Oreum answered in a start, forgetting to steady himself. Then a low voice took over the lecture hall.

"About what you said earlier. You said the time it takes to respond to a stimulus getting delayed was the problem, right? Then is falling in love the same principle? If someone looks at a person and realizes, 'Ah, I love this person,' far later than other people, does that mean there is some fatal defect in the brain?"

The lecture hall stirred. Soft laughter spread all at once. Oreum slowly looked at that student. Unnecessary force went into the tips of the hand holding the pen. A meaningless black line was drawn across the white blank space of the handout. Oreum immediately sensed that this student was simply trying to mess with him.

"...I don't understand the intent of your question. Please refrain from questions that are not directly related to the class."

He had tried to make his voice as stern as possible, but perhaps he had not succeeded, because the student lifted his shoulders.

"I think it is related."

"...."

Laughter could be heard around him. Some even echoed him in self-talk. Oreum bit his lower lip once and broke the silence.

"While the mechanisms of emotion can be explained through the brain, I think an approach that reduces all human phenomena to a simple delayed response is rash. We'll stop here for today."

At last the lecture ended. The students poured out in a rush. The lecture hall quickly emptied, leaving only his handout on the lectern and a few scrap sheets of paper. Oreum swallowed a sigh and put on his coat listlessly. Just as he was packing his things into his bag in order and checking again to see if he had forgotten anything, a shadow fell in front of him.

"...!?"

In front. That student had somehow come to stand right before Oreum and was waiting. If his body tilted forward even by a careless movement, their noses would touch.

Seen up close, he was much taller. Even Oreum, who was not short, had to look up for quite a while. His build was also large and solid enough to make the corridor between the chairs look packed. A physical education major? An athlete? Why would a physical education major take a liberal arts class in the College of Life Sciences? Oreum looked at the student who had blocked him with a slight sense of doubt.

He was a perfect handsome man, but he seemed oddly loose and casual, as if he was not a very good sort of kid. His movements were also very carefree, as if his shoulders and arms had been set with a brake. Oreum reprimanded himself for flinching without realizing it and opened his mouth.

"...Do you still have questions?"

Instead of answering, he bent at the waist and picked up a sheet of paper. It was the consent form for participation in the demonstration. He had clearly put it carefully into his bag. Did he drop it while organizing things? Oreum was flustered, and the student made his business clear.

"This, for the next class."

"Oh... yes. If you're interested, then..."

"I am."

The student, who had immediately agreed to Oreum, took the ballpoint pen from Oreum's hand. He fixed the paper against his own forearm and wrote his name in the signature blank. The strokes were long and fast. There was no hesitation in his movements.

He suddenly lifted his head and met Oreum's eyes.

"What are you measuring with this?"

"...Various things."

"Hm."

It was a quite mechanical answer. Surprisingly, he did not question it. He simply repeated the five syllables Oreum had said, as though chewing over them, and slowly handed back the consent form and pen. Just as Oreum was reaching out to take them, the man did not let go of the edge of the paper and gave it the slightest pull.

It was short, playful, and sly. Somehow it was an unpleasant thing to do. The student called Oreum professor, then suddenly gave a little laugh. Whether Oreum felt uneasy or not, he seemed to have no interest in Oreum's opinion.

"This means the teacher will do it directly during class, right?"

"Yes."

"That sounds fun."

Oreum and the student were still in a standoff, both holding the same sheet of paper. What exactly was he trying to do? Oreum grew increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. He had heard that sometimes students would pick fights with young lecturers. Since I was on the young side even for a lecturer, was he picking an unnecessary fight? Whatever the reason, the one who loses wins. With that thought, Oreum greeted him first.

"...Thank you for volunteering. Procedurally, if you don't want to, you can withdraw at any time."

"I won't withdraw."

He cut Oreum off at once.

"Why would I do that?"

"...."

"But why isn't the office number written here?"

"...I am not a professor."

Oreum had now started thinking of something else. Are kids these days... all that rude? While he was hiding away because of his illness, had the atmosphere on campus changed that much? While having such ridiculous stray thoughts, the answer came out politely.

"As a part-time lecturer, I don't have a separate office. If you need anything, you can contact me through the eTL bulletin board or by email."

"Then where are you when you don't have class?"

"Why...."

"What does this mean?"

A long finger poked at the top of the consent form. sundreamed＠astravestis.ac.kr. It was Oreum's email address. The way he cut off his words made it seem as if he were talking not to a student but to a lab colleague. Oreum thought for a moment. It was to lie.

"...It means nothing."

"Ah. Yes."

Before Oreum could do anything, the student snatched the paper away. Then he lifted his hand to eye level and let it drop. The white sheet fluttered down. As if to show him.

"...."

Soon he stretched both arms back as if doing a stretch and turned away leisurely. In that slack movement, something like a very slight sensuality seeped out.

See you again next time, teacher.

The friction of his sneakers echoed off the wall and faded. Left behind, Oreum stared helplessly at the pamphlet on the floor. The scent left behind by him brushed past Oreum. Something from human skin, with too few clues to call it perfume, like a residual trace left when the air split thinly as someone brushed by. He was an impossible kid to figure out. Who the hell was he? Oreum checked the name written on the consent form.

Eom Itae.

Feeling an inexplicable chill run down his spine, Oreum fled out of the lecture hall.

1) Electroencephalogram

Oreum moved very slowly, as if he were someone with aching legs. The place he headed for was the shared lounge at the far end of the third floor of the College of Life Sciences building. Shared in name only, it had floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, so it was too cold in winter and too hot in summer, and no one used it.

Oreum raised his watch and checked the time. It was midday. There was plenty of light coming through the windows even without turning on the lights. Old sofas, a table, a water purifier, a weathered bulletin board. Oreum set down his bag. Sitting at the round table, he took out his laptop and lined notebook.

Records he dared to write down in secret.

Empty. Lonely, with nowhere to go.

The hand writing the diary stopped.

Before long, a ding rang in his ear, and the name Joo Yoonhyeok filled Oreum's head. Below that, a newly registered history.

Geumseong University College of Life Sciences, associate professor in the Department of Neuroscience. Major fields, Systems Neuroscience, Neuroeconomics.

A wedding video uploaded to someone's SNS. The dependable back view in a tuxedo. Stale congratulatory speech. Praise. Acclaim. Cheers. Joo Yoonhyeok, a perfect pair with his madam. And at the end of the page of the paper that had brought him all the way to his associate professor appointment, a line in tiny print. ACK applicant : Seokdal Oreum.

Sadly, that one line was all that remained for Oreum.

Oreum's name was not in the main author list of the paper Yoonhyeok had published, nor in the subject of the research. Reduced among the acknowledgments, he had been quietly humiliated into a diminished state. Polite exclusion. What breakup notice could be more precise than that?

When his peers were just entering college, Oreum was already in a lab after skipping grades. People talked about him with words like genius, looking at him like some strange animal. Oreum did not like that reaction. He thought it was simply because he had been somewhat unlucky, so he had worked harder than others, and in the process had found a path that suited him early.

Some would have called him humble, but Oreum's silent nature was poison, not medicine. Honest and without tricks, the Oreum of that time had, to put it bluntly, rushed into danger without any armor. Starting from his master's program, professors would often mention Oreum in a joking tone. If there were just two kids like Oreum, the lab would run without any trouble.

It sounded like praise at first glance, but the intention was to consume Oreum very conveniently.

Tedious administrative documents such as IRB ethics review forms were naturally written by Oreum, and everyday reports such as weekly seminars and conference presentation materials were also always organized by Oreum. Whenever something was urgently needed, Oreum was always the first person called. From repairing experimental equipment to conference registration, all manner of trivial tasks became his responsibility.

It was closer to an instinctive inertia of thinking, It's Oreum, so it's fine, rather than malice. Because taking advantage of the kind, easy-to-handle side of someone was a crime that happened everywhere in the world.

After going as a postdoc, the situation became even harsher.

The responsibility for the research always went to him, while the credit always went to the adviser. When he realized the unfair structure and tried to get out, he was already too deep in it.

Then Oreum met one person. Joo Yoonhyeok.