eyed him with curiosity. One leaned in toward Nina, whispering, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Nina laughed. “No, he’s just an audience member.”

Her friend smirked. “Handsome audience member.”

Sam cleared his throat, cheeks warming. “Uh… is this dinner?”

“Lunch,” Nina corrected, gesturing at the clock. It was nearly 3 p.m.

“You guys must work really hard.” He fidgeted slightly, feeling oddly out of place.

“We’re used to it.” Nina took a sip of her drink. “Want something to eat?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“This is our orchestra’s latest recording.” Nina handed him a personal device. “Feel free to share any tracks you like.”

He scrolled through the list, listening to snippets of each piece, mesmerized. They were all breathtaking, just like her live performances. After a few minutes, he returned the device.

“I transferred a few.”

“How many?” she asked, finishing the last bite of her sandwich.

Sam grinned. “Do I have to pay per track?”

“Absolutely,” her friend chimed in. “We’re expensive artists, you know.”

As they stood to leave, Sam walked with them to the exit, lingering a step behind. He didn’t want the moment to end.

“Your performance was incredible,” he said. “I’ll keep listening.”

Her friends walked ahead, leaving Nina and Sam alone near the door. Sam hesitated, searching for something—anything—to extend the moment. As he glanced around, his eyes landed on a vending machine tucked near the entrance. A small idea sparked.

He turned to Nina with a playful smile. “Bubble tea?”

She blinked in surprise, then laughed softly. “Ah… Sure.”

Sam bought two cups from the vending machine. As he handed one to her, he noticed her gaze linger on the back of his hand. With a small chuckle, he turned his palm up, feigning surprise at his own scar.

“Oh wow, still there. Thought it might’ve faded by now.”

Nina turned to face him, her eyes meeting his.

“Just a teaching accident,” he explained, taking a sip of his drink. “Happened during class.”

“What kind of class is that?”

“Chemistry.”

She blinked. “You’re a chemistry teacher?”

“A chemistry teacher who loves music.”

Nina smirked. “So, you mix chemicals by day and chase orchestras by night?”

“Something like that.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Did you really come all this way just to hear me play?”

Sam exhaled through his nose, as if caught in the act. He glanced at his drink and shook his head with a mock sigh.

“I think…” He lifted the cup slightly. “I came for this.”

Nina narrowed her eyes. “The bubble tea?”

“The bubble tea,” he confirmed, nodding solemnly.

She gave him a look. “So, you realized there was a concert happening…”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Crazy world we live in, huh?”

Nina rolled her eyes, laughing. “You’re not even trying to make that sound believable.”

He grinned. “Would you believe me if I said I was just avoiding the ‘obsessed fan’ look?”

She paused for a fraction of a second, then took a sip of her drink. “That,” she admitted, “I might believe.”

Sam smiled, this time a little softer.

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the distant sounds of the city filling the space between them. Then Nina lifted her cup toward him.

“To chemistry and questionable vending machine choices.”

Sam clinked his cup against hers. “To chemistry.”

They sipped their drinks in comfortable silence. The night air outside was crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic. Sam felt an odd sense of peace, like the universe had briefly aligned just to put them here, at this moment.

He didn’t know what the future held. But tonight, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Chapter 5 - Melody in the Rain

C4, A4, C5, G4

The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement as Sam walked alongside Nina. The streetlights flickered, casting golden reflections on the damp ground. The city was alive, yet in this moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the world.

“Do you often perform like this?” Sam asked, his voice warm with curiosity, glancing at her as she walked with a natural elegance.

Nina smiled, her eyes twinkling under the streetlights. “Yes, but I love it. The music… it’s my escape. When I play, I feel like I’m in a world of my own. Everything else fades away.”

“You must have some magical chords, then,” Sam teased, half-joking. He was mesmerized by the way she spoke—so passionate, yet so calm.

Nina’s laugh was like the softest melody. “I don’t know about magic,” she said with a playful glance toward him, “but it’s certainly an escape I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“Is your boyfriend picking you up?” The question slipped out before Sam could stop it, and his cheeks flushed the moment it did. He hadn’t meant to sound so… eager.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No boyfriend.”

Sam's heart raced, a little flutter of hope rising in his chest. “Really? No one’s ever swept you off your feet?”

She shrugged, her smile tender but distant. “They try, but I haven’t felt that spark with anyone.”

“Not even a little spark?” Sam’s voice was almost teasing now.

Nina’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a quiet sincerity between them. “No. But when I do find it, I’ll know.”

Sam grinned, feeling an unexpected surge of excitement. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure I’m around when that spark happens.”

She laughed, but this time, her eyes lingered on his for a fraction longer. “You’re bold,” she said, a spark of amusement in her tone.

“Your beauty is truly universal,” he replied with a wink, “It’s a rare quality these days.”

As they reached the entrance of her house, she turned to face him, her eyes full of warmth. “I'm here.”

He smiled, his heart a little lighter than before. “It’s been an honor getting to know you, Nina.”

There was a moment of hesitation between them, the night air thick with unspoken words. Sam felt his courage faltering but pushed forward. “Would you let me take you out to dinner sometime? I’d love to hear more about your music.”

Nina’s eyes flickered with thought, and for a moment, Sam feared she might decline. But then she spoke, her voice soft but genuine. “This week’s a bit crazy, but… maybe tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night it is!” Sam nearly grinned from ear to ear, unable to contain his excitement. “I know just the place—remember that little restaurant we passed the other night?”

She smiled, her eyes lighting up again. “Is it… the one with the orange storefront?”

“Yes, that's the one.” he replied happily.

The next evening, Sam stood before his mirror, adjusting his collar, fixing his hair one last time. He wasn’t usually one to fuss over his appearance, but tonight was different. Tonight felt important. By the time he arrived at the restaurant, the sky had darkened, and a light drizzle had begun to fall.

The rhythmic tapping of high heels on wet pavement made him glance up, just in time to see Nina hurrying toward him. She had a stray strand of hair sticking to her cheek.

“Nina!” he greeted, his heart fluttering at the sight of her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” she said, a little out of breath, holding an umbrella in one hand.

“It’s fine, I just got here too,” Sam reassured her, feeling a rush of relief that she’d come at all.

“I rescued a kitten on my way here,” she explained, brushing the damp hair from her face. “It was meowing by the roadside, its leg looked hurt. I couldn’t just leave it there. An old lady took it in afterward, though.”

Sam’s heart warmed at her kindness. “That’s a beautiful thing to do. You’re a true hero.”

She grinned, but there was a soft vulnerability in her eyes. “We’re all just like that kitten, aren’t we? Wandering around, trying to find our place in the world. Wherever we are, that’s home.”

As the rain picked up, Sam instinctively took the umbrella from her hand, holding it over both of them. He couldn’t help but notice how different she looked tonight—her face free of makeup, her natural beauty even more radiant in the soft glow of the streetlights.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice almost shy, as if sensing his gaze. “I didn’t wear much makeup today. Is that alright?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course it’s okay. You don’t need any makeup. You’re stunning just the way you are.”

Her eyes sparkled with playfulness, and she rolled her eyes, clearly amused by his words. “You’re a charmer.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a grin. “By the way, I meant to give you this the other night.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, holding it out to her.

“What is it?” She tilted her head slightly, leaning in to get a closer look at the small object.

“A violin,” he said, handing it to her with a grin.

She turned the delicate keychain over in her hands, her expression one of delighted surprise. “It’s so tiny! The smallest violin I’ve ever seen!” She laughed softly, and her eyes sparkled.

“It’s just a keychain,” he said with a chuckle. “But it might be the most musical thing I can give you.”

She smiled, her eyes meeting his, and there was something in that glance—a spark, perhaps—that made Sam’s heart race.

“You know,” she said, a little more quietly, “I didn’t expect a chemistry teacher to be so obsessed with music.”

“Well,” Sam replied with a wink, “Maybe if I didn’t study chemistry, I’d be a musician.” He paused, his gaze softening. “Then again, maybe I’m already playing the most important tune of my life right now.”

“I believe it. You must have a knack for it!” Her smile lingered, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away as they sat down at the restaurant.

The conversation flowed as naturally as the rain outside, lighthearted and full of laughter, until the topic turned to something more personal. The mood shifted subtly. The smile gradually faded, and a brief shadow crossed their expression.

“Actually,” Sam began, his voice quieter now, “but music was everything for me when I was younger. It… it helped me survive. After my parents were lost in an earthquake, I ended up in an orphanage. Music kept me sane.”

Nina’s breath caught, her hand instinctively reaching out to his. “Sam… I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you.”

He met her eyes, the weight of the memory still heavy, but he managed a small smile. “It was a long time ago. But music… it was my constant.”

She nodded, her fingers brushing his lightly. “I understand. Music has that kind of power.”

He smiled softly, his gaze drifting to her. “Did you always know you wanted to perform?”

Nina twirled the violin keychain between her fingers, the soft glimmer of its tiny strings catching the light. “My father wants me to take over the family business. But… I don’t think I belong in high society.”

“You want to follow your heart,” Sam said, his voice gentle, understanding.

“I just want a simple life. I want to experience the beauty of music.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, but inside, the melody of something new—a shared bond—had begun.

Chapter 6 - No Way Out

F4, C4, F4, G4

The lab was a confined chaos of crumpled papers, overflowing trash bags, and cryptic equations scrawled across every available surface. It was the kind of space that exuded both genius and desperation, a shrine to one man’s obsession with uncovering the fundamental secrets of the universe. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and old electronics, the only signs of life the blinking LED indicators on various pieces of jury-rigged equipment.

Neosun sat hunched in his wheelchair, his fingers tapping against the worn surface of his desk as he stared at the latest set of equations. The Framequark—a theoretical dark matter particle that he had devoted years to studying—remained elusive, yet tantalizingly within reach. The simulations suggested it was real, a fundamental building block of spacetime itself. But without empirical proof, without an instrument capable of observing it, he was just another crackpot physicist with a theory no one cared about.

No one was willing to fund a project with no commercial application. But Neosun wasn’t deterred. He had built his own models, run his own experiments, and constructed a theoretical framework so intricate that even he occasionally marveled at its complexity. His calculations suggested that Framequarks weren’t just fundamental particles; they were the key to understanding time itself. According to his simulations, each Framequark stored a fragment of historical spacetime, a physical imprint of the past preserved within the very fabric of the universe.

The implications were staggering. If he could find a way to detect and manipulate Framequarks, he could, in theory, access a record of the past—not just images or data, but physical three-dimensional reconstructions of any moment in history within the range of a given set of Framequarks. It would be a breakthrough that would redefine humanity’s understanding of time, of reality itself.

A quiet beep from his console brought him back to the present. His latest test was complete. On the screen, a complex waveform flickered, faint but undeniable. Neosun reached out, adjusting a set of dials on the prototype amplifier rigged together from scavenged parts. Across the lab, in a vacuum-sealed observation chamber, a small particle trap pulsed with erratic blue light. It was faint, unstable—but it was there.

For the briefest moment, a grainy, ghostly image flickered on the adjacent monitor. It was distorted, barely distinguishable, like an old film reel played on a malfunctioning projector. He saw the outline of a hand, the curvature of a chair—then the image collapsed into noise.

Neosun exhaled sharply. It wasn’t perfect. But it was proof.

The next morning, dressed in his wrinkled blazer, Neosun wheeled himself into the sleek, glass-walled offices of yet another venture capital firm. He had done this before, had watched the dismissive glances, the barely concealed amusement of investors who saw him as nothing more than an eccentric dreamer. But this time, he told himself, would be different. This time, he had proof.

He was ushered into a conference room, a long, minimalist space dominated by a polished wooden table. Across from him sat three investment executives, their attention divided between their tablets and the disposable coffee cups in front of them.

Neosun took a breath, then launched into his presentation. He spoke of the Framequark, of its potential to revolutionize physics, of the experimental detector he had designed to isolate and observe these elusive particles. He laid out his theory, step by step, using simplified analogies when necessary, adapting to the blank stares and occasional raised eyebrows.

Then he pulled out a portable tablet and linked it to the room’s display. “I ran my latest test last night,” he said. He tapped a button, and the screen flickered to life, showing the faint, ghostly image that had appeared in his lab.

“This is a Framequark signal,” he explained. “Not an artist’s rendering. Not a simulation. A real, recorded imprint from a point in spacetime.”

The investors leaned forward. One of them frowned. “That could be interference, or noise.”

“I expected skepticism,” Neosun said, “so I ran multiple trials. Watch.” He played a second clip. The outline of a human hand again, faint and blurred, but undeniably present. “The data is consistent. Something is there. Something real.”

“Framequark?” One of the investors finally interrupted. “What exactly is that?”

“An unconfirmed dark matter particle,” Neosun answered without hesitation. “But not just any particle. If my calculations are correct, it’s the fundamental unit of time itself. It carries a fragment of spacetime history—an actual, physical imprint of everything that has occurred within a given 32 cubic unit volume, lasting for approximately 12 minutes.”

The investor glanced at the ceiling. “You’re saying these particles… record history?”

“In a way, yes,” Neosun said. “But more than that. If we can link two Framequarks together, we can establish a bridge, a connection that could allow us to access parallel timelines. Time is not continuous; it’s granular, composed of these individual units, each containing its own self-contained reality. By manipulating these units, we could, in theory, alter the sequence of events—not rewriting history, but branching it into a completely new timeline.”

A younger investor had been silent up until now. He finally spoke. “You’re talking about time travel.”

“Not in the traditional sense,” Neosun said. He leaned forward and pulled a sleek metal sphere from his bag, setting it on the table. The investors watched as he twisted its top, revealing a series of nested, transparent layers inside, each one etched with intricate fractal patterns.

“Think of time as a vast, frozen lake,” he began. “Every event, every moment, is a point on that surface. Left undisturbed, it remains unbroken—a single, continuous reality.”

He reached into his pocket and produced a thin, obsidian-black rod no longer than a pen. Holding it over the sphere, he continued, “This represents Framequarks. They exist everywhere, but they’re inert—like ice crystals embedded in the frozen lake of time. Alone, they do nothing. But when you introduce the right energy source—”

He tapped the rod against the metal sphere.

Instantly, a pulse of violet light flickered through the etched layers. The investors leaned in as the inner structures of the sphere shifted, segments unlocking and reforming into new configurations.

“When Framequarks receive a surge of dark energy,” Neosun said, “they don’t just vibrate—they fracture reality itself.”

He pressed a hidden switch on the rod, and a thin filament of electric-blue energy surged between the sphere’s layers. Slowly, the sphere’s core began splitting apart, unfolding like the petals of an alien flower.

“This is the key difference between what I’m proposing and traditional time travel,” he continued. “We’re not rewriting history. We’re not moving through a pre-existing timeline. We’re triggering a quantum fracture—a controlled cascade that generates an entirely new branch of reality.”

He glanced at the youngest investor, who was staring at the shifting sphere, mesmerized.

“Imagine every Framequark as a potential crossroad in time,” Neosun added. “Left untouched, the timeline flows in one direction. But when we introduce dark energy, we force a decision—like tipping a balance at the quantum level.”

“Cool! That's interesting!” The investor’s eyes flickered with realization. “So… you can forge a mirror reality just by unlocking the power of Framequarks?”

“Exactly. Every Framequark is a locked door. Dark energy is the key. And once that door is open… a new reality is born.” Neosun replied, his voice steady.

“And, anyone could create their own desired mirror reality, right?” one of the investors asked, clearly intrigued.

Neosun gave him a thumbs-up. “You are right!”

At that moment, the sphere emitted a brief notification sound. Neosun reached forward and twisted the sphere shut. The violet light faded, and the structure returned to its original, seamless form.

“Sorry, it’s out of battery,” Neosun said with a mischievous grin, sticking out his tongue. The investors, momentarily startled, exchanged amused glances before the room erupted in laughter.

“Umm… Looks like there's quite a market for that!” Another investor smirked, tapping his pen against the table as he looked at his colleagues.

Then, one of the senior investors cleared his throat. “And you’re saying you can control this?”

Neosun met his gaze. “I’m saying I’ve already started.”

The lead investor placed his phone on the table. “And you want funding for… what, exactly?”

“To build the Framequark Amplifier,” Neosun said. “A device capable of detecting and interacting with these particles. It uses a gravitational quantum matrix to amplify the Framequark signal and expand it, allowing us to step into and observe past spacetime events. With further refinement, we could eventually manipulate those events, setting off new timelines at will.”

“How much funding do you need?” When the question was asked, Neosun felt a surge of hope, he paused, his tone carrying a sense of anticipation, firmly believing that the investor had been moved by the project.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

“The development costs are hard to estimate,” he admitted. “Maybe billions, even hundreds of billions.”

The investment partner let out an awkward “Hmm…” shifting uncomfortably. They exchanged another glance.

Then, one of the investors let out a short laugh. “This is ambitious,” he said.

“More than that,” another added. “It’s science fiction.”

“Even if we humor this,” the lead investor continued, “who exactly would use this technology? Governments? Corporations? Historians?”

Neosun crossed his arms confidently. “The first camera had no market,” Neosun countered. “Neither did the first electric light. This isn’t just a product. It’s the next step in human understanding of time and reality itself.”

Then, the lead investor closed his tablet. They stood up and shook his hand, bidding him farewell.

“We appreciate your passion, Mr. Neosun,” he said, “Best of luck.”

“Uh… Thanks for your time,” Neosun said softly. He nodded, gathered his things, and wheeled himself out of the conference room. As he exited the building, the city stretched out before him, indifferent as ever.

Another rejection. Another closed door. But as he moved through the crowded streets, he felt the familiar fire reignite in his chest.

He didn’t need them.

He would find another way.

Chapter 7 - Half Asleep, Half Awake

A4, A4, C5, A4

Neosun had heard the same dismissive words too many times. “You should be more practical and stop wasting time on things that have no real significance!”

Each rejection had piled onto the last, an ever-growing mountain of disappointment. His research proposals, born of meticulous thought and relentless effort, were dismissed as little more than science fiction. But the rejections had an unintended consequence—they sharpened his focus, pushing him deeper into independent thought, away from the distractions of the world. Time, slipping through his fingers one second at a time, had become his most precious resource. He had to use every spare moment outside of his day job to keep his goal alive.

The equipment he needed to validate his theory was beyond what even the most advanced scientific institutions possessed. The cost of developing such tools reached into the billions, potentially more. Without them, his calculations would always be incomplete, his numbers mere approximations of the truth.

He had tried to detect the Framequark spectrum, hoping to find an answer. But just as he was approaching preliminary results, his quantum device picked up something unexpected—anomalous data. The interference disrupted the normal operation of his equipment. He stared at the screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard, sweat seeping through his shirt. The data fluctuations on the monitor were like an echo from another universe, a spectral presence lurking just beyond the veil of known physics.

“Oh my God,” he murmured. “This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

His outward calm belied the storm raging within. Every nerve in his body was electrified by the anomaly. He tried everything he could think of, yet every attempt to make sense of the interference failed to align with known logic. He had always found solace in logic, in the structured precision of mathematics and physics. It was the foundation of his world—a world that, at this moment, was unraveling.

Just as he was about to slip into exhausted sleep, a realization struck him. His mind, half-dreaming, assembled the pieces of an invisible puzzle. A pattern emerged from the chaos of data. He had found something. Something fundamental.

His instincts screamed at him to get up, to document his breakthrough. But his body was no longer under his control. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

And then, footsteps.

His door creaked open.

“Neosun…”

A woman’s voice. Familiar.

Lying in bed, he turned his gaze toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, moving toward him with a slow, deliberate grace. His pulse quickened.

“Jessie?” His voice came out hoarse, disoriented. “I don’t have time right now. Just go. Please!”

She smiled and let her dress slip from her shoulders, revealing smooth, unbroken skin. She moved closer, her body casting shadows in the dim light. He covered his eyes with his hands, then parted his fingers just enough. He tried to turn away, tried to protest, but his voice failed him.

“Give it up,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his forehead. “Come with me.”

His body responded before his mind could intervene. As she pressed against him, her warmth seeping into his skin, he felt himself slipping, surrendering. Logic dissolved. Thought scattered. For a moment, there was nothing but sensation. Yet, in that instant, the more alluring unsolved problem still loomed in Neosun’s mind.

And then—The alarm clock jolted him awake.

Neosun gasped, disoriented, his sheets damp with sweat. The room was empty.

The next morning, at work, he caught a glimpse of her from across the office. Their eyes met, and for a split second, he hesitated, half-smiling, half-shaking his head. Then he buried himself in his work, pushing the memory aside.

“Neosun!” A voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up. “What is it?”

“The doctor we scheduled for you is here, waiting in the conference room.” his colleague Michael said.

Neosun scowled. “Please don’t treat me like I’m mentally ill. I know myself. I’m not delusional anymore. The episodes are gone.”

His colleague sighed. “I just saw you laughing to yourself. Were you doing mental calculations again?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Just talk to the doctor. What’s the harm? If you weren't so limited in your mobility, I wouldn’t be looking out for you like this.”

Neosun exhaled sharply but relented. He knew they meant well.

Inside the conference room, the psychiatrist greeted him with practiced warmth.

“Neosun, it’s good to see you.”

“Hello,” he replied, already feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on him.

“I hear you’re working on a research project. Can you tell me about it?”

Neosun smirked. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m very interested.”

He hesitated. “It’s about time,” he finally said.

“Time? Then… What’s the significance of the project?” “Its significance…” “Don’t worry, just speak your mind!”

“If I had been more obedient back then, she wouldn’t have gone out. If I had let go of my curiosity, she wouldn’t have left.”

The doctor frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

“To save my mother, to go back to my childhood to save my sister…”

“So… like a time machine from a sci-fi novel?”

“Interpret it however you like.”

The doctor studied him. “Has your research been reviewed by the academic community?”

“I haven’t published my paper yet.”

“You know, most people who lose loved ones experience prolonged grief. It can manifest in different ways—anxiety, detachment, even obsessive thought patterns. Trying to turn fantasies into reality isn’t always the best coping mechanism.”

“I’ve tried letting go,” Neosun admitted. “But another part of me won’t.” He paused. “That would count as obsessive-compulsive disorder, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s a form of self-suggestion.”

“And how do I do it?”

“You need to stop the project. It’s the only way you can begin to recover.”

Neosun nodded slowly. “Understood.”

“Are you going to let it go?”

Neosun met the doctor’s gaze. “Listen,” he said, “I’m quitting this job next week. And that project? As long as I’m alive, I’ll work on it until I die.”

He tilted the wheelchair back, rolled toward the door, then turned to the doctor. “And maybe, one day, you’ll do the same as me.”

Since the day his sister Nova was lost to a tragic accident, Neosun had lived in the shadow of her absence. His curiosity, once a refuge from chaos, had transformed into a battlefield where reason clashed with emotion. Was he insane? He didn’t know. But maybe—proving his theory right was the only thing that could prove he wasn’t.

Chapter 8 - Physiological Needs

C4, E4, G5, D4

The message had come late, much later than expected. When she picked up, Sam’s voice was soft, hesitant.

“Calling you so late… Did I wake you?”

“No,” Nina replied, trying to sound casual. She’d been awake anyway, mind tangled in thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle.

“What did your parents think of me yesterday?” he asked.

Nina hesitated, then chuckled lightly. “My mom thinks you’re very friendly. And handsome…”

“Really?”

“Sure…” A pause, then, “What are you doing?”

“Listening to music,” Sam said. “Thinking of someone.”

“Is that so?” Her voice was laced with curiosity.

“Nina,” his voice steady now. “Let’s meet.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Uh…”

“What time?”

“How about right now?”

“Right now?”

“Umm… I’m right outside your house.”

Then, a light scraping sound—the window opening. Nina peered out, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by, so I thought I’d stop to see you,” he admitted. “I have to go back and grade papers…”

Nina smiled and shook her head as she spotted Sam downstairs on his electric scooter, grinning up at her in the dim light.

“Tomorrow afternoon at six, let’s meet at the amusement park bridge.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. “You… you’ll go?”

Nina hummed playfully. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Sam groaned. “Nina, don’t do this to me. My heart is fragile.”

“Hmph, you’ll survive.”

“I’ll come pick you up, princess!”

“Don’t pick me up! I’ll decide tomorrow if I’m going or not!” Sam hung up the call, taking off his headphones. With a lingering smile, he spoke while turning his back to her, hurrying home as he slowly faded from Nina’s sight, like a dream slipping away.

Nina carefully closed the window, as if afraid her family might hear.

The next day, Sam arrived at the bridge ten minutes early. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he stared down at the water below. Every passing second felt heavier. What if she didn’t show? The thought lingered in his mind, twisting and turning like a storm he couldn't escape.

Then, a voice broke through his thoughts.

“Hey! Sam!”

He jumped slightly and turned to see Nina standing there, a smug smile on her lips. Relief washed over him, though he tried to play it cool.

“You scared me!” he said, exhaling dramatically.

She laughed. “Afraid I won’t show up?”

“I almost had a heart attack waiting.”

“Well, since I’m here now, let’s try all the rides in the amusement park!”

Sam made a face. “I’m afraid I might puke. What if I puke all over you?”

Nina smirked. “Then I’ll puke on you too, that way we’re even.”

She grabbed his hand, and together, they stepped into the glowing carnival of lights and motion.

First stop: the roller coaster.

“This is a bad idea,” Sam muttered as they climbed into their seats.

Nina grinned. “No backing out now.”

The ride lurched forward, and as the car climbed higher, Sam gripped the safety bar tightly.

“If I die, tell my students I loved them,” he said solemnly.

Nina burst out laughing, but her laughter turned into a scream as they plunged downward. Wind roared past them, and when the ride finally screeched to a stop, Sam staggered out, dizzy.

“I think I left my soul back there,” he mumbled.

Nina patted his back. “Come on, brave warrior. Time for the Ferris wheel.”

As they ascended in their cabin, the city lights stretched out before them, shimmering like stars, mirroring the constellations above. Nina leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut, lost in the beauty of the night where the heavens and earth seemed to meet.

“You tired already?” he asked softly.

“Mm, just… comfortable.”

Sam looked down at her, warmth spreading through his chest. He rested his head lightly against hers, neither of them speaking, just enjoying the quiet moment above the world.

Three months passed, their relationship strengthening with each passing moment, until one evening, Nina found herself at Sam’s place.

“I’m a bit hungry,” Sam said. “How about you?”

Nina stretched. “What do you want to eat? I’ll cook for you.”

“A talented woman like you can also cook?”

She shot him a playful glare. “What, you underestimate me? Where are the eggs?”

“Here they are! Are you making a cake?” Sam asked curiously, watching her roll up her sleeves.

Nina just smiled. She’d never cooked dinner for a man before. Tonight, she’d make something simple: egg fried rice.

“Do you like Chinese food?” Sam asked, leaning against the counter.

“I learned this from a Japanese friend in college…”

“Oh, I see.”

A few minutes later, they sat at the table. Sam took a bite and raised an eyebrow. “A bit… salty…”He furrowed his brow.

She smacked his arm, and they both laughed. “How about I cook for you instead? I’ll show you my skills…” Sam tied his apron around his waist, then cracked his knuckles with a confident smile.

After dinner, Sam led her to his study, where a grand piano stood by the window. Nina’s eyes lit up. “You play?”

“For fun. Nowhere near your level,” he admitted. “Can you teach me?”

“Of course! But… it’s late. We might disturb the neighbors.”

She pressed a few keys with practiced ease. “Nina, I love how you look right now.” As Sam’s hand rested on her shoulder, Nina felt the heat and instinctively moved, then wandered toward the window, lost in thought. Sam watched her from the side, something warm stirring in his chest.

“You can sit on my lap and teach me softly…” he teased.

She turned, cheeks pink. “Sam, so you’re this bad, huh?”

“You’re beautiful today,” he murmured.

She diverted her gaze to the streets below, where the city lights reflected off the glass, creating a soft glow. Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind. In an instant, she felt the heat rise to her face, her heartbeat quickening.

“Do you also love plants?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Sam chuckled. “Nina… your face is red.”

She gently rested her hand on her forehead, her eyes slightly lowered.

“I’m a bit tired today. I think I should go home.”

The faint glow of the streetlights reflected softly on her face. Sam walked her home and accompanied her to the door.

By the time she entered her house, night had fully settled. The moment she stepped inside, her father's voice cut through the quiet.

“It’s so late. Where have you been?”

“I’m grown up now,” Nina said, her voice firm.

Her father’s expression darkened. “I care about you.”

“I’ve listened to you all my life. But not this time. No matter what you say… whatever.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going? If you don’t listen to me, don’t come back!”

She froze. Slowly, she turned back. Her father’s face was unreadable, but there was steel in his eyes. She knew what this was about.

He couldn’t accept an ordinary teacher as her future husband. And because of that, because of something as trivial as status, he had had a big argument with her before. The memory burned hot in her mind.

Nina stormed out. That night, she didn’t go home. Instead, she stayed with friends from the orchestra, avoiding her father’s disappointment, his harsh words. She continued seeing Sam in secret, finding solace in his presence.

Nina knew she would have to make a choice soon—between her family and the man she loved. Then, the financial crisis struck. Her father’s steel mill, once a pillar of strength, now stood on the edge of bankruptcy. The empire he had built was crumbling. Sam carefully unwrapped the package and placed it in front of Nina with an eager smile.

“Open it and see!”

Nina peeled away the last layer of wrapping and gasped.

“A violin…” she murmured, her fingers tracing the smooth curves of the instrument. It was a bit rough around the edges, the craftsmanship not as refined as the professional ones she had seen, but there was something deeply personal about it.

“The one I gave you before couldn’t be played. This one can.” Sam’s voice carried a note of nervous excitement.

“Where did you buy it?” she asked, tilting her head as she examined it more closely.

“I… made it myself, as a surprise for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow! Sam, I didn’t know you were so handy!” Sam smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I’m good at more than you think.”

Nina felt her face heat up and swatted his arm playfully. “You’re so naughty!”

“Do you like it? Try it and see how it sounds…”

Nina lifted the violin to her shoulder, adjusted her grip on the bow, and pulled it gently across the strings. A soft, trembling note filled the room, followed by a delicate melody that flowed effortlessly from her fingers. Sam closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness,” she said warmly, lowering the violin.

Sam took a deep breath, his voice suddenly serious. “Nina… I want to have all of you today.”

She blinked, startled by his sudden intensity. “What do you want to do? Hmph! Bad person!” This was the scene he had conjured in the solitude of countless nights, the fantasy that had played out in the theater of his mind, again and again.

“You’re very nervous…” he observed, his hand brushing against hers.

That night, Sam turned Nina into a woman in the truest sense. Two weeks later, Sam rushed home after finishing his lessons. He had been looking forward to seeing Nina, but for some reason, he couldn’t reach her.

“Sam!” Nina’s voice echoed on the other end of the line.

“Nina…” he exhaled in relief. “Where are you?”

“The troupe scheduled two performances in a row,” she said, her voice tired but filled with excitement.

“Are you alright? You sound… different,” Sam asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Nina hesitated for a moment before replying softly, “Let’s talk when I get back.”

Sam frowned slightly but didn’t press further. Nina ended the call and walked back alone, her thoughts heavy and tangled. The city’s distant hum felt oddly distant, as if muffled by the weight of her thoughts.

When she finally arrived at Sam’s place, Nina walked in first and sat down on the couch, her head lowered as if lost in thought.

Sam closed the door behind them and approached her carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Nina took a deep breath.“I… I think I might be pregnant.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he moved a little closer. “You… really think so?”

She nodded hesitantly. “I haven’t been to the doctor yet, but… I took a pregnancy test myself, and it came back positive.”

Sam took her hand, his voice gentle. “We should go to the hospital for a check-up, just to make sure everything’s okay.”

Nina nodded softly, then after a moment of silence, a small smile appeared on her lips. “Have you ever thought about what we should name the baby?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

She let out a quiet laugh. “I know it’s sudden… I wasn’t expecting this either.”

After a pause, she continued, “But… if it’s a girl, let’s call her Nova.”

“And if it’s a boy?”

She thought for a moment, then grinned. “Hmm… if it’s a boy, then… Neosun!” Four months later, at the hospital, the doctor performed an ultrasound, leaving both of them anxious as they awaited the results.

“What did the doctor say?” Sam asked.

“It’s a girl,” Nina whispered, her eyes shining with emotion.

Sam grinned. “Wonderful, I have a daughter!”

Six months later, Sam accompanied Nina to the hospital, where she gave birth to their daughter, Nova.

“Her eyes are so big, just like yours!” Sam said, marveling at the tiny life in Nina’s arms.

“And her mouth and nose look like yours,” Nina added, touching the baby’s cheek.

“They really do…” Sam murmured, completely mesmerized.

The innocent look in Nova’s eyes filled their hearts with warmth. From that moment on, Sam and Nina embraced their new roles as parents, raising their daughter in joy.

From the moment Nova was born, Sam and Nina’s lives transformed.

The first night at home was filled with sleeplessness as Nova cried through the night. Nina paced the room, whispering soft lullabies while Sam rubbed his eyes, attempting to prepare a bottle. “Is it too hot? Too cold?” he muttered, testing the milk on his wrist.

“She’s still crying,” Nina said desperately.

“Maybe she just needs to be held.” Sam gently took Nova in his arms, rocking her slowly. To their relief, her cries softened into tiny hiccups before she drifted back to sleep.

As weeks passed, they learned to navigate parenthood together. They celebrated Nova’s first giggle, clapping and cheering when she finally said, “Dada!” and “Mama!” Nina spun in circles with Nova in her arms, laughing as the baby squealed in delight.

Every milestone was cherished—the first time she reached for their hands, the first time she tried solid food and scrunched her nose in confusion, the first time she took a wobbly step into their arms.

Chapter 9 - Genetic Recombination

A#4, C4, C5, C5

Two years later, Nina frowned at the calendar. “It’s been half a month, and my period still hasn’t come…”

Sam looked up. “Again?”

Their genes had recombined, and a few months later, they learned they were expecting a baby boy.

As Nina’s due date approached, a routine check-up turned into an urgent consultation when the doctor detected signs of fetal distress. After thorough examinations, he sat them down, his expression serious.

“Nina, your pregnancy is high-risk. Given your previous labor history, there’s a real concern for birth trauma.”

“What does that mean?” she asked nervously.

The doctor took a deep breath. “We have two choices: deliver early, which risks incomplete fetal development, or wait until full term. Waiting could result in severe complications, including significant damage to your body.”

Nina’s mind raced. She looked at Sam, who was already tense, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I want to wait,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear tightening her chest.

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but she squeezed his hand.

“I want to give our son the best chance,” she whispered.

“We need you to sign this in advance.” The doctor handed the consent form to Nina. She skimmed through it quickly and signed her name.

The following weeks were torturous. Nina’s discomfort grew unbearable as her body strained to carry the pregnancy to full term. When labor finally began, the delivery room was filled with tense energy.

Hours passed, and complications soon emerged. The prolonged labor led to severe tearing and hemorrhaging. The medical team moved quickly, but Nina was slipping in and out of consciousness.

The sound of their baby’s first cries filled the room, but she barely registered it. Her vision swam from exhaustion and blood loss. Still, she forced herself to turn her head, catching a glimpse of her newborn son before darkness overtook her.

When Nina briefly regained consciousness, she heard the doctor’s voice.

“Healthy baby boy, good weight,” she announced, wrapping the newborn in a soft blanket before handing him to a nurse.

Sam’s breath was shaky with overwhelming emotion. He took a step forward, but a nurse gently intercepted him.

“Come with me, Dad,” she said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll get the baby checked, cleaned up, and ready for you to hold him.”

Sam hesitated, glancing at Nina. She managed a faint smile.

“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and followed the nurse out of the room.

The moment the doors swung shut behind them, urgency filled the air.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” a nurse warned.

“Severe tearing—her uterus isn’t contracting properly,” another voice added.

The last thing she heard before fading into unconsciousness was the doctor’s urgent command:

“Prepare for emergency surgery—now!”

Hours later, Nina woke to the rhythmic beeping of monitors. Her body felt unbearably heavy, and an aching emptiness settled deep in her abdomen.

A soft rustling made her turn her head. The doctor stood beside her bed, his expression solemn.

“Nina,” he began gently, “the damage was severe. We had to perform an emergency hysterectomy along with reconstructive surgery. The tissue trauma was too extensive.”

She swallowed, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. She had known this was a risk, but hearing it felt like a betrayal by her own body.

“You’re saying…” she croaked.

“You won’t be able to conceive again,” the doctor confirmed. “And… the reconstructive surgery means there may be lasting physical changes.”

The doctor hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully.

Nina’s chest tightened. “Just tell me.”

He spoke in a low, measured tone, explaining things she wasn’t ready to hear.

Her fingers curled into the sheets. A long silence stretched between them.

Nina let out a shaky breath.

“I’ll tell him,” she said, her voice firm despite her trembling hands. “But not now. Please.”

The doctor hesitated. “Alright.”

She closed her eyes briefly, then nodded.

After she had stabilized, the door opened. Sam entered, cradling their newborn son. His face was lined with exhaustion but filled with awe.

“Nina,” he breathed, kneeling beside her, “he’s perfect.”

“Look, his head is bigger than his sister’s,” Nina noted with a laugh.

“He’ll definitely be smart when he grows up!”

Six months later, after they had tucked both children into bed, they returned to their room. The bedside lamp cast a dim, golden glow over the quiet bedroom.

Nina and Sam lay together in bed, rediscovering the warmth of closeness—their first since her recovery. Sam shifted slightly, sliding his hand gently around Nina’s waist, a familiar gesture of connection.

But something was different tonight.

Nina tensed. Subtly, but unmistakably. And then, she pushed him away.

Sam paused, blinking in confusion. He studied her face, expecting a teasing smile. But she was quiet, withdrawn.

After a moment, Nina sat up. Without a word, she reached for the bedside lamp and flicked the switch. The sudden brightness chased away the darkness, illuminating the flicker of conflict in her eyes.

Then, she spoke.

“I think it’s time for a change.”

Her voice was steady, but beneath it, something trembled—a hesitation, a certainty, an idea so radical it barely felt real.

Sam narrowed his eyes against the light, adjusting to both the brightness and the weight of her words.

“What do you mean?”

Nina inhaled deeply, as if the very act of voicing her thoughts required gathering strength. Then, she reached for his hand, squeezing it with quiet urgency.

“Let’s do something crazy.”

Sam smirked, intrigued by the seriousness in her voice. He tilted his head, a touch of amusement in his expression.

“Alright. What is it?”

Nina hesitated for just a second. Then, she said it.

“Celibacy.”

Sam blinked.

“Come again?”

“Celibacy.” She repeated it.

Then Sam chuckled—a short, incredulous sound. “You want us to become ascetics?”

Sam studied her face, waiting for the punchline that never came. The amusement in his eyes dimmed.

He shook his head, half-expecting her to break character. This wasn’t just an idea thrown into the air for discussion. This was something else.

“I’ve heard,” she continued, “that love without sex is the truest kind of love.”

Now she had his full attention.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. What’s going on? You’re serious about this?”

Nina cast her gaze downward. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“I believe that any form of intimacy that isn’t purely for procreation is… unnecessary.” She met his eyes. “We already have two children. We don’t need to do that anymore.”

A silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint ticking of the clock.

Sam exhaled, considering her words.

“I see what you’re saying. This won’t be easy.”

Nina’s gaze flickered, uncertainty momentarily breaking through her resolve. But then, she straightened her posture. She knew Sam’s love for her wasn’t shallow, but she couldn’t shake the fear that he might not see her the same way after this.

“Sex distracts us. It keeps us tied to something primitive, something beneath us.” Her fingers tightened around his. “If we remove it, maybe—just maybe—we’ll find something deeper. Something real.”

Sam studied her, the weight of her conviction pressing against him. He drummed his fingers against his knee.

“You think we’ll succeed?”

“I don’t know.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Isn’t sex supposed to be a good thing? A part of marriage?”

A flicker of doubt passed through Nina’s mind. A whisper of a question: Is this truly what I believe, or am I running from something?

She bit her lip but didn’t let the thought settle.

“It’s also something that clouds judgment. If we abstain for ten years, we’ll know we’ve risen above it.”

“Ten years?”

“Ten years.”

Sam didn’t answer right away. He sat there, processing, weighing what this meant—not just for their relationship, but for himself. “But it’s been six months since we’ve been close… so we only have nine and a half years left.” Nina added.

Finally, he asked, “You’re sure this isn’t some kind of test? A way to see if I love you beyond physical attraction?”

Nina shook her head.

“This isn’t a test.” She took a breath. “It’s evolution.”

“So… an experiment?”

Nina murmured, “Perhaps.”

She thought back to all the time she had spent perfecting her appearance, making herself look beautiful, desirable. How much of it had been for herself? And how much had been for the gaze of others?

Was my pursuit of beauty truly about self-expression? Or was it just biology? A silent, unconscious drive to attract, to reproduce?

If she could sever that drive, if she could strip away the layers of instinct—would she finally be free?

The idea thrilled her.

Sam studied her for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Nina’s breath hitched. “You mean it?”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Sam smirked slightly. “But are you sure we won’t just turn into roommates?”

For the first time that night, Nina laughed—a soft, genuine sound. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“We’ll become something greater.”

That night, they fell asleep wrapped in the quiet certainty of a decision that would change everything.

But was this truly the next step in human evolution? Or just another doomed attempt to outrun their own nature?

Neither of them had the answer. Not yet.

Time passed quickly, and before they knew it, both children were old enough for school…

“Kids, dinner’s ready!”

“We’re coming…” Nova and Neosun called out, running hand in hand across the backyard lawn.

As they ate, Nova suddenly looked up. “Mom, what is love?”

“Honey, why do you ask?”

“It’s our homework from the teacher today.”

Nina smiled. “Oh… love is thinking of others always. It transcends life and death, and it’s always there…”

“My brother and I are Mom and Dad’s love, right?” Nova asked.

“Yes, darling, exactly right!” Nina kissed Nova’s forehead.

Later, at the dinner table, Neosun frowned at the chicken leg on his plate.

“These were sacrificed for us,” Nina said gently. “Look how clean your sister’s plate is. Eat it up, don’t waste it!”

“Why do we have to eat it?”

“It’s the natural order,” Sam explained. “You need to eat to grow strong and healthy!”

“Maybe yesterday, it was happily eating grains on the farm…” Neosun mused. “Can’t we just eat vegetables and fruits instead?”

“That would be nutritionally deficient,” Sam said. “We need a balanced diet, so sacrifices have to be made.”

“Sis, why can't humans do something about their suffering?” Neosun sighed.

“Maybe plants also feel pain when they’re eaten, they just can’t express it,” Nova added. That kid had a way of turning dinner conversations into existential debates. For a moment, Sam wondered if this was Nina’s influence.

Sam focused on his food, glancing at Neosun before turning his gaze to Nina. “You two are something else.”

That night, Neosun sat at the table, staring at the discarded chicken bone in the trash. He realized that the cheerful little chickens in cartoons were not the same as the one on his plate. He wished he could save the farm animals, and he wanted to teach them to speak English, so they could say ‘NO!’ to humans.

“Sis, do you see that star?” Neosun asked as they lay on the grass.

“The really far one?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“Do you think we can reach it?”

“I think once we become ‘Starman,’ we can travel freely across the universe!”

Neosun’s eyes gleamed. “Sis! I want to become a Starman right now!”

“No, we have to grow up first! Go to school, graduate, get a job, get married, have kids, and then naturally grow old…” Nova said.

“Oh, fine…”

“But I’m older than you, so I’ll probably get there first!” she teased.

“Then wait for me when you get there, okay?”

“Okay, it’s a promise!”

At the supermarket, Neosun watched the fish swimming in a tank. It was like an “orca” navigating the cosmos, desperately searching for an escape…

“Dad, that one is swimming so fast!”

“Then we’ll take it,” Sam said, signaling the worker.

Neosun hesitated. “Okay…”

Back home, Sam placed the fish in the sink. Neosun and Nova crouched beside it, watching it intently, talking to it, even giving it a name.

“Starman! Keep swimming! Keep swimming! You’re the fastest!” Neosun cheered.

“Alright, Mom and Dad need to cook it now,” Sam said, rolling up his sleeves.

“Can we not eat it?”

“Sweetie, it’s not a pet, it’s for dinner.”

Neosun covered his face with his hands, his fingers parting just enough to watch as Starman’s fate unfolded. The fish that had been so full of life just moments ago was now being prepared for their meal.

Later, as the dish was placed on the table, Sam urged, “Neosun, come try it. It’s delicious.”

Neosun hesitated, staring at the plate. “It was swimming so well… and now it’s dead.”

“It wasn’t smart enough,” Sam said lightly. “If we didn’t eat it, someone else would.”

Neosun clenched his fists under the table. “I’m sorry, Starman! We didn’t mean to eat you! I wanted you to live…” he whispered before taking a reluctant bite.

From that night on, every time he passed the supermarket fish tank, he thought of Starman. No fish ever seemed as vibrant again.

Chapter 10 - Developmental Disorder

G4, D5, G5, E4

Neosun had always been a curious child, his mind constantly whirring with questions that often left his parents and teachers both amused and perplexed. He was different from his peers, a boy whose thoughts soared beyond the confines of everyday life.

“I like Dad, but I don’t like Mom,” Neosun confessed one day as he sat beside his sister, Nova.

“Why?” she asked, her large eyes blinking with curiosity.

“She always forbids me from doing things and sometimes she’s really mean!”

“Maybe you’re just too sensitive,” Nova replied, thoughtful. “I think both Mom and Dad are great!”

At school, Neosun was known for his relentless stream of questions. They came at odd times, often when the teacher least expected them.

“Why do batteries have a positive and negative side?”

“Why does the Earth have a North and South Pole?”

“Why do we have boys and girls?” “Two eyes, two ears, two hands… why does the human body always have pairs of organs?”

His classmates would groan or laugh. Some tried to answer.

“For symmetry!” one kid called out.

“One is a backup!” another added.

“Then why is there only one heart?” Neosun countered, eyes shining with anticipation.

“They must have forgotten to make a backup!” someone joked, and the class erupted in laughter. A few students hesitated, glancing at the teacher. But seeing no reaction, they joined in, their laughter swelling until it drowned out the teacher’s voice.

But no one could answer his deeper questions.

“If I flew to the very edge of space, would I get stuck out there because time stops?” “I don’t think so!”

Another suddenly shot back, “I think it would!”

“I think you’d disappear before you even get there!” one of the kids nearby added. “Why do we exist right now?” Neosun continued to ask.

A student from the back row scoffed. “Existence is just existence. If you don’t want to exist, just disappear!”

Laughter rippled through the classroom again. Neosun stopped asking questions.

His teacher, Ms. Morgan, sighed and rubbed her temples. “Neosun, these kinds of questions are not part of the curriculum. Please focus on what’s relevant for the exam.”

When he pressed further, her tone hardened. “Neosun! If you can’t stay on topic and are disrupting the class, I’ll have to send you to the principal’s office.” It was clear that the teacher Ms. Morgan was in a bad mood today.

At home, his mother, Nina, noticed his silence.

“Did you learn a new nursery rhyme today?” she asked, cradling him. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star… la la… la la… la la la… how I wonder what you are…”

Neosun didn’t respond directly but started humming softly.

During an exam, his mind wandered to a complex geometry problem from a higher-grade textbook. He forgot he was taking a test, lost in thought until the time ran out. His test came back with a failing grade, while his classmates, who once envied his intelligence, now whispered behind his back.

“What happened to Neosun?”

“No idea. Maybe he’s not so smart after all.”

“I think he just got lucky before!”

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” A group of students ran around him, pointing at his nose, their voices rising in cruel unison.

“I’m not an idiot,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“You are! A big idiot who failed the test!”

Nova, always protective, rushed to his side. “Don’t you dare talk to my brother like that!”

“Sis… I want to go home!”

“It’s okay, don’t be scared, I’m here!” Nova hugged Neosun.

At home, Nina confronted him with his grades.

“Not only did you fail math, but you also got zeros in two other subjects?”

“I…” he hesitated, eyes cast downward.

“What are these?” Nina demanded, holding up his textbook.

Sketches filled the pages—visions of futuristic cities, starships, intricate alien ecosystems.

“Just some… imagination,” he admitted.

Frustration flickered across Nina’s face. “How many times have I told you not to draw in your textbooks?” She ripped the pages out. “Go to the study room and reflect on your actions.”

Neosun stared at the torn pages, his breath hitching. Nova wrapped an arm around him later, trying to console him.

“Sis, why do I exist?” he whispered, his voice trembling between sobs. Tears streamed down his face as he began to doubt whether the world truly needed him.

She wiped his tears gently. “Come on, let’s wash your face…”

He withdrew into himself, speaking less and less. His interests grew more abstract, delving into theories and ideas far removed from other children his age. The weight of expectations and the monotony of schoolwork pressed on him like an invisible force. Anxiety coiled in his chest, suffocating.

One day, Nina took him aside.

“Mom has to go to rehearsal next door. Can you play with the kids here for a while?”

Neosun nodded slightly but said nothing.

Nova thrived in social settings, but Neosun grew more withdrawn, his words reducing to simple nods and shakes of the head. He spoke freely only to Nova.

As time passed, their celibacy plan entered its seventh year.

That night, Sam tried to get closer to Nina. At that moment, years of suppressed desire erupted within him, setting his body and mind ablaze. His hand reached for her…

“Follow your nature, you’re an animal. But resisting it is what makes you human. Which one do you choose?” Nina, just like before, pushed his hand away.

“I want to be an animal when I need to be… and a human when I don’t.”

This time, seeing the longing in Sam’s eyes, Nina didn’t refuse.

He grew hard, and then… she bent down.

The warmth of her mouth sent a jolt of surprise through Sam. “Looks like we’re about to fail!” he chuckled.

But then—Nina stopped. Something else came to mind. She couldn’t let this escalate. “Sorry, I can’t.” At least, not in her heart. She wasn’t ready to compromise any further.

Wiping her mouth, she slowly regained her composure. “Neosun hasn’t been talking much lately,” she said, shifting the conversation. “I think something’s wrong with him.”

Sam, still recovering from the abrupt stop, sighed and steadied himself. “Yeah… I’ve noticed too.”

“I’m taking him to the doctor tomorrow,” Nina said.

“While you’re at it, maybe you should see a doctor too?” Sam replied.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been seven years, Nina. This is insane.”

Nina glared at him. “What makes us human is our ability to reject our animal instincts!” She crossed her arms. “We’re not animals. Our love shouldn’t be based on animal behavior!”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it myself.”

This rejection sparked yet another argument. “I’m just tired of this!” Sam snapped.

She scoffed. “So what, should we just spread our legs like monkeys, roll our eyes back, and go ‘Ooh—yeah—ooh—god’ every few days like clockwork? Don't you realize how low this is?” “Sam, I just don’t want to be a tool for anyone's desires.” Nina’s voice was firm. “I refuse to play the role of livestock—not for a single second.”

“I see, I… I respect your feelings.” He exhaled sharply before adding, “I’ll keep supporting your plan, but let’s be honest here… Nina, you’re a weirdo.”

“Fine! I’m a weirdo!” Nina shouted, furious. “I’m frigid! I’m the one with the problem! Seven years must’ve driven you insane, huh?” She yanked the blanket over her head and burst into tears.

Sam sat in silence for a moment, then reached out and pulled the blanket-covered Nina into his arms. Through the fabric, his voice came muffled but sincere:

“I swear, I won’t think like an animal ever again. Happy now?”

Is frigidity a disease?

To a cat in heat, yes. Which is why, the moment it's neutered, it’s considered cured.

But when it comes to human desire—between uncontrollable urges and total indifference—who’s really sick?

The next day, Nina took Neosun's hand gently.

“Dad and I are taking you to the hospital.” Her voice was soft as she said.

His head jerked up. “No…” He shook his head fiercely.

“It’s just a checkup, sweetheart,” she said.

“What kind of checkup?” Nova asked, frowning.

“Nothing serious,” Nina assured her. “Just stay home.”

Neosun turned to Nova, his face pale. “Sis… I don’t want to go.”

Nova squeezed his hand. “Be good. When you come back, there’ll be a gift waiting for you under the rubber tree in the green tin can.”

Neosun hesitated. “Really?”

“Of course! I’ll be waiting for you there.”

The journey to the hospital was silent. Every so often, Neosun looked up at his parents, but they remained quiet. The sterile white walls of the hospital loomed ahead, indifferent and cold.

Hours passed before the doctor returned with his findings. He held up a brain scan, its intricate patterns glowing under the light.

“This child has a congenital genetic defect,” the doctor said slowly. “A chromosomal disorder causing a psychological barrier, among other factors,” the doctor added, his voice thoughtful. “It is known as autism.”

The words settled over them like a thick fog.

Nina swallowed hard. “Will he… be okay?”

The doctor hesitated. He had already asked Neosun many psychological questions, trying to navigate the labyrinth of his mind. He observed Neosun closely—his behavior, his reactions to the stimuli around him.

After a long pause, the doctor spoke, his voice slower now. “This child’s condition is not just genetic. It’s shaped by a world that’s not ready to understand him.”

He paused again, as if weighing his next words carefully. In another time, his mind would be a treasure, he thought, his gaze still fixed on the scan. But in this world, brilliance is often seen as a threat, or worse, something to be ignored.

He looked at Nina, his expression heavy. What if the world does? The thought lingered in the air, an unspoken question that hung heavily in the room.

Neosun sat on the examination table, staring at the fluorescent light above. He didn’t understand the medical terms. But he understood one thing: He was different.

Chapter 11 - Unexpected Incident

D5, F4, G5, A4

“Doctor, what should we do?” Sam’s voice was taut, as if holding back an impending storm.

The doctor exhaled, glancing between Sam and Nina. “I’ve reviewed the genetic analysis of both children… Based on the pathological system’s calculations, the probability of this outcome given your genetic combination is 95%. Nova was the lucky 5%.”

“So Neosun’s future development may face unknown risks?” Nina’s voice wavered, her arms wrapped tightly around her head.

“You need to be mentally prepared. His neurological patterns are atypical. The cause is hard to determine, and we can only monitor his progress through regular assessments.”

Nina stared at the screen displaying Neosun’s brain scan, the flickering numbers and waveforms feeling more like a foreign language than medical data. “How can this be?”

Before the doctor could respond, Nina’s phone buzzed violently in her coat pocket. She fumbled for it, still reeling from the weight of the conversation.

“Sorry, let me take this call real quick…”

She pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

A voice on the other end was clipped and urgent. “Are you the child’s guardian, Ms. Davis?”

Nina's nerves tightened again. “You are…?”

“This is West City Hospital. We need you to come here immediately regarding a child. We are in the emergency department.”

“What?” Her breath hitched.

“Your child, Nova, was injured at the Grass Street intersection.”

Nina’s blood ran cold. “What did you say?”

“Please stay calm. We are doing our best.”

The phone slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. The doctor’s office, the screens, the hum of machinery—it all faded into meaningless noise. Sam’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders, shaking her gently.

“Nina? What happened?”

Her lips moved, but no words came. Only one thought echoed in her mind: Nova.

The corridors of West City Hospital smelled of antiseptic and despair. Nina sprinted past nurses, past stretchers, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to break free.

“I am Nova’s mother! Where is my child?” Her voice cracked as she reached the reception desk.

The receptionist hesitated, her gaze flickering to a doctor standing nearby. He stepped forward, expression grave. “Ma’am… we are very sorry. We did everything we could.”

The world seemed to tilt sideways. “What? Where is she?”

“I am sorry. Let me take you there…”

She followed the three nurses in a daze down a silent corridor. Each step felt like wading through quicksand. The fluorescent lights above hummed, casting a sickly glow over the white walls.

Room 509. The doctor stopped.

Nina’s pulse thundered in her ears. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

The door creaked open.

Nova lay motionless beneath a white sheet. A single lock of golden hair peeked out from beneath the fabric, matted with dried blood.

Nina’s legs buckled. A raw, guttural sound tore from her throat as she staggered forward, reaching out with trembling hands. She touched Nova’s face—ice cold.

“Why?” The word came out in a whisper, barely audible. “Why is this happening?”

A nurse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, please accept our condolences.”

Nina collapsed against the bed, her sobs muffled against the lifeless body of her daughter.

The tragedy was just one in a growing list of unexplained vehicular accidents.

Smart transportation had long since replaced human drivers. People no longer questioned the safety of autonomous vehicles; they trusted the algorithms, the predictive analytics, the promise of perfection. Yet, flaws lurked beneath the surface—errors unaccounted for, edge cases ignored.

“The vehicle’s driving record shows that at the time of the accident, it was not carrying any passengers,” an officer explained at a press conference the following day. “It was an empty car, en route to pick up a passenger, when it struck the girl at the Grass Street intersection.”

“Can you confirm the cause of the collision avoidance failure?” a reporter pressed.

“We are investigating. So far, we have found no logs indicating system malfunction,” the vehicle manufacturer's spokesperson explained.

“What about the passenger who made the booking?”

“The passenger just booked the car during that time, we cannot disclose the passenger's identity.”

Another reporter spoke up. “Is it true the vehicle’s safety features were downgraded to cut costs?”

The spokesperson’s gaze flickered, but his voice remained measured. “The model in question met all regulatory requirements at the time of manufacturing.”

A murmur swept through the room. The answer was a confirmation wrapped in legalese.

A journalist in the front row leaned forward. “So, you’re saying it wasn’t illegal. But was it safe?”

The officer hesitated. “That is part of our ongoing investigation.”

Behind closed doors, experts at the vehicle inspection agency ran exhaustive diagnostics. The results were damning.

Cost-cutting measures had stripped the collision avoidance system down to its bare minimum, meeting the lowest legal threshold but lacking redundancies that could have prevented disaster. The manufacturer had downgraded sensor resolution, reduced AI processing power, and eliminated secondary verification protocols.

“This was a calculated risk,” one investigator muttered, staring at the report. “They knew what they were doing.”

The AI had failed in the worst possible way. Its pedestrian recognition algorithm, once state-of-the-art, had been replaced with a cheaper, less precise model. As a result, it misclassified Nova—not as a human life, but as an ‘unidentified stationary object.’ The system had been programmed to prioritize collision avoidance for high-mass, high-liability obstacles—like other vehicles, infrastructure, or paying passengers. A child, alone at a crosswalk, simply didn’t register as a critical threat.

“If the vehicle had been required to sync with the traffic light system for forced deceleration at red lights,” one investigator muttered, rubbing his temples, “if multi-layered AI safety standards had been enforced earlier…” He shook his head. “This could have been prevented.”

A senior analyst sighed, tapping on the report. “You know what’s worse? This isn’t a glitch. It’s a business decision.”

“They optimized for cost, not casualties,” someone murmured. “Yes, all in the name of profit margins.” another person added loudly.

“People don’t ask how safe a system ‘could’ be,” the senior analyst continued. “They ask if it meets regulations. And the regulators—” he let out a short, humorless laugh, “—they ask what the industry can afford.”

The room was full of people who had seen this before. Aviation. Medicine. Construction. Safety was never about possibility—it was about probability. Acceptable loss. The price of a life, calculated in quarterly reports.

Nina stood motionless as Nova’s small, white casket was loaded into the hearse. A crowd of mourners whispered around her, their condolences floating past like echoes in a void.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry today. She had told herself she would be strong.

But as the hearse’s engine rumbled to life, as the vehicle carrying her child’s body began to roll forward, something inside her broke.

She surged forward. Sam caught her by the shoulders, but she tore free from his grip—he had never imagined that gentle Nina could have such strength. Her breath hitched in ragged sobs as she stumbled toward the departing hearse.

“No—no, I can’t—”

Sam held her tight. She collapsed against him, her body wracked with silent screams.

That farewell was forever.

And Nina knew, deep in her bones, that nothing would ever be the same again.

Somewhere, in a corporate boardroom, numbers shifted. Projections adjusted. A settlement fund calculated.

Executives leaned back in their chairs, the crisis already becoming a statistic on a quarterly report.

“Give it time. Just like last time, people will forget, and our stock will recover.”

A quiet decision was made: the cost of a recall outweighed the cost of silence.

And the world moved on.

Until the next time.

Chapter 12 - Friends Nearby

G5, G5, A4, E4

The rain had finally stopped, but the streets were still slick with water, the reflections of neon signs rippling in the puddles like fragmented dreams. Neosun wheeled himself slowly down the narrow alley near his house, feeling the damp chill creep through his clothes. It was then that he saw it.

The mother cat was drenched from the heavy rain; she had likely been taking shelter under a car when it ran over her, killing her. Its tiny paws rhythmically kneaded mother‘s belly as it eagerly suckled the remaining milk. But as the mother’s body grew colder, an uneasy shiver ran through the kitten. It paused, letting out a soft, confused mew, then continued calling—first to its unresponsive mother, then to Neosun, its cries filled with growing desperation. Neosun responded softly, trying to soothe the kitten.

Something inside him twisted. He had known loss. He understood this kitten’s desperation, the lonely bewilderment of reaching for someone who would never respond again.

Carefully, he reached down, ignoring the ache in his arms as he lifted the shivering creature. The kitten soon quieted and began to purr, curling into his palm. It was so small, so light—so fragile.

“You’re coming home with me,” he murmured, cradling the tiny life against his chest.

That night, Neosun gave the kitten a warm bath, scrubbing away the dirt and fleas. It protested at first, mewling pitifully, but eventually settled against the soft towel he wrapped it in. Its fur, now clean and dry, was a deep, velvety black, save for the piercing starlike glow of its eyes.

“Starman,” Neosun decided. The name felt right. Something about the way the kitten gazed up at him, as if seeing beyond what was in front of it, reminded him of the stars—of infinite distances, of things both lost and waiting to be found.

Days turned into weeks, and Starman settled into Neosun’s small lab. Despite his own financial struggles, Neosun made sure the kitten had food, clean water, and a warm place to sleep. He watched as it curled up on his lap, kneading the fabric of his shirt with tiny paws, searching for the comfort it had lost. He understood. Some habits, born from longing, never truly faded.

The knock on his door came unexpectedly.

“Hey, man.” His colleague Michael from the patent office stood at the threshold with a box of pizza. “Heard you’ve been holed up at home.”

Neosun hesitated before opening the door wider. His house was sparse, the only food visible a half-empty pack of compressed biscuits. His colleague frowned. “This all you’ve been eating?”

Neosun shrugged. “That's nothing.”

“Then eat this.” Michael shoved the pizza into his hands. “You look like hell.”

Neosun was starving, eating with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Michael!”

For the first time in months, Neosun ate something warm, something that tasted like care. Michael clapped him on the shoulder. “We all want you back, man. Don’t let this be the end.”

The next morning, Neosun sent an application to resume part-time work at the patent office. Life had a way of dragging him forward, whether he was ready or not.

Months passed. Starman grew, but so did its restlessness. It began pacing the house, meowing incessantly, staring out the window as if searching for something beyond the walls. Neosun knew the signs—loneliness, an ache for companionship.

So, one afternoon, he found himself at the animal rescue center.

The staff led him through aisles of enclosures. Tiny creatures pressed against the glass, some blinking sleepily, others watching with the quiet intensity of those who had known suffering. Then, he saw it.

A white cat, barely more than a kitten, sat curled in the corner of its enclosure. But unlike the others… “I noticed that the cat’s fur is somewhat unusual…” Neosun asked, confused.

“The mother ate contaminated human garbage while pregnant, which led to her death.” the shelter worker explained. “However, the kitten was born with severe genetic mutations as a result of the contamination—weak immune system, poor health… It probably won’t live long.”

Neosun’s throat tightened. He understood what it meant to be born with a body that worked against you.

“I’ll take him.”

The worker hesitated. “Are you sure? He needs constant care.”

Neosun nodded. “Then that’s what I’ll give him.”

It looked like a white ball, and Neosun named it “Ballman”

Introducing the new kitten—Ballman—to Starman was not easy. The first meeting was tense, their small bodies arching as they hissed and growled at each other. Starman, larger and stronger, dominated, but Ballman refused to cower. Despite its frailty, it fought back, pouncing and tumbling, only to be knocked down again and again.

But it kept getting up.

Neosun watched as Ballman devoured its food with single-minded determination, as if survival depended on it. In a way, it did. The weak didn’t stay weak forever—It seemed that strength came from relentless eating.

Days passed. The fights lessened. Curiosity replaced hostility. Then, one evening, Neosun found them curled up together, Starman grooming Ballman with careful licks.

“You two finally figured it out, huh?” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

They had become a family.

Ballman grew, and the balance of power shifted. What was once an easy victory for Starman now became a real challenge. One evening, their playfight turned into something more aggressive. Starman lunged, claws extended, and before Neosun could stop it, a yowl of pain echoed through the lab.

“Starman! Stop!”

Instinctively, Neosun reached out, pulling Starman away. But in its panic, the cat lashed out, teeth sinking into Neosun’s wrist. The pain was sharp, immediate. Then, just as quickly, Starman bolted into the shadows.

Neosun stared at the blood welling on his skin.

He had forgotten—forgotten that trust between species was fragile, that no matter how much love he gave, nature still ruled in the end.

For hours, Starman stayed hidden. It wasn’t until Ballman crept forward, pressing close and licking its brother’s fur, that Starman finally emerged, wary but softened.

Neosun exhaled, rubbing his injured wrist. “We’re all just figuring it out, aren’t we?”

The days that followed brought a quiet understanding. To solidify their bond, Neosun wove two simple necklaces—one black, one white. He placed the white band around Starman’s neck and the black one around Ballman’s, a silent wish for them to care for each other, to bring balance where chaos had once ruled.

At night, Neosun watched them sleep, their small chests rising and falling in unison. He traced the curve of Starman’s paw with his fingertip, gently trimming its claws, marveling at how similar it was to a human hand. The way they stretched, the way their muscles twitched in dream-filled slumber—it was a reminder of a shared evolutionary history, a connection that spanned tens of millions of years.

And it sparked something in his mind.

Biological structures, cognitive mapping, consciousness replication— concepts he had thought about endlessly, theories that had consumed his waking hours and haunted his dreams. The way the brain organized memories, how time itself seemed to stretch and distort in the mind's eye, weaving past and future together in the endless present of thought. Could consciousness—true, self-aware thought—be more than just the firing of synapses? Could it be a field, a force that moved like time itself?

Neosun hesitated. He felt the weight of the question pressing against him, the enormity of it. For years, he had pursued the goal of replicating true artificial intelligence, a bridge between the mind and the machine. But perhaps he had been thinking about it all wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t just about simulating thought—it was about understanding time’s effect on consciousness. The way memories stretched with the pull of time, how experiences could fold and distort, becoming something more than what they were in the moment.

He turned toward his computer, his fingers hovering above the keys. His thoughts raced, his pulse quickening. The answers had been there, right in front of him, like a forgotten dream he could almost recall.

His hand moved, and the first words of a new research paper began to form:

“Time Field.”

A theory that could change everything, or so he hoped. He hesitated. What if it was too far out? What if no one would believe it? But then, the urgency of it all—the years of research, the failures, the need for a breakthrough—pushed him forward. With a final breath, he hit “send.”

Maybe, this time, someone would listen.

Sometimes, it took someone to believe in what others couldn’t. And then… nothing. No response. No interest. His paper, as groundbreaking as it seemed to him, sank into the abyss of academic silence. The field of theoretical physics was too rigid, too bound by established laws, too unwilling to venture beyond the comfortable. His theory had strayed too far from the mainstream.

The quantum devices, which had been designed to capture anomalies in time, had detected something again—something strange and inexplicable. But that very anomaly had become his greatest obstacle. The data was incomprehensible, locked in patterns that defied all known laws of physics.

The “Time Field” paper, his last attempt—like a stone thrown into an endless ocean, with no ripple to show for it.

Chapter 13 The Mentor’s Discovery

D4, D5, A#4, D4

Three months had passed since Neosun published his academic paper on the “Time Field.” To his surprise, the paper, which had been largely ignored by the mainstream physics community, caught the attention of an obscure yet brilliant cosmologist named Dr. Taylor Lee. An invitation arrived, written in a formal yet enthusiastic tone, asking Neosun to visit Taylor’s private laboratory. The prospect filled him with excitement.

Neosun arrived at a small yet well-equipped research facility tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves overflowing with books on theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, and cosmology. Whiteboards covered in complex equations filled the room, and various high-tech instruments hummed in the background.

A portly man in his late fifties, dressed in a simple yet professional outfit, greeted him warmly. “My name is Taylor Lee,” he said, offering a firm handshake. “I’ve read your paper thoroughly. While some of its concepts seem speculative, there’s something in it that deeply intrigues me.”

Neosun felt a surge of relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Dr. Lee! It’s an honor to meet you.”

Taylor gestured toward the lounge area in the room. “Come, sit. Let’s discuss your findings over a drink.”

He handed Neosun a cup of steaming hot coffee. Neosun accepted it with a nod but, eager to dive into the discussion, placed it on the table. “Dr. Lee, I wanted to ask—what do you think of the concept of Framequark?”

Taylor’s expression changed subtly. “Framequark? That wasn’t explicitly mentioned in your paper.”

“It’s based on the ideal model in the paper,” Neosun explained. “A heavy dark matter particle, peculiar particle that interacts with its surroundings based on memory. When it reaches a critical time limit, it becomes stationary.”

Taylor leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “A hidden temporal substance?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Neosun’s eyes lit up.

Taylor hesitated for a moment before asking, “Who told you about this?”

“I discovered it years ago while using my universal model simulator,” Neosun replied. “The phenomenon was so unusual that I couldn’t ignore it.”

Taylor nodded thoughtfully. “Currently, my focus is on quantum field theory and terahertz waves, but I’ve encountered similar anomalies in my past research.”

“That’s fantastic! Could you share your insights?”

Taylor sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s a deep and abstract field. The further you explore, the harder it becomes to find a definitive path.”

“I can’t find references or existing studies on this,” Neosun admitted. “Since you’re interested in my paper, you must have encountered similar theories. Even a rough explanation would help!”

Taylor exhaled slowly. “I remember that such a substance isn’t affected by external forces. Unless you use a rare substance… Do you know about magnetic monopoles?”

Neosun frowned. “But in my simulation system, a fundamental magnetic charge has never appeared…”

“Try increasing the simulation’s sensitivity,” Taylor suggested. “To formally study it, you’ll need to incorporate the theoretical concept of a magnetic monopole, which is essential for inducing the necessary interference in the system.”

“I’ll do that,” Neosun said determinedly. “But how do I calculate the exact distance between these particles? I’ve tried various measurements, but I can’t seem to align them with the expected starting point.”

“To determine that distance,” Taylor explained, “you need to consider the movement of the galaxy cluster. Relying solely on Solar System-based values is unreliable.”

Neosun leaned back, absorbing the information. “Then… how was this anomalous data generated in the first place?”

He picked up the anomalous data that Neosun had presented and examined it carefully…

Taylor's gaze shifted from the anomalous data to Neosun, then shook his head. “That’s beyond my expertise.”

They were so engrossed in their discussion that they forgot about their coffee, now sitting cold on the table.

Taylor finally stood. “Wait, let me make you a fresh cup.”

Neosun waved him off. “No need, Dr. Lee.” He hesitated before adding, “Would you be open to me joining your research team? I’d love to collaborate.”

Taylor smiled. “Of course. I'm looking forward to your joining.” “But I have other commitments to tend to first,” Neosun added. “I’m in the process of inventing some patents.”

Taylor became a guiding force in Neosun’s research, refining his theoretical framework, correcting misconceptions, and providing critical experimental data that had eluded him for years.

A few days later, Neosun returned to work at the patent office. After lunch, Jessie invited him for a walk. They left the office cafeteria and headed toward the beach next door. The sea breeze gently blew, and the waves crashed powerfully against the shore, yet the surroundings remained peaceful and quiet.

“I heard you published a paper recently and made a new friend?” Jessie asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Neosun replied. “Dr. Lee has been an incredible mentor. He not only answered my theoretical questions but also pointed out potential pitfalls I hadn’t considered.”

“That’s great! What kinds of pitfalls?” “About the connection between Framequark and magnetic monopoles.” Neosun smirked. “Are you really interested?”

Jessie laughed. “I’m just curious, that’s all!”

A week later, Taylor visited Neosun’s personal lab for the first time. Neosun proudly displayed his ongoing projects—technical blueprints, prototype schematics, and stacks of patent documents littered the workspace.

“This is what I’ve been working on,” Neosun explained. “I plan to use the profits from these patents to fund the necessary experimental devices.”

Taylor picked up one of the documents. “Coupling Ray Emitter…” He glanced at Neosun, clearly impressed. “You’ve been busy.”

“Some of them still need refinement,” Neosun admitted. “But once these are completed, I’d love to discuss one-dimensional string vibrations with you.”

Taylor nodded. “You're a genius, I’d be happy to help.”

Neosun’s ultimate goal remained clear: to push the boundaries of theoretical physics. His recent breakthroughs—Gravitational Field Generator, Universal Repulsion Engine, Quantum Communicator—were only stepping stones toward his greatest ambition. And now, with Taylor’s mentorship, he was closer than ever to unraveling the mysteries of the universe.

Chapter 14 - Returning to the Wild

C5, C4, A#4, G5

Early in the morning, the sound of magpies filled the air outside Neosun’s window. Their sharp, rhythmic calls echoed through the glass, capturing the attention of Starman and Ballman inside the house. The two cats perched on the windowsill, tails flicking in curiosity as they stared at the birds beyond the barrier. To them, the outside world was a tantalizing mystery—one they could see but never touch, like a screen forever out of reach. Neosun watched them from his wheelchair, amused. He envied their fascination, their ability to find wonder in the simplest things. The city outside, with its constant movement—people, cars, fleeting shadows—had long since lost its magic for him. But for Starman and Ballman, it remained an unsolved puzzle.

One afternoon, during an outing, Neosun witnessed a stray dog chasing a child through a crowded plaza. The child’s cries rang out in terror, though the dog’s wagging tail and playful bounds made it clear it meant no harm. The parents, however, didn’t see it that way. Their panic turned into outrage, and soon, a call was made. Moments later, a shelter worker arrived with a catch pole, quickly restraining the dog.

“Excuse me… where are you taking it?” Neosun asked as the worker prepared to load the frightened animal into a transport van.

The worker hesitated for a moment, eyeing Neosun’s wheelchair before answering. “Back to the shelter. Do you want to adopt it?”

Neosun glanced at the dog—ears pinned back, eyes wide with fear. His heart clenched. He already had two cats. Adding a dog… The thought alone felt overwhelming. The weight of his financial burdens pressed on him. But then the dog whimpered, as if sensing his hesitation, as if pleading.

“Leave me your address,” the worker said, before he could reply. “Think it over.”

That evening, Neosun returned to his lab, expecting the usual routine—Starman curling up on the couch, Ballman lurking near the kitchen. But the room was unusually quiet. Too quiet.

“Starman?” he called, making his way into the living room. No response. Ballman, sitting near the balcony door, looked up, then flicked his gaze toward the topmost shelf. Following his eyes, Neosun found Starman teetering precariously on the highest rack, his pupils dilated in panic.

“Oh no.”

“First, tell me how you got up there?!” Neosun demanded, half-exasperated, half-worried.

Starman let out a small, helpless meow.

“You really want to go out that badly?”

Using a vacuum cleaner handle as a makeshift rescue tool, Neosun coaxed Starman down. The cat immediately leaped onto his lap, rubbing against him as if seeking reassurance. That night, Neosun fashioned a leash from an old laboratory wire and decided to take Starman outside. Maybe just a small taste of freedom would be enough to sate his curiosity.

“Come on,” he murmured, securing the leash. “Let’s see what the world is really like.”

At first, Starman trotted obediently beside Neosun’s wheelchair, sniffing the air, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds. But then—a gust of wind, a rustling bush, an unseen force of instinct—and Starman bolted.

“Wait! Don’t—”

The leash snapped. A wave of panic hit Neosun.

“Starman! Come back! Don't go that way, my wheelchair can't get through!”

The cat wandered into the darkness, drawn by a sound, cautiously stepping into the bushes before disappearing from view. Neosun’s electric wheelchair wasn’t fast enough to follow. He searched, called, pleaded. But Starman was gone.

For the next month and a half, Neosun combed the neighborhood, his voice hoarse from calling Starman’s name. The silence of the empty house gnawed at him. Ballman, too, seemed to sense the loss, growing listless and withdrawn. “Starman must have gotten lost in the bushes,” Neosun told Ballman one evening, more to reassure himself than the cat. Ballman simply stared at the door, as if waiting. Neosun found himself staring at the scratches on his arm—marks left behind by Starman’s playful paws. The only proof that he had been there.

It wasn’t until a month and a half later that Neosun, still searching without success, decided to visit the animal shelter and inquire about adopting the stray dog.

“Hello, has the spotted dog from earlier been adopted?”

“No…”

“I want to adopt it. Where is it?”

There was a pause. Then the worker’s voice turned somber. “It was just euthanized yesterday.”

Neosun felt the air leave his lungs. “What?”

“If no one adopts them within a certain period, they have to be euthanized,” the worker explained. “We’re facing budget cuts. We can’t afford more dog food.”

Neosun gripped the armrest of his wheelchair. “That’s it? You just… kill them?”

“Look, the rich spend their money on yachts and hedge funds. We have to make do with what we have,” an elderly woman nearby remarked dryly as she selected a puppy.

Neosun’s stomach churned. The scene before him—the clean, bright shelter, the cheerful faces of adopters choosing the ‘cutest’ dogs—felt grotesquely detached from reality. He knew what happened behind the closed doors, in the back rooms. The unwanted were discarded. The sick, the old, the imperfect—they never got a second chance.

He clenched his fists. “So two dogs bite two people, and the solution is to kill ten thousand? That math doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Their roaming is a torment. This is humane.”

“Humane?” Neosun let out a bitter laugh. “Then why don’t you euthanize yourselves?”

The worker scowled. “Human rights trump animal rights. They invaded our space.”

Neosun’s voice trembled. “We’re not gods. We don’t have that right.”

At that moment, four masked workers from another room appeared, each carrying a cage filled with dogs. They moved with purpose toward the exit, the metal bars of the cages clinking as they shuffled.

Without hesitation, he wheeled himself toward the door, his palms sweating on the chair’s armrests. The workers stepped outside into a vacant lot, their steps methodical, as if they had done this many times before. Neosun followed, his pulse racing. He saw the grim expression on their faces, the lack of hesitation as they prepared to carry out their task.

“Wait!” Neosun called out, his voice strained with desperation. “Please, stop!”

He pushed himself forward, his hands trembling as he tried to break through the haze of reality and stand in the way. The workers paused, looking at him with indifference, as if his pleas were nothing more than a nuisance. But Neosun wouldn’t back down. He could already hear the low whimpers from the cages, the dogs too terrified to understand what was happening.

The worker glanced at Neosun’s wheelchair. “You look like you can barely take care of yourself.”

Neosun’s pulse thundered in his ears. “I’ll adopt them all. Every single one.” Neosun's voice cracked. “Can’t you hear me? They’re all mine!” They continued with their work, unmoved.

“No! No way! No!”

He lunged forward, crawling from his wheelchair onto the cold, concrete ground, his arms wrapping around the nearest dog, refusing to let go. Tears burned his eyes. He could hear the others—dozens of them—whimpering, waiting for their turn. He knew what was coming.

The shelter workers did their job. The law was on their side. One by one, the dogs were taken away.

Controlled.

Anesthetized.

The dead were piled together. The living huddled in a corner, awaiting their turn. The unruly ones were beaten until they stopped moving.

“Their fate will be you one day!” Neosun watched, helpless.

One of the older workers, a wiry man with thick glasses and soot on his sleeves, adjusted his frames and spoke flatly.

“Okay, bro,” he said. “In some parts of the world, even today, dogs are food. So are cats. Pigeons too.”

Slowly, Neosun dragged himself across the floor, his arms trembling beneath his weight. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing tears across his cheek, but the shaking wouldn’t stop as he reached back to the wheelchair.

He stared, incredulous. “You mean… tribal outposts? Remote villages?”

The man shook his head. “No. I mean people. Your people. Humans.”

A younger worker nearby, eyes fixed on a clipboard, chimed in without looking up.

“In many of those places, these ‘delicacies’ are part of the local economy. Culture, they say.”

The older man added, voice low and hard.

“Slaughter is a global norm. Cows. Pigs. Chickens. Lambs. The line isn’t drawn at species. It’s drawn at convenience.”

Another worker, crouched beside a rusted cage, let out a bitter laugh as he tightened the latch.

“Meanwhile, lions hunt on the plains. Sharks eat smaller fish. Nature is brutal. Why should we care who eats what?”

Neosun’s voice trembled.

“You can’t use nature’s cruelty to justify our own indifference. We’ve evolved. We left the caves. Isn’t it time we stop pretending we’re still in them?”

The older man glanced sideways.

“You ever heard the stories—about those who torture cats and dogs, just to laugh at their pain?”

Neosun blinked. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned in slightly.

“They’re the ones you keep calling ‘the humans who left the caves.’”

Then, almost casually, he added,

“Want to hear something even darker?”

A silence settled. Then he leaned back against the wall and spoke with grim clarity.

“Let me tell you what really happens—out there, where no one’s watching.

People are trafficked like livestock. Sold into slavery. Forced into labor, used as breeding stock, pushed into crime. Their organs—harvested like parts from a machine. Governments know. Some turn a blind eye. Others profit.”

Neosun’s face went pale.

“No… no, that can’t be real. Isn’t anyone doing something?”

“Oh, sure,” the man replied dryly.

“Some nations claim to be ‘civilized’. But when those dictators land at their airports, they roll out the red carpet. Handshake. Photo op. Trade deal.”

“But why?” Neosun whispered.

“Because,” the man said, picking up his tool again, “profit outweighs morality. Always has.”

These “stories”—clashed like thunder in Neosun’s mind. He had believed in progress, in reason, in goodness. But the world he saw now… was soaked in compromise. On Earth, creatures without higher intelligence were slaughtered for food. The ones deemed ‘smart’ enough were turned into pets, toys for human amusement—discarded when inconvenient. A society that called this process ‘humane’ had no understanding of the word.

And just as they did to animals, humans repeated the cycle among their own kind: the gentle were oppressed, deceived, and exploited by the cunning. It was not intelligence that ruled, but manipulation—draped in the language of civility.

And then the question—quiet, devastating—rose inside him.

Does God allow suffering just so we may learn to seek the light?

But why must they be the price of that understanding?

Is this grace—or a cruel calculation?

There had to be an answer. A reason. A justification for why life was treated this way.

But Neosun couldn’t find one. He had come to a profound realization: humanity's role was nothing more than that of a dictator within Earth's ecosystem.

Chapter 15 - Invalid Patents

E4, G4, G5, G4

Neosun had spent the past few weeks preparing to transfer his technological inventions—algorithms and solutions that had the potential for commercial development—to various research institutions. Although the anticipated returns wouldn’t be nearly enough to fund the advanced equipment he truly needed, they should have been sufficient to create a personal intelligent robotic assistant and build preliminary observational tools to enhance his research efficiency.

He arranged a meeting with a leading chip manufacturer. After a string of formal introductions, he found himself sitting in the sleek, chrome-lined office of the company’s director. The man, dressed in an immaculate black suit, studied the data Neosun had provided. Neosun looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“We’re very interested in your inventions,” the director finally said. “But…”

Neosun tensed. “But what?”

“These technologies are remarkably similar to patents we purchased not long ago. We’ve already incorporated them into our future market plans.”

Neosun felt a wave of pressure rise in his chest. “What? That’s impossible! Where did you buy them from?”

The director offered him a placid smile. “I’m afraid we’re bound by confidentiality agreements with the transferor.”

Neosun clenched his fists, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Here,” he said, pulling up additional schematics on his device. “What about these? They could revolutionize your product line!”

The director leaned in, scrutinizing the projections with a neutral expression. After a long silence, he leaned back and folded his arms. “Colud you leave them here? We’ll conduct a thorough review and get back to you.”

Neosun had heard that before.

Undeterred, he contacted several other high-tech firms and research institutes. The feedback was eerily similar—either the technology was deemed “already patented,” or companies lacked the prototypes necessary to consider mass production. Over and over again, his groundbreaking ideas were dismissed as redundant.

“A technology that utilizes Earth’s gravity to generate infinite energy…”

“A radio frequency device capable of creating three-dimensional images from air particles…”

“A sound transmission device using water molecule resonance for precise auditory projection…”

Every single one bore the same inventor’s name: Nightshade Williams.

Neosun stared at the patent registry in disbelief. The name punched through his chest like a hammer. Comparing these inventions to his own, he saw they had all been granted patents—while his versions had been systematically declared invalid due to a “lack of novelty.”

His first instinct was that someone had stolen his work. But who? And how?

Determined to get answers, he reached out to Jessie, a friend who worked in the patent office’s archives division. Together, they combed through the records.

Jessie frowned at the data displayed on her terminal. “This guy submitted a massive batch of patents all at once.”

Neosun leaned in. “When?”

“Judging by the timestamps… five years ago.”

Neosun’s pulse pounded in his ears. “That’s impossible! Three years ago, I conducted an extensive patent search, and there were no prior applications.”

Jessie hesitated. “If these patents were initially classified as confidential technology, they might have been sealed until recently. Officially, the search results only reflect publicly available patents. The patent office doesn’t assume liability for discrepancies caused by delayed disclosures.”

Neosun clenched his fists. “So you’re saying they were hidden? Who has the authority to do that?”

Jessie shook her head. “It could be a government agency, a corporate entity, or even a private investor with the right influence. But the scale of this… it’s highly unusual.”

The more Neosun examined the fine print of the patents, the more unsettling it became. The unique implementation details, the exact phrasing of the claims—it was all too familiar. Too precise to be a coincidence.

“Jessie, can you pull the inventor’s profile?”

“Give me a sec.” Jessie’s fingers danced over the keyboard. After a moment, she turned the screen toward him.

Neosun’s breath caught in his throat. The photo of the patent holder appeared, clear as day.

His mentor. His idol.

Neosun’s mind reeled. It didn’t make sense. That’s right… Only my mentor ever saw those patents. Maybe he submitted them on my behalf! He grasped at straws, but even as he spoke, the rational part of his mind rejected the notion. But how could the application dates precede my own invention records? This is wrong…

He had to confront him. Had to understand.

But Taylor Lee was nowhere to be found. His lab was abandoned, his phone disconnected. It was as if he had vanished from existence.

The man who had briefly guided his academic journey had, by all appearances, stolen years of his work. Yet, without proof, he had no recourse. The Taylor lab wouldn’t acknowledge an error, the patent office wouldn’t care, and legally, the inventions belonged to someone else.

Later that evening, he sat in the restroom of the patent office, unwilling to come out. Still, he couldn’t give up.

To contest the patents, he needed to file an extensive reexamination request—a process that required exorbitant fees. Desperate, Neosun took out a personal loan, plunging himself into debt to fight for what was rightfully his.

As the sun dipped below the waves, he arrived at the familiar shoreline. The salty breeze stung his face. He pulled a small, weathered spaceship figurine from his pocket—a childhood gift from his sister—and gazed at the distant stars, searching for the one that had always made him feel less alone.

Chapter 16 - The Strange Man

G4, D4, G5, C4

Seventeen years ago…

Under the vast canopy of a clear night sky, eight-year-old Neosun sprinted across the damp grass of the neighborhood lawn and collapsed onto his back, his chest rising and falling with deep, exhausted breaths. The endless expanse of the cosmos stretched above him, an infinity of shimmering points scattered across the black void.

In his small hands, he clutched a miniature spaceship—a battered toy he had discovered beneath the gnarled roots of the old rubber tree at the park’s edge. Every year on his birthday, his sister would leave a gift for him hidden inside a green tin box buried under that very tree. This year, though, the tin had been empty. He had dug deeper, scraping at the soil with small, desperate fingers, but all he found was the cold, damp earth and an absence that gnawed at him.

The boy's eyes welled with unspoken sorrow. The crossroads near his home still bore faint traces of bloodstains that had never quite faded, echoes of a past he barely understood but could never forget.

Neosun lifted the spaceship above his head, aligning it with the brightest star in the sky.

“Is Sister up there?” he whispered, his voice barely carrying beyond his own ears.

He moved the ship slowly through the air, tracing an imaginary flight path among the stars, pretending it could bridge the impossible distance. He wished—more than anything—that he could climb aboard and let it take him far away, up beyond the atmosphere, to wherever she was waiting for him.

Laughter rang out across the lawn, sharp and cruel. A group of older boys emerged from the shadows, their grins wicked under the pale glow of the streetlights. Before Neosun could react, one of them lunged forward and yanked the toy from his grasp.

“Come and get it if you can!” the ringleader sneered, holding the spaceship aloft just out of reach.

Another boy laughed. “What’s the mute gonna do, huh?”

“Idiot,” a third added, shoving Neosun’s shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling onto the grass.

He didn’t fight back. He never did. When his sister was around, she had always been his protector, stepping between him and the bullies with a fire in her eyes that could silence them with a single look. But she wasn’t here anymore. Now, he was alone.

Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Instead, he curled in on himself and kept his gaze locked on the sky, searching the vastness above for something—anything—that might give him strength.

A shadow fell over him. The boys fell silent, their bravado evaporating as they backed away.

Neosun blinked and turned his head. A tall figure in black stood nearby, his presence both imposing and strangely comforting. The bullies wasted no time fleeing into the night.

The man knelt down, his voice calm but firm. “Don’t cry.”

Neosun wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “Who are you?”

The man’s lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. “Don’t be afraid.”

Neosun hesitated before nodding. There was something about the man—something familiar, though he was certain they had never met before.

“Where are we going?”

Without answering, the man extended a hand. Neosun hesitated for only a moment before taking it. Together, they walked away from the bright lights of the park and toward the coastline, where the waves whispered secrets to the shore.

“Look up,” the man instructed.

Neosun obeyed. The stars that had been visible from the lawn earlier now appeared even clearer and brighter—The sky was alive, an ocean of celestial fire. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens, a brilliant river of stardust flowing endlessly through the darkness. Among the constellations, a single star gleamed brighter than all the rest.

“There it is,” Neosun breathed.

The man nodded. “Do you want to go to that star?”

“I do! I want to become a Starman and find my sister!”

The man pulled something from his pocket and unfolded it—a painting, strange and intricate.

“Do you like this?” he asked.

Neosun studied the image, tilting his head. “What is it? It looks so strange.”

The man’s eyes glimmered. “Keep staring.”

As Neosun gazed deeper, the abstract lines and colors seemed to shift before his eyes, forming shapes he could almost recognize. A spaceship. A girl. my sister?

His breath caught in his throat. “Are you a doctor from the hospital?”

“No,” the man said. “I live on that star.”

Neosun’s heart pounded. “Wow! You’re a Starman?”

The man nodded. “Yes, I am.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small spaceship toy—identical to the one Neosun had lost to the bullies. He placed it gently into the boy’s hands.

“Ah! Thank you, Starman!” Neosun beamed. Then his voice softened as he fiddled with the spaceship, asking, “Hmm… Is my sister doing well on that star?”

The man’s expression grew wistful. “Of course. She asked me to come and tell you that she misses you very much, and she also misses your mom and dad.”

Neosun’s eyes shone with emotion. “Really?” his grip on the spaceship tightened. “I miss her so much. I want to see her again. Please tell her for me!”

The man’s smile returned. “I’ll let her know. But promise me something.”

Neosun nodded eagerly. “What is it?”

“This will be our little secret,” the man said. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Neosun pressed the spaceship toy to his chest. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

The man stood, his silhouette blending into the shadows. Slowly, he turned and walked away, his footsteps silent against the sand. Neosun watched him go, clutching the toy tightly as he turned his gaze back to the sky.

He kept watching that star until dawn, when the light of the rising sun swallowed it whole.

Chapter 17 - The Black Wheelchair

A4, A#4, E4, C5

Two years later, the golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the hospital window, casting shifting patterns on the pale blue sheets. Neosun sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on the blanket. He was ten years old, but today, he seemed smaller, more fragile than ever before. His dark, inquisitive eyes flickered with a recognition that felt just out of reach, following the rhythmic tapping of Nina’s fingers against the metal bedframe—an old habit of hers when lost in thought.

She had always loved rhythm. The gentle taps, the steady beats. It had been their secret language before words had fully formed between them. But today, when she played a simple melody on a small, handheld keyboard, something they had shared since he was a toddler, Neosun only blinked at her, staring at the small keyboard in her hands as if he had never seen one before.

“Do you remember this song?” Nina asked, her voice measured, hopeful.

“…Song?” Neosun frowned, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue, like a foreign concept.

Nina’s stomach twisted into knots. Yesterday, he had recognized the tune instantly, humming along with her, even tapping out the rhythm on his lap. Yesterday, he had smiled. Today, it was as if the memory had been erased.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Maybe tomorrow.”

The doctor’s voice from earlier echoed in her mind: Functional disarray. A sudden neural discharge. Temporary impairment. But nothing about this felt temporary. The gaps in his memory were growing larger.

A nurse entered the room, clipboard in hand. “Ms. Nina, we need to run another set of scans. There’s been… an unexpected development.”

Nina’s heart lurched. “What kind of development?”

The nurse hesitated. “His neural activity is fluctuating unpredictably. We need to analyze it further.”

Before Nina could respond, Neosun’s posture suddenly stiffened. His hands trembled before curling into fists, clutching the sheets tightly. His breathing turned shallow, chest rising and falling too fast.

“Neosun?” Nina reached for him, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Then, out of nowhere—“I’m Mom!” Neosun said.

His wide eyes darted around the room, searching for something unseen. His fingers stretched toward the air as if reaching for something just beyond his grasp.

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. “No. No, no, no.” This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“Neosun? Neosun, look at me.”

She grabbed his trembling hands, but they were cold, clammy. Her vision blurred as panic surged through her, the world closing in.

He didn’t respond. His gaze was already past her, unseeing, lost in a reality she could not reach.

“Look at Mom! Son!”

Her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of helplessness. This time, the symptoms were worse than in childhood. She had seen him struggle before, seen him fade in and out of moments, but never like this. This was different. The disarray in his brain wasn’t just affecting his memory—it was consuming him.

“The abnormality is now affecting the area governing his limbs,” the doctor had explained earlier.

“What does that mean?” she had asked, the words thick in her throat.

“In the coming months, he could become paralyzed at any time.”

The words had struck her like a physical blow. She had stumbled back, gripping the armrest of a wheelchair to steady herself. He’s just ten years old! Her mind rejected the possibility. Not her Neosun. Not her little boy. Three days later, one morning, when she helped him out of bed, she discovered what she had been dreading most. His legs could no longer support him. The wheelchair showroom smelled of polished metal and sterile plastic. Rows of mobility aids lined the space, but none of them felt right. Nina ran her fingers over the armrests of a sleek black electric wheelchair, her chest tightening. This wasn’t just a wheelchair. This was Neosun’s future.

“Why don’t we try this one?” the doctor suggested gently, rolling the wheelchair forward. “It’s designed for comfort, with full lumbar support and an adaptive cushion to reduce pressure points.”

Nina turned to Neosun, but his gaze remained distant, unfocused. He sat on the edge of the examination table, his legs dangling, his hands resting limply in his lap.

“Neosun?” she called softly.

The doctor crouched beside him. “Would you like to try it?”

Neosun only blinked, as if he hadn’t even registered the words.

Nina lowered herself into the wheelchair. The seat molded to her instantly, firm but giving. She ran a hesitant hand over the black armrests, then gripped the joystick. The slightest push sent the wheelchair gliding forward effortlessly.

“It’s extremely responsive,” the doctor noted. “And it comes with safety assist features—automatic braking, obstacle detection, and a tilt function to help with posture control.”

Nina looked back at her son, hoping for a flicker of recognition, of interest. Nothing.

She turned back to the doctor, her voice barely above a whisper. “This one. We’ll take this one.”

The doctor nodded. “I think it’s a good choice.”

As the technician adjusted the settings to fit Neosun’s height and weight, Nina pressed a hand over her mouth. This was really happening. Her little boy, who had once raced down hallways on unsteady legs, would never walk again.

When they finally eased Neosun into the wheelchair, he didn’t react. He simply let them adjust the straps and footrests, his fingers curling slightly around the armrest.

Now, as she wheeled Neosun out of the hospital, those words echoed in her mind. He sat in the black wheelchair she had carefully chosen for him, his posture relaxed in a way that seemed more like acceptance than comfort. It was as if the wheelchair had become his only connection to a world he could no longer fully reach. As the path ahead grew bumpier, for the first time, he clung to the wheelchair as if it were an extension of himself, a tether to the world that was slipping away.

Nina tried everything to awaken his memories—old toys, familiar places, music they had once shared. Every day, she held onto hope that something, anything, would bring him back.

Her music career, once her entire world, faded into insignificance. None of it mattered anymore. Every hope, every ounce of love, every piece of her soul was now poured into Neosun. But as she watched him stare blankly ahead, disconnected from the boy he used to be, she couldn’t help but wonder—Had I already lost him?

Chapter 18 - The Limit of Emotions

D5, F4, G4, A#4

Emotions are paradoxical—sometimes indestructible, sometimes fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch. They are unseen, intangible forces, precious like dark energy, yet fleeting like virtual particles disappearing into the void. The stretching of time distorts them, creating cracks in what once seemed unbreakable. And when those fractures run deep enough, even the strongest emotions collapse beyond repair, leaving those who possess them stranded at the limits of their endurance.

Nina stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. A deep sense of unease settled in her stomach, twisting like a living thing. The air in the house felt heavier than usual, thick with words unspoken. Nina sat in front of Sam, looking up at him intently. After a long pause, she finally spoke.

“Would you rather confide in her than talk to me?” Nina’s voice was steady, but the tremor beneath it betrayed her.

Sam hesitated. “Did you go through our messages?”

“I’m sorry, I just… I needed to understand what you were thinking.”

His shoulders slumped, and when he finally met her gaze, there was something in his eyes she couldn’t quite place. Pity? Guilt? “I don’t want to hurt you, Nina.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m the only one hurting?”

The silence between them stretched unbearably. Once, their love had been as brilliant as a dying star, burning hot and fast. Now, all that remained was the cold, hollow core left in its wake.

Sam sighed. “Nina, I—”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Just don’t.”

Their love had given her Neosun, just as she had once given him Nova. It was ironic, really. Nova—their bright, shining dream—was gone, scattered across the cosmos like dust. And Neosun, their son, was slipping further away from her every day, lost in a world she could no longer reach.

The unconscious Neosun felt more like the discarded wreckage of our impulsive actions, she thought, a pang of regret twisting inside her.

Nina swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay composed. She walked to the small cabinet by the bookshelf and pulled out the violin she had once played on stage. The instrument was beautiful, well-crafted, but lifeless now in her hands.

“I don’t play anymore,” she said, offering it to Sam. “Throw it away for me. I can’t do it myself.”

Sam looked at the violin, then back at her. “Nina… I'm sorry!” he added. “Remember our plan? We succeeded, didn't we?”

Nina replied softly, “Yes. Thank you for putting up with everything for these ten years.” Nina held back her tears, trying to keep them from falling. She wanted to tell him everything—about her father’s passing, about the emptiness that had been creeping in, about the truth she had buried since Neosun’s birth—that due to the severe trauma during childbirth, her uterus and vagina had been completely removed. But the words wouldn’t come, as if the most important part of herself had been lost, and she had once feared revealing that would drive him away.

A month later, Sam packed his bags, looking torn, yet filled with a sense of helplessness and reluctance. Then, his movements became swift and decisive. “Take care of yourself,” her interrupted, she voice barely above a whisper. “And be happy.” She looked at him, her breath catching in her throat, but the tears wouldn’t fall. She couldn’t cry, not now, not in front of him. She had to be strong, even though every part of her was crumbling inside.

They stood there, facing each other across the dimly lit room. The distance between them felt insurmountable. Ten meters apart, yet she may as well have been standing on another planet. Then Sam turned, grabbed his coat, and pulled his luggage behind him as he walked out the door. She never saw him again.

Shortly after, Sam accepted a position overseas. He married someone else, had healthy children. Moved on.

And Nina was left behind with Neosun, abandoned with the weight of their past and the ever-growing burden of the future.

Years passed.

She spent every waking moment caring for Neosun while tending to her ailing mother. The weight of responsibility was crushing, but she bore it alone.

“Nina,” her mother had once told her, voice frail, “your father and I only ever wished for your happiness. This… this is all we have left. Use it to make sure Neosun gets the best care.”

“Mom…”

“Stay strong,” her mother whispered, squeezing her hand. “He will get better.” “Thank you, Mom!”

The next morning, her mother was gone. And Nina was alone.

One evening, she found herself standing on the pedestrian bridge overlooking the city. Across the skyline, the Ferris wheel slowly turned, its lights glowing softly against the night. She pulled out her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. But she never dialed.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. She simply stood there, letting the cool wind dry it as she gazed up at the endless stars above.

“Thank you for enduring this,” a voice said beside her.

She turned to see a stranger—an old man with kind eyes—offering her a tissue. “Whatever happens, nature is the best choice.”

Nina took the tissue, nodding wordlessly.

Life had dealt her wounds that never quite healed. She had spent nights lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, half-hoping the chandelier would come crashing down on her. She had stood at the edge of high places, wondering what it would feel like to let go.

But responsibility always pulled her back. Neosun needed her. And she was the daughter of parents who had loved her deeply.

So she chose to keep walking—not just for herself, but for those she had loved and lost.

For those who still needed her.

For the fragile, invisible force that kept her moving forward, even when she had reached the very limit of her emotions.

Chapter 19 - Intellect Burst

F4, C4, C5, F4

Nina’s personal computer always stored the health charts of two children. Year after year, Neosun’s height and weight data increased, reflecting the slow march of his growth. But the chart labeled ‘Nova’ remained frozen in time, forever halted at the last update from when she was nine years old. Height: 1.36 meters. Weight: 32.8 kilograms.

“If she were here,” Nina murmured, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric, “she wouldn’t fit in these anymore.”

The children’s clothes, long dry on the balcony clothes rack, fluttered in the wind. They had remained untouched since Nova left, silent witnesses to the years that had passed. But today, Nina carefully lifted them from the rack, folding them with gentle hands, as if the simple act might somehow summon the warmth of a child who was no longer there.

Inside, Neosun sat in his wheelchair, staring blankly ahead. For years, Nina had played the same passages over and over, as if trying to awaken something long buried deep within his mind. So day after day, year after year, she played alongside him, her fingers gliding over the keys in a patient, unwavering rhythm, waiting for a moment she wasn’t sure would ever come.

On this day, when she reached the tenth measure of a cheerful piece, she caught the faintest movement in her peripheral vision. Her breath hitched. Neosun’s fingers had begun to tap along with the beat.

“Neosun?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. Slowly, he turned to her. His eyes, once lost in a distant void, were focused on her hands. A flicker of something passed through them—a memory, an understanding.

She held her breath and continued playing, her fingers trembling slightly. Carefully, she repeated the passage. And then, he spoke.

“Mom…”

A single word, yet it carried the weight of years. Years of waiting. Of longing. Of nights spent clinging to hope.

Tears blurred her vision as she dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping him in a trembling embrace. “Neosun…” Her voice broke. “You’re back.”

After five years of silence, five years of endless vigilance, the moment she had prayed for had finally come.

Neosun tried to clutch his head. “My head hurts a bit.” “I remember…” Neosun murmured after a long pause. And then, as if a dam had broken, the memories came flooding back. Then he thought for a moment. “I feel tired.”

“Then rest for a while.” Nina lifted him from the wheelchair and placed him onto the bed. The next day, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over Neosun's blanket. Nina had prepared breakfast and watched as Neosun woke up in bed.

She felt a slight uncertainty, a quiet fear that Neosun might slip away again, losing himself to the darkness of his memory. But as she gently placed the meal by his bedside, the familiar act grounding her, a wave of relief washed over her when she saw his response—he was still here, fully present. The fear, though not entirely gone, eased in that moment, replaced by a quiet joy, a profound reassurance that the son she had waited for was not lost to her again. “Good morning, son.”

Neosun looked at the food Nina was holding, his voice soft as he murmured, “This is my favorite dessert.”

“Yes, you remember!”

Neosun lifted a weak hand and traced the faint scar on her arm. His brows furrowed. “The scar… did I cause it?”

Nina swallowed hard. “That’s not you. It's nothing to worry about.”

He shook his head, a shadow of guilt darkening his expression. “Sorry, Mom. It’s all my fault…”

“No.” She cupped his face, her touch warm and steady. “It’s my fault. But your waking up—this—is more important than anything.”

During his illness, there had been times when he couldn’t control his body, when he lashed out in confusion, striking her with all his strength until he had none left. And still, she had forced a smile, had cared for him, had never once given up. Because she had to believe. She had to believe that somewhere deep inside, her son was still there.

And now, she saw him again.

To fill the void of those lost years, Nina devoted herself to teaching him. Every day, she shared knowledge—recounting history, explaining science, immersing him in the world he had missed. It wasn’t long before she realized he was learning at an extraordinary rate. His understanding expanded faster than she had expected, his hunger for knowledge insatiable. Soon, he had surpassed even her.

“From now on,” Nina said with a smile, “ask GAI if you want to know anything.”

“Really?”

“If AI can’t answer, we can hire private tutors.”

Neosun hesitated. “Mom, actually… I can learn on my own.”

And he did. With an exceptional self-learning ability, he absorbed information at an astonishing pace, delving into subjects that fascinated him. Without external distractions, his adolescence became one of focused, undisturbed study. Every challenge, every equation, every experiment—he tackled them with an intensity that was almost beyond human.

One day, he came to her with a spark in his eyes—a look she hadn't seen in years.

“Mom! I have dreams. I want to try making some experimental equipment.”

Nina felt a lump rise in her throat. He was talking about the future—his future.

She reached out and cupped his face, her heart swelling with emotions too vast to name. “You know what? I thought you’d never wake up again.”

Neosun gave her a shy but determined smile. “Seeing you like this today, Mom, I’m really happy! I’ll help you!” “Well… Next month, I plan to test the theory I worked on before.”

She nodded. “As long as the process is joyful, it’s a success.”

She hoped to channel her once-deep passion for music into Neosun’s pursuit of knowledge. With her support, Neosun’s study—which had once been packed with nothing but theoretical physics books—was transformed into a nearly professional miniature laboratory. Despite being less than thirty square meters, this small room became the place where Neosun would conduct cutting-edge scientific experiments, untouched by anyone else.

Then, just as everything seemed to be falling into place, Nina felt it—an odd ringing in her ears. A pulse of pressure, like the air itself had shifted.

She pressed a hand against her temple, trying to steady herself. But the sensation didn’t fade.

Chapter 20 - Mysterious Windfall

C4, A#4, C5, G5

Neosun had always traveled these streets with his mother pushing his wheelchair, the world a blur of movement and color rushing past. Now, he moved forward on his own, his motorized chair gliding steadily through the city. Though his pace was the same, everything felt different. The towering skyscrapers, the flashing advertisements, the indifferent expressions of pedestrians—they all seemed distant, as if existing in a reality separate from his own.

His phone rang, shattering the silence. He glanced at the caller ID—another unknown number. With a sigh, he answered.

“Sir, we’ve just launched a new phase of high-end real estate,” a polished voice announced. “Each unit only costs 270 million dollars. Are you interested in investing?”

Neosun nearly laughed at the absurdity. “I’m sorry, not at the moment. Perhaps one day, I’ll contact you.”

As soon as he hung up, another call came through. He hesitated before answering.

“Excuse me, I’d like to introduce you to the highest-yielding financial product currently available, which suits you very well…”

“Hello, I’m from FAST Private Jets,” another voice chimed in. “We’re currently promoting the purchase of the 799 model jet with a 10% VIP discount…”

Neosun is running a hand over his face. “Please call someone else. I really don’t need these. Thank you!”

He ended the call and switched his phone to silent mode, staring at the notifications flooding his screen. These calls had been coming in for weeks—unsolicited, relentless, and utterly irrelevant to his life. He had no interest in luxury real estate, financial investments, or private jets. What he needed was something far more valuable.

Determined to put the distractions behind him, he changed his phone number, hoping for respite. But the nuisance of sales calls paled in comparison to what lay ahead.

After months of anticipation, the patent office’s decision arrived. Rejected. Every one of his re-examination requests dismissed due to insufficient evidence. His dreams—dreams that once seemed so attainable—now dangled just beyond his reach.

Neosun sought explanations. He went to the chief of the patent examination committee, then to the head of the patent office, pleading his case with meticulous calculations and theoretical models. But in the end, bureaucracy proved insurmountable. The cost of appeal was staggering, far beyond his means. The initial review fees had already drained him, and without funding, his vision remained trapped in blueprints and equations. He took on a hefty loan for this, and he would need to work as a patent examiner for at least 15 years to pay it off.

Yet, he refused to surrender.

“Whatever happens, nature is the best choice,” he reminded himself, recalling his mother’s words. He tilted his head toward the sky, watching a flock of birds cut through the clouds.

“Flying freely over the crowd,” he murmured. “Soaring without limits, living like a bird in the sky…”

The world around him remained indifferent. His ideas found no home in the rigid structures of society. No one recognized his potential, no one rewarded his efforts. He had no friends, no allies. Only a series of cruel truths that threatened to grind him down. But he still had his freedom. And he still had time.

Determined, he reorganized his thoughts, streamlined his efforts, and fueled his mind with an unquenchable thirst for discovery. He worked tirelessly, inventing, refining, creating. But the toll was heavy. Chronic sleep deprivation gnawed at his body. His heart stuttered, his vision blurred, his breath grew shallow. At 5 AM one morning, his heartbeat simply stopped for an unbearable moment.

“Perhaps I can help you.” A voice, calm and authoritative, cut through the fog.

Neosun blinked. It took him a moment to recognize the speaker—The Chief Examiner, a high-ranking official he had seen in meetings but never spoken to directly, as he was his supervisor’s superior.

The Chief Examiner regarded him with a composed expression, his tone was warm, almost sympathetic. “There might be a way to have your patents re-evaluated.”

Neosun’s breath hitched. “Really?”

The Chief Examiner nodded, already pushing his wheelchair forward. “Come!”

He pressed the elevator button to the 50th floor. A flicker of hope rekindled within Neosun.

At last, they arrived at an imposing mahogany door. A brass plate gleamed beside it: Director’s Office.

The Chief Examiner knocked lightly before pushing the door open. Inside, a spacious office stretched before them, lined with towering bookshelves and file cabinets. At its center, seated with quiet authority, was the Director.

“Sir, this is Neosun, the inventor of patents 6372035 and others.”

“Ah.” The Director rose from his seat, his voice deep and deliberate. “You must be Neosun!”

Neosun’s fingers tensed against his chair. “Yes, sir.”

The Director approached, eyes keen with interest. “Impressive work. Your inventions could change the world.”

“So… The rejection was due to an error?”

The Director exhaled thoughtfully. “Yes. A system error. Rare, but it happens.”

The Chief Examiner walked toward the adjacent room, marked “Invention Patent Archives.” The director exchanged a glance with him.

“But…” The Director’s voice dropped, cold steel beneath silk. His hands gripped the wheelchair firmly.

The Chief Examiner opened the Archives door for Neosun.

No files. No filing cabinet. No desk. Not even ground.

Neosun turned to look at the Director. “But what?”

The Director's expression was unreadable. “But I have no choice.” Then, without hesitation, he began pushing Neosun’s wheelchair toward the doorway—toward the sheer 50-story drop beyond.

“Wait… This is not a room.” Neosun’s voice wavered.

The wheels turned slowly at first, but the speed increased, the motion unstoppable. Neosun struggled, but the chair was locked, completely beyond his control. The sound of the wheels rolling faster and the wind howling in his ears filled his senses as he was helpless to stop it.

Then, with a final shove, the chair tipped forward.

The sky twisted. Gravity seized him. The world turned weightless.

Neosun fell.

For a fraction of time that stretched into eternity, his body teetered on the brink. The sudden cessation of circulation left his limbs cold and unresponsive, his consciousness teetering at the edge of oblivion. Then, with a violent jolt, his heart kicked back into rhythm. Blood surged through his veins, rushing back to his brain and extremities like a tidal wave reclaiming lost ground. A deafening, high-pitched ringing exploded in his ears, ripping through the silence like a shrieking alarm. It wasn’t an external sound—it was inside his own skull, dragging him back from the void. He gasped, his breath ragged and shallow, as his numbed fingers reached for his forehead—ice-cold beneath his touch.

He woke late that day, exhausted beyond words. As usual, he scheduled cat food for Ballman through his device, confirming the order before receiving two unread notifications. The first one read, "Insufficient balance!" The second one said, "You have a new deposit."

Confused, Neosun opened his bank account, expecting to see a meager sum. But what he saw instead made his breath catch in his throat.

“Account balance: $599,185,686,528.70.”

His fingers trembled over the screen. He blinked, counted, recounted. It had to be a glitch. There was no logical explanation. He checked the transaction history. The previous balance had been only a few thousand dollars. And then, at exactly 1:01:27 AM, an anonymous deposit had been made. The transaction note read only three words:

“Use it up.”

Heart pounding, Neosun called the bank.

“Is your system malfunctioning?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No, sir,” the representative assured him. “Our system has never encountered errors. Your account is in perfect order.”

“But this amount—this isn’t my money.”

“Sir, it is indeed registered under your account.”

“Then tell me where it came from.”

The line was silent for a moment as the bank employee checked their records.

“Sir, our internal system indicates that the remittance is from an anonymous hedge fund overseas. That’s all the information we have.”

“A hedge fund?”

“Yes, sir. The recipient, the account details, the authorization codes—everything is correctly linked to you.”

Neosun stared at the screen, his thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities. He had never heard of this fund. Yet here it was: an astronomical sum deposited into his account with no explanation.

Weeks passed. He verified and re-verified the validity of the money. No fraud, no miscalculations. It was real. It was his.

At first, he searched for answers, trying to make sense of the inexplicable. But in time, he accepted it. Maybe it didn’t matter where the money came from. Maybe this was fate’s way of correcting an injustice, a divine intervention in an uncaring universe.

The constraints that had bound him for so long had been shattered. No more rejection letters, no more budget limitations, no more sleepless nights worrying about expenses.

He stared at the impossible string of numbers, his mind looping endlessly over the remittance note. Use it up. The words echoed in his head, surreal yet absolute.

The realization hit like a surge of electricity, igniting something deep within him. A laugh escaped his lips—raw, unrestrained, triumphant. His dream, once a distant flicker, now burned with the intensity of a supernova. The world that had dismissed him, the doors that had slammed shut in his face, would all bear witness to what he was about to unleash.

Heat rushed through him, a fire long buried beneath the weight of rejection and restraint. Now, it roared to life, consuming doubt, shattering limitations. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with the intoxicating thrill of possibility. That smile—radiant, unwavering—was like a beacon cutting through the high walls, illuminating the vast expanse of the unknown.

This wasn’t just about money. It was about freedom. The freedom to chase his dreams. The freedom to build, to reshape, to fulfill every promise he had made to himself.

This was no ordinary windfall.

This was the catalyst for something far greater.

And he would make sure of it. To read more, please purchase the book at: thepianoodyssey.com