Neurolink System in the Modern World

After arriving in Seoul, I quickly checked my virtual map and discovered that my mom was at our old house

Without wasting a moment, I rushed back to my skyscraper, anticipation coursing through my veins as I hopped into my sleek sports car.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The engine roared to life as I sped through the bustling streets, each passing moment fueling my urgency to reach her.

Answers were what I sought, and I needed them fast.

Driving through the city streets, memories flooded back. Neon signs flashed by as I navigated the familiar roads, eager to reach our old neighborhood.

There weren't any people left there because I'd already moved Alyssa and others to one of the finished rooms in my residential area. The house was empty now.

When I pulled up outside our old house, I parked and took a deep breath. I knocked on the door, heart pounding with anticipation .

I waited for a couple of seconds, and then I heard her footsteps drawing closer.

CREAK.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing my mom dressed in casual attire—a white blouse paired with brown pants. As I laid eyes on her, my heart quickened its pace.

Her clothes highlighted her timeless beauty, fitting her perfectly. Her skin looked flawless, akin to a doll's, while her black silk hair gleamed in the light. Her jet-black eyes, enhanced by long eyelashes, were captivating. She possessed a beauty that any man would admire, leaving them breathless.

Seeing her again had an immediate effect, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me. She possessed a unique ability to make me feel flustered and emotional.

"Ji-hoon!" she exclaimed, wrapping me in a tight embrace, way different to her treatment back then.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and I could sense the sincerity of her emotions pouring forth from her heart. It was a moment of genuine connection, bridging the gap that had once divided us.

"Mom," I reciprocated the hug, my heart racing and my cheeks flushed.

The fresh aroma of her recently washed hair enveloped me, and the touch of her soft skin sent a tingling sensation through my body.

'Calm yourself,' I reminded myself, attempting to control my emotions. She was my mother, after all, and here I was getting lost in thoughts about how good she smelled.

This heartwarming reunion was broken by my twisted brain , but in the end I was able to control myself.

She released me from the embrace and wiped away her tears.

"I know you must have a lot of questions," she said softly.

"Let's go inside. You deserve to know the truth." Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of anticipation and unresolved mysteries.

I had been curious about her actions back then , and even though I found it weird , I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

We both entered the house and settled onto the sofa.

My mother took the chair beside me, and for a moment, silence enveloped us like a heavy blanket.

"Ji-hoon," she began to speak.

"Mom," I interjected before she could speak further, the question that had been nagging at me suddenly bubbling to the surface.

"Why do you keep calling me by my last name?" I needed to understand this peculiar habit of hers that had been bothering me.

"Why not call me by my name, Zyden?" I asked, curiosity and a hint of frustration coloring my tone.

Stunned by my words, she fell silent for a moment, her white complexion paling even further at my confrontation.

"It's because..." she stuttered, meeting my gaze with eyes that seemed to soften, filled with a mix of feelings.

"Please, Mom, tell me. I promise I won't be angry, no matter what you say," I reassured her.

Her gaze faltered, guilt etched across her features as she finally uttered the words, "It's because you're not Zyden."

Her hit me like thunder, heavy and unsettling. It felt like everything I knew about myself was being torn apart.

But I gritted my teeth, refusing to let my emotions show, even though inside, I was in turmoil.

"W— What do you mean?" I asked, my teeth grinding, struggling to maintain my composure and refrain from yelling at her in that moment of confusion and frustration.

"Ji-Hoon..." She reached out with her small hands in an attempt to calm me down.

"Don't touch me! And don't call me Ji-hoon. I asked you, what do you mean by that!" I shouted, consumed by extreme hatred as emotions surged within me, threatening to overflow.

She was taken aback by my outburst, her expression reflecting surprise and perhaps fear by my scream.

In truth, my emotions were amplified right now. Under normal circumstances, I would have taken a moment to collect myself, maybe even brushed off the revelation entirely.

But now, everything felt heightened, raw, and impossible to ignore.

"Then who am I then? Those memories about you, about Dad! About our lives together!" I pointed out, adamant that the memories I held were real, unable to comprehend how they could be anything but authentic.

"They're true," she acknowledged softly, her gaze filled with sadness and guilt.

"Then why do you say that I'm not Zyden? I remember it all so vividly— you calling me Zyden, our times together, how you and Dad would always play with me. How you would cook my favorite food, read me stories before I sleep. I remember every moment!" My voice quivered with a blend of frustration and desperation as I clung tightly to the memories that had shaped my sense of self.

She paused for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes, a silent testament to the depth of emotion swirling within her.

"They are true memories. But its more complicated ," she answered weakly

"W-What are you talking about ?" I asked .

"Ji-hoon, the memory you have, those are not your real memory. Those memories are..." Her voice trailed off, weighed down by the heaviness of her revelation, leaving the truth hanging between us, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Who?" I asked, my hands trembling as I waited for her response.

"Those are the memories of …,"