How to Live as an Immortal Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Peace, Peace

“Maximum Noise is a pretty famous major corporation too.”

And yet they failed to repair her?

[We retrieved her as quickly as possible, but it seems it was impossible.]

A deep sadness emanated from Dobby, who couldn't continue speaking. To him, Sera had been like an older sister. How was I supposed to comfort him?

“I'm sorry.”

[Like I told you before, it wasn't your fault. I heard your ergency treatnt was perfect. It's just that…….]

Just as Dobby was about to say sothing, the doorbell rang.

Even when I tried to ignore it, it kept ringing periodically and persistently.

It didn't seem like a prank. Still, I wasn't expecting any visitors at this hour. Then again, it might be Jin Geon or Baek Seol. Neither of them was the type to ask for permission before showing up.

“Hold on. Soone's here. I'll contact you again later.”

After ending the call, Ga-on headed outside and opened the door.

At that mont, a turquoise hue reminiscent of sumr brushed past the tip of my nose. As a bonus, an old-fashioned maid outfit that looked strangely familiar caught my eye.

As if bewitched by sothing, Ga-on stared at her and muttered softly,

“I heard you died……”

The beautiful android Sera, who had appeared so boldly at my doorstep, nodded and declared,

“Yes, Sera is dead. I am Sera Mk.2. Utilizing organoids, I am her successor, having realized a performance infinitely close to that of a human. I look forward to serving you anew.”

As she spoke, she gently lifted the hem of her skirt.

She looked even more vibrant than before.

At this point, there was virtually no difference between her and a human.

“Peace, peace.”

Expressionless, Sera recreated a double V-sign with both hands.

Was she trying to boast that she had returned from death? The sight was so absurdly cheeky that the tension instantly drained away.

Looking at it now, the master and servant had tead up to fool .

“Haa, don't scare like that.”

“Young Master Dobby strongly urged to use a thod that could never be employed a second ti, and before I knew it, I had gone along with it.”

Ahem.

After clearing her throat, Sera clapped her hands with shaless ease.

“Has our emotional reunion been ruined? Then I shall return and we can start over from the beginning.”

As Sera turned around as if to leave, Ga-on grabbed the back of her neck and let out a sigh.

“It's already too late.”

“Touching a lady's body so casually deserves criticism, but I shall forgive you this once.”

Since she had done sothing wrong.

After Sera obediently backed down, her eyes t Ga-on's. He extended his hand.

“Anyway, welco back.”

Sera stared quietly at his outstretched palm before smiling gently and taking it.

“I'm back.”

***

There was a dish called Ortolan.

It was a type of roasted sparrow, and its thod of preparation was unimaginably cruel.

First, a bunting was captured, its eyes gouged out, and it was placed inside a cage. Unable to distinguish between day and night, it was driven into a state where it could do nothing but reflexively eat the fruit that entered its cage.

That alone was sufficiently inhumane, but it was rely the preparatory stage.

Once its weight had increased enough, the process was concluded by drowning it in brandy. It was a simple thod that allowed alcohol to completely fill its lungs and stomach without any additional procedures.

A thod of processing from which there was no salvation.

Yet the resulting dish, Ortolan, was said to possess a heavenly flavor.

The bursting juices of at and fruit were supposedly exquisite.

Even so, perhaps because it sacrificed a fellow living creature solely to satisfy human greed,

it beca customary to cover one's head with a white cloth while eating it, for fear that God might witness the act and beco enraged.

Which was, in itself, proof of hypocrisy.

Even while recognizing that they had committed an unforgivable original sin, they could not stop their impulse. One could say it was a defense chanism ant to conceal their own wickedness.

In a certain sense, the essence of true evil.

Those gathered in the banquet hall were no different as they sat around the long dining table.

With pure white cloths draped over their heads, they focused solely on the plates before them.

They simply savored the delicacies.

Not even the sound of breathing could be heard, much less the clatter of utensils.

A silence so profound it felt as though corpses occupied the seats enveloped the hall.

The white cloths resembled bridal veils, yet their essence was the complete opposite.

They were nothing more than disguises ant to conceal evil deeds.

As expected, after the lengthy al, all that remained on the plates were bare bones devoid of a single scrap of at.

Though the satisfying al had ended, not one person revealed their identity. They continued their conversation with the white cloths still covering their heads.

Even though they were companions bound by a shared purpose and common fate, it was as if rely seeing one another's faces would have been deeply unpleasant.

Yet despite their attitude, the topics they discussed were anything but shallow.

From current affairs to cutting-edge technology and even legal interpretations—

What they discussed was the very essence of information unobtainable even on the Net.

It was then that the man occupying the seat of honor casually opened a topic.

“Co to think of it, as of today, it has already been a year since this gathering was ford.”

His voice was low and ordinary, as though he were speaking only to the person beside him, yet not a single person overlooked his words.

As though they had never been engrossed in conversation monts earlier, everyone turned their attention toward the man.

“A commorative day calls for a special dessert.”

As if such consideration were only natural, the man accepted it without hesitation and clapped his hands.

A servant whose face was concealed beneath a white cloth entered, pushing a trolley.

The dishes arranged upon it were covered, but the rich scent of at could not be hidden.

The sound of people swallowing their saliva echoed from all directions.

It was a reaction so vulgar that it was hard to believe these were the sa individuals who had been proudly displaying their intellects only monts ago.

“I'm sure none of you are fully satisfied yet. Please enjoy yourselves to your heart's content. Unlike the others, this one is ‘real.’”

Suddenly, exclamations burst forth one after another like echoes.

The people buried their faces into the plates before them, greedily indulging themselves without any concern for dignity.

A complete contrast to their earlier behavior.

And that was only natural, because this was—

“Real! Real!”

As one person shouted fervently, the others followed suit.

“Real! Real!”

True indulgence began now.

***

“Is this for real……?”

Ga-on repeatedly lifted and lowered the packaged product as if he could hardly believe it.

Although online shopping had beco the norm in the 24th century, that didn't an large supermarkets had disappeared.

Having accompanied Sera outside for a change of pace, he instead found himself overco with disbelief.

“Cultured at costs this much?”

[Pork Front Leg Type B, 500 grams — 8,200 Pia]

Even this price included a 15 percent discount.

Trying to calculate the original retail price was almost frightening.

At that mont, Sera, pushing a shopping cart from behind, reproached him.

“You are being particularly dramatic today, Ga-on. The price of cultured at has been rising for quite so ti now.”

“But it wasn't like this in my day.”

Cultured at had first begun to be sold in earnest in the early 2020s.

Of course, the outbreak of the Third World War caused its developnt to lose montum, but once the dos were constructed, it rose to prominence again.

Since dos inherently imposed severe spatial limitations, the concept of livestock farming naturally faded away.

The ergence of cultured at as a substitute for conventional at was inevitable.

And once it began to be mass-produced in factories, lower production costs naturally followed.

As a result, cultured at had cost around 900 Pia back then.

One could say it faithfully embodied the original philosophy behind its creation.

But what about now?

Despite the absence of any significant negative factors, the gacorps continued raising the price of cultured at through sheer inertia.

The situation was no different in the seafood section.

[Eel Whole Type C, 500 grams — 25,700 Pia]

Cultured at had originally been developed as a substitute for real at, but now there was no substitute for cultured at itself, causing prices to soar through the roof.

And purchasing real at was out of the question.

On Mars, primary industries were conducted only to a very limited extent.

Since no one knew what effects Earth's animals and plants might have on the Martian ecosystem, strict boundaries had been established.

As a result, every product sold was effectively a luxury item.

Needless to say, the number of digits in their prices was on an entirely different level.

When you thought about it, in this era, the label "real" was a premium reserved only for items worth that much.

A ‘real’ body.

A ‘real’ al.

A ‘real’ object.

Although self-driving vehicles were commonplace, so people still deliberately hired chauffeurs. Likewise, despite the existence of androids who could perform flawlessly, others still kept human secretaries by their side.

It was all part of the sa phenonon.

Inefficient though it was, it also served as a ans of displaying social status.

After all, purposeless luxury was itself a tool for flaunting one's wealth.

Perhaps it was best described as a symbol of power and authority.

Ironically, the fact that imitations were steadily approaching the domain of such "real" things made the situation all the more absurd.

“You have the look of soone thinking about sothing pointless.”

“Pointless? I was contemplating the contradictions of modern society.”

“Ah, yes. I see. Then perhaps you could also resolve the contradiction of why my workload hasn't decreased despite having a companion with ?”

“......”

Even if I had ten mouths, I wouldn't have had an excuse.

For a while, Ga-on beca little more than a robot moving according to Sera's gestures.

A human being controlled by an android.

That, too, was a contradiction, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Co to think of it, didn't you say you had sowhere to be today? Is it really alright for you to be wandering around so leisurely?”

“It doesn't really matter if I'm late.”

After loading the purchases into the vehicle they had brought, Ga-on added,

“Because I'm the owner of the place.”

***

Oratic Bionics.

Its primary fields were biotechnology and pharmaceuticals.

It was a small-to-dium-sized company devoted to developing technology that reduced the side effects of genetic modification, and its market capitalization had only recently surpassed 11 billion Pia.

Its defining characteristic was that it had acquired relevant patents and continued to trend steadily upward.

Proof that its research staff was exceptionally capable.

One could call it a model company.

In fact, its professional manager, Daniel Shen, had once served as a senior researcher at the gacorp Inatomi Corporation.

“We received the sample you sent. Just as Chairman Baek Seol inford us, the condition was quite severe.”

He was likely referring to the sample collected during my hospitalization last ti.

Since I had submitted it incidentally, I didn't have any particular thoughts about it.

“I can't even imagine how much pain you're enduring. We're still analyzing it, but we will do our utmost to produce results one way or another.”

His tone was brimming with passion despite his age, yet—

'That's not going to happen.'

Ga-on silently swallowed those words and shook his head where no one could see.

He had damaged his genetic information using Nuclase.

For Daniel to make progress in his research would an eliminating the side effects of Nuclase itself—a goal that was realistically impossible.

Completely restoring genes destroyed by a drug belonged to the realm of creating life itself.

If soone actually succeeded, it wouldn't be surprising if they received the Isabella Prize.

Still, there was no reason to pour cold water on soone displaying such enthusiasm.

“Alright. I'm counting on you.”

Offering a little encouragent was the best Ga-on could do.

It was then that the door suddenly swung open without warning.

The person who entered was a man wearing a white lab coat.

The most striking thing about him was the dark circles beneath his eyes, as though he had been worked to the bone.

His drooping eyes made him look exhausted in every possible way.

“Croft, I told you not to co barging in when I'm speaking with a guest.”

“I'm sorryyy, Fatherrr.”

Croft? Croft Shen?

Since it was a na he had heard from Mr. Chicken—that is, the Mafia Whitney—Ga-on instinctively beca alert.

A person connected to Ryungyeong's side who had once entrenched himself beneath Eden Park and contributed to the creation of Eden.

But—

'I heard he was dead.'