November 1, 2030

  Hiroshima University officially appointed Professor Goyeun in a formal position. Goyeun felt a sense of pride. She had often faced subtle discrimination and had been quite intimidated while living in japan, leading to frequent mistakes in her teaching. But somehow, in recent days, things had changed significantly. She felt a sense of accomplishment when she performed well at work, and when she went to sleep, she felt happier than usual, making it hard to wake up. For the record, all of this was the result of Gamamusa’s manipulation.

  “Hmm… has she fallen asleep now?” Gamamusa transmitted wireless signals to the wires embedded in her brain through the computer monitor. The signals triggered dopamine release during work hours, making her work diligently, and serotonin release during sleep or meals, allowing her to focus on resting or eating. Of course, the fact that she could succeed with this level of support was a testament to Goyeun’s own remarkable ability. “Finally, tomorrow she’ll step into the microbiology research institute.”

  …

  The microbiology research institute at Hiroshima University was surprisingly ordinary. Glass jars for experiments lined in the cabinets, and researchers observed cultures of chemicals and microorganisms under microscopes. Goyeun thought she quite liked the place. She thanked the researcher guiding her and took a seat at her designated spot. The researcher brought her a few microbe samples and placed them on her desk. They were microbial cultures used for biofuels. “These are all low-grade cultures. They’re nowhere near good enough,” Gamamusa mused to himself. He hadn’t expected Goyeun to be this passive. In the end, Gamamusa made a phone call.

  Ring… ring… click. Someone picked up Gamamusa’s call. “…What’s up, Mr. Gama?” Lee Yeol-gi’s voice trembled softly. “Have you arrived in Shinan? Where are you right now? I’ve got a favor to ask. Before the National Intelligence Service (NIS) gets there, go to the Shinan salt farm and infiltrate them by getting a job inside. The NIS will probably come looking for you as part of their investigation.” Gamamusa made his request. Lee Yeol-gi broke out in a cold sweat. “Heh… are you crazy? Well, I decided to work with you, so this is probably nothing. But can I ask why?”

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  Gamamusa glanced at the monitor before continuing the call. “Here’s the thing… I already know where the real Lee Yeol-gi is. He’s probably on an uninhabited island three kilometers from the Taepyeong salt farm. Go there and expose the location of Lee Yeol-gi’s body.” Lee Yeol-gi was puzzled by Gamamusa’s urgency. Gamamusa continued, “I know I’m rushing, and if we mess this up, everything could fall apart. There’s another reason I’m in such a hurry. The broadcasting department from Hiroshima University is heading to Shinan. They’re going to investigate the salt farm slaves. When they do, act like a victim of forced labor and come over here under the pretense of being interviewed. I need your help at our university.”

  Lee Yeol-gi was confused. “…If the NIS finds out that the real Lee Yeol-gi is dead, who am I supposed to pretend to be? If I go back to being Park Sung-jae, I’ll be arrested for desertion.” Gamamusa murmured quietly, “…Disguise yourself as Gamagogi. You know, my father worked at the university. Disguise yourself and go back.” Lee Yeol-gi was horrified. “You want me to pretend to be your father? Your father’s dead!” Gamamusa whispered, as if to hush him. “…Yes, he dead , and so is the real Lee Yeol-gi. Just pretend to be my father and say that you've been working at the salt farm all this time. That’ll explain the reason he went missing all this years. And… you kinda resemble my father a bit, too. Anyway, disguise yourself as a weathered 70-year-old man and get over there, you punk.”

  …

  'Beep beep beep.' The call ended, and Lee Yeol-gi, with a dumbfounded expression, put his phone away. “God, he’s so reckless… crazy bastard.” Lee Yeol-gi got out of the car and looked down at the Taepyeong salt farm. People trafficked and forced to work were toiling away in the salt fields. After a moment of thought, Lee Yeol-gi picked up his phone again and made a call. “Hello? Is this the NIS? I’m calling to report that I’m being held as a slave at a salt farm. Can you come quickly?”