Surgery [D-3 / Home]

Jian stared at the papers on the table for a long time.

Taekyung could no longer hide it.

Developmental acceleration.

Organoids.

Transplantation.

The fact that approval had been denied.

He told her everything.

Jian listened without interrupting.

(Jian) : “What’s the chance it works?”

Taekyung could not answer.

She asked again.

(Jian) : “What percentage?”

(Taekyung) : “I don’t know.”

Tears filled Jian’s eyes.

(Jian) : “You don’t know?”

(Taekyung) : “It’s never been done in a human.”

Jian lowered her head.

She cried for a long time.

Taekyung waited.

Finally, she asked,

(Jian) : “If we don’t do it?”

Taekyung was silent even longer.

(Taekyung) : “There’s almost no time left.”

Jian closed her eyes.

Neither of them slept that night.

Hajun slept quietly between them.

[D-1 / Hospital]

The official name of the operation was something else.

A necessary neurosurgical procedure intended to reduce recurrent seizures and pressure.

That record itself was not false.

But one step was going to happen that would never appear in the chart.

The neural organoid tissue Taekyung had created.

The tissue to be transplanted had been personalized from Hajun’s own cells.

After discovering the principles of developmental acceleration in HN-365,

Taekyung had applied the same method to tissue tailored specifically to Hajun.

A final batch designed to reduce immune rejection

and to continue developing at the same pace as Hajun’s growing brain.

Taekyung held the small transport container in both hands.

Inside it were the last two years.

Dozens of failed cultures.

Sleepless nights.

Hidden data.

Lies.

Principles broken one by one.

Dohyun approached in surgical scrubs.

(Dohyun) : “We can still stop.”

Taekyung looked at the container.

(Taekyung) : “I know.”

(Dohyun) : “I’m asking one last time.”

Taekyung looked through the operating-room window at Hajun.

His small face.

Eyes closed under anesthesia.

(Taekyung) : “Please do it.”

[A Few Hours Later / Outside the Operating Room]

Jian sat on the edge of her chair.

Taekyung could neither sit nor stand still.

He leaned against the wall, then paced again.

The door opened.

Dohyun came out.

He lowered his mask.

(Jian) : “Hajun?”

Dohyun did not answer immediately.

Taekyung’s heart dropped.

Then Dohyun said,

(Dohyun) : “He’s alive.”

Jian’s legs gave out.

Taekyung caught her.

(Taekyung) : “The tissue?”

(Dohyun) : “It’s in.”

That was all.

No one could call it a success yet.

They did not know whether the tissue would still be alive tomorrow.

They did not know what might happen a month from now.

But that night,

Hajun’s heart kept beating.

[The Next Day / Intensive Care Unit]

Taekyung watched Hajun through the glass.

He took out his research notebook, then put it away again.

He wrote nothing.

He did not want to draw any conclusion yet.

He simply sat there

and watched his son breathe.

Once.

Again.

And again.