The problem with freedom

  —God’s greatest gift—

  is that it belongs not only to me.

  1997, Boston Logan International Airport,

  Massachusetts, USA.

  Stepping onto American soil for the first time, what unfolded before Zahir’s eyes was more fear than excitement.

  With a single decision, his entire family had turned their backs on their beloved homeland.

  To start everything anew in this unfamiliar place weighed heavily on his shoulders.

  In particular, the face of his mother, Bashira, who had tearfully opposed the move, saying, “I cannot live a single day in a land that has abandoned God,” surfaced in his mind, filling him with a deep sense of guilt.

  'I must succeed, no matter what.'

  He repeated it to himself countless times, but he couldn't be sure if coming here, betting everything on the words of a young female Asian scientist, had been the right decision.

  As they exited the gate, Song Joo-eun greeted them with a bright smile.

  Along with a few people she had brought from somewhere, she began to load the Zahir family’s luggage into several cars.

  “This truck is for the important research materials, and you can take the van over there. We’ll follow behind in that car.”

  Song Joo-eun explained the situation in fluent English.

  Where she pointed, a sleek black Ford was parked.

  As Zahir’s family boarded the van, Song Joo-eun gave some instructions to her companions and then sat in the driver’s seat of the Ford herself.

  In the passenger seat next to her sat another Asian woman he had never seen before.

  “I heard that you both do not speak English well. My name is Sato Haru. I am here today to help with interpretation.”

  She had short, bobbed hair, and her eyes, visible beyond her neat glasses, were sharp and intelligent.

  She was a linguistic genius, fluent in an astonishing twelve languages, specially recruited by Song Joo-eun.

  Thanks to her fluent Arabic interpretation, Raina and Bashira finally let down their guard and began to talk with Song Joo-eun.

  “You will all love the place we are going to. It’s a two-story house with a garden, in an area famous for its excellent educational environment.”

  The children, in contrast, were already buzzing with anticipation for a new world.

  “Ma’am, how do you know how to speak our language?”

  “Your pronunciation is amazing!”

  “Will it be hard for us to learn English?”

  “What if the new kids don’t like us?”

  The children, fascinated by Sato who understood them so fluently, fired off a relentless barrage of questions.

  Watching them, Zahir realized that the children, though they hadn't said it, also harbored fears about this foreign land.

  Raina calmly tried to settle the slightly excited children, while his mother, Bashira, grumbled with a displeased expression, looking out the window.

  “Everything is wrong. For me to come to the land of infidels… Allah, forgive me.”

  Mixed in with the noise in the car, Bashira’s low lament struck Zahir’s ear.

  Unlike the modest apartment they had in Iraq, even the fact that the children would have their own rooms seemed to offer her no comfort.

  “Thank you for taking care of so many things.”

  Though his expression was stern, Zahir expressed his sincere gratitude to Song Joo-eun.

  “Not at all. I was the one who insisted you come. This is the least I could do.”

  Song Joo-eun said with a cheerful laugh.

  “Now, before we get to the house, shall we go get something delicious to eat? As a way of welcoming you to America.”

  "I don't know anything about American food! What's good?" Zaydan asked, his eyes sparkling.

  "Hmm, that's a tough one. Kids usually like hamburgers, cola, and pizza, right?"

  "The food is Halal (food prepared according to Islamic law), right?"

  At Bashira's sharp question, Sato's expression became awkward for a moment.

  "Of course, Mother. I've studied that much while looking after Muslim guests."

  At Song Joo-eun's confident reply, Sato smiled with relief and translated it.

  "Hmph, at least the girl knows the basics."

  At Bashira's condescending remark, Raina bowed her head with her eyes closed, as if apologizing to Song Joo-eun.

  "Thank you. It's very important for us to follow our rules. By the way, is there a mosque near where we're going?"

  Raina asked what she had been most worried about.

  She wasn't a strict follower, but she thought it would be the family's only center of support in this strange land.

  "Of course. This is a place where scholars, soldiers, and financiers from various countries live, so there's an atmosphere of respecting each other's cultures."

  At Song Joo-eun's answer, Raina finally felt at ease.

  'She prepared much more thoroughly than I thought.'

  Zahir admired her competence once again.

  The place Song Joo-eun led them to was an American-style restaurant with Halal certification.

  However, in front of the hamburger with its thick patty and greasy French fries, Bashira’s expression openly hardened.

  “You call this food…”

  At her grumbling, Raina looked to her husband, at a loss for what to do.

  But Zahir just silently cut his food without a word, and the children were excited about the food they were tasting for the first time in their lives.

  Song Joo-eun deliberately ignored the atmosphere, and Sato frowned slightly, as if annoyed by the grandmother.

  The house they arrived at after the awkward meal was beyond everyone’s expectations.

  A two-story house with a neatly kept small garden, a spacious basement, and a garage large enough for two cars.

  It was a dream house, incomparable to the old apartment in Iraq.

  “Dad! Mom! Grandma! Hurry, hurry!”

  Zaydan was the first to shout and run towards the house.

  Filled with excitement, Ahmadi also ran after his brother, Zaydan.

  “Hmph, it’s flashy on the outside, but we’ll have to go in to see if the inside is the same.”

  Although Bashira grumbled, a hint of anticipation was evident in her steps as she followed the children.

  “I’ll help Mother inside. …Thank you so much, Ms. Song Joo-eun, Ms. Sato Haru.”

  Raina finished her polite greeting and headed towards the house, supporting her mother-in-law.

  “Thank you, truly. I did not expect a house of this quality.”

  Zahir, left alone, conveyed his heartfelt thanks.

  “I’m glad you seem satisfied. My friend went to a lot of trouble to find this house.”

  Song Joo-eun shrugged her shoulders proudly.

  Sato shook her head, looking at her as if she was incorrigible.

  “She made such a fuss, saying that since Dr. Zahir was coming on her word alone, she had to provide certainty. She even suggested diverting our project budget for this.”

  “Hey, who told you to say all that!”

  Song Joo-eun lightly hit Sato’s shoulder.

  “Anyway, we should probably get going. We have an early flight to California tomorrow morning.”

  At Sato’s words, Zahir looked at her as if this was the first he was hearing of it.

  “What do you mean? I thought you would at least introduce me to the university president and show me around the lab.”

  A sharp disappointment was laced in his voice.

  “What? Ah, is this a cultural difference? We have to go do our work now. We’ve shown you the house, the car keys are in the garage, and all the information you need for daily life is organized inside. In a week, you’ll just have to greet the president, and you can start your professorship right away.”

  Sato’s bright and cheerful explanation only fueled Zahir’s anger.

  “Haru, stop. I’ll talk to him.”

  Song Joo-eun stepped in, judging that she couldn’t let it go on any longer.

  “Doctor, this is our lab’s contact information. If you have any questions or need anything, please contact us anytime through this.”

  “…If my research ends in failure, what happens then?”

  Zahir had risked everything to come here.

  But they seemed to be leaving him stranded on the roadside.

  That anxiety made his voice tremble.

  “There’s no problem. I told you on the phone. America is a country that invests in failure. You will be able to continue your research until you yourself say you want to stop.”

  Song Joo-eun said with a smile.

  That smile held a sincerity without a trace of falsehood.

  Zahir decided to trust this young woman last time.

  On the day he was scheduled to start at MIT, Zahir drove the unfamiliar car.

  The streets of Boston were completely different from Iraq.

  The landscape of vast roads laid out amidst expansive nature, and the complex cityscape where countless cars ceaselessly created noise.

  All of it came to him not as excitement, but as fear.

  When he arrived at the grand MIT campus, he felt an inexplicable vitality in the deserted grounds, empty for the vacation.

  That energy, however, made the small spark in his own heart feel insignificant.

  President Ethan Hudson praised his research achievements, saying he had heard about them from Song Joo-eun.

  He was officially appointed as a tenured professor in the MIT Department of Energy Physics.

  Though it was a fact he had confirmed several times, it felt different now that it was a reality before his eyes.

  The research facilities he toured under President Hudson’s guidance were top-notch.

  It seemed that here, he could truly achieve his dream.

  But the moment he was introduced to the fellow professors he would be working with, his anticipation turned back into a sense of inadequacy.

  They were all world-renowned scholars.

  'Am I really qualified to conduct research with people like this? By what power did Dr. Song Joo-eun seat me here without even an interview?'

  He suddenly recalled the phenomenal resumes of Song Joo-eun and Sato Haru.

  Song Joo-eun, who received her doctorate at twenty and became the team leader of a national project at twenty-two.

  Sato Haru, fluent in twelve languages, the last disciple of a renowned linguist.

  The overwhelming abilities of two young women, completely incomprehensible by the cultural standards of his own.

  And that brilliant girl he had met in the market in Iraq.

  'What was her name… It was from the Rashid family, I think.'

  It wasn’t an important thought.

  Right now, it was about him and his family adapting to this new environment.

  That was all he had to face.

  After greeting his colleagues, he returned to his office, which bore his name, and began to review his research plans.

  The feeling of a new beginning was slowly starting to sink in.

  The first year in America was a time of adaptation.

  The family gradually became accustomed to their new life.

  Even his mother, Bashira, who had been displeased with everything, began to smile again after meeting people from her homeland at the nearby mosque.

  Raina attended an English academy in between taking care of the children, learning the new language at a surprising speed.

  Watching his wife, Zahir tried to push away the fleeting thought, 'could Raina have had other possibilities?'

  She was always a devoted, excellent Muslim wife.

  Her calm and warm personality was the greatest force that allowed their neighbors to accept this foreign family without prejudice.

  The children, as children do, adapted the fastest.

  Zaydan’s outstanding athletic ability earned him a starting position on the football team, and Ahmadi, as always, gained everyone’s recognition with top grades.

  The same was true for Zahir.

  His lectures were still stern and difficult, but students who recognized the depth within them began to appear.

  The intellectual conversations with his fellow professors were enjoyable, and their attitude of respecting different cultures was comfortable.

  He sometimes felt a little disappointed that his contact with Song Joo-eun had become infrequent.

  She was incredibly busy, and he had yet to produce any notable results.

  He considered the occasional feelings of anxiety to be the unavoidable fate of a foreigner standing alone in a strange land.

  As time passed like that, one day, a new light entered his world.

  His third son, Chazra, was born. According to the principle of jus soli, his youngest son became a full-fledged American citizen.

  The birth of that small life gave Zahir a heavy sense of responsibility that he could no longer postpone.

  'Now, it is truly time to begin.'

  One day in 1999,

  two years after coming to America,

  he finally knocked on President Ethan Hudson's door to begin his research in earnest.

  “Welcome, Dr. Zahir.”

  “Yes, hello, Mr. President.”

  After a brief exchange of greetings, Zahir sat in the guest chair at Hudson’s invitation.

  Hudson told him to wait a moment, then brought a cup of hot coffee and offered it to Zahir.

  “Thank you.” Zahir drank the coffee the president had made.

  Coffee had become Zahir’s favorite beverage since coming to America.

  After some customary small talk, Zahir showed his research proposal to the president.

  “Mr. President, would you please take a look at this?”

  [Proposal for Research on the Theory of Continuous Magnetization Boundary]

  Zahir’s dream for a superconductor that functions at room temperature.

  Inside that proposal was everything Zahir had seen, heard, contemplated, and researched.

  The required scale of facilities, level of equipment, experimental materials, personnel.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The experimental process, foreseeable variables, and various methods to verify his theory were written down.

  “Ah, Dr. Zahir, you’re finally ready to begin.”

  President Hudson smiled and took Dr. Zahir’s hand.

  This casual physical contact of Americans was something Zahir had not yet grown accustomed to, but he could accept it.

  “Yes? Yes. That’s right.”

  “The Continuous Magnetization Boundary theory is a truly remarkable theory. I wish you the best of luck for its success.”

  Hudson’s words gave Zahir courage.

  He had worried he might say no, and now he felt like a bad person for having doubted him.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate it if you would read it over and grant me the support I need.”

  “Of course.”

  Hudson finally let go of his hand. And he began to make calls here and there.

  'It’s happening. It’s really happening. It can be done. Finally. Really. Truly. It’s happening. It is.'

  Zahir couldn't control his trembling heart at Hudson’s immediate action. He thanked him profusely and left.

  Even after returning home, his mind was filled with related thoughts.

  He barely heard his family when they spoke to him, and he didn't know if he even tasted his food.

  From that day on, Zahir’s mind was filled only with the thought, ‘Finally.’

  About a month later, Zahir received a call at home from President Hudson.

  "Dr. Zahir? This is Hudson."

  “Ah, yes, Mr. President. What can I do for you?”

  “If you have time tomorrow, there is a place I’d like you to go with me.”

  “Where might that be?”

  “Haha, I was trying to hold my tongue, but I’m too excited to keep it in. The facilities for your research are all complete.”

  “…What? What do you mean?”

  Zahir couldn’t believe his ears.

  He hadn’t even heard about research approval or budget allocation, and now there was a research institute.

  “Actually, from the moment we saw your paper and learned you were coming to MIT, we applied for a government grant and started building the lab. We were just waiting for you to arrive.”

  'This… is America.'

  It was a shock on a different level from the immense power he had felt while living here for a year.

  He thought he should thank Song Joo-eun, himself for deciding to come here, and also Allah.

  “Wooooow!!”

  Without realizing it, Zahir shouted loudly.

  It was probably the loudest sound he had made since he was born.

  What followed the happiness was embarrassment.

  “Hahaha! I’m glad to see you so happy, Doctor. I’ll see you at the main gate of the university at 7 AM tomorrow.”

  Fortunately, President Hudson just laughed and patted Zahir’s shoulder.

  “Woooooooow!”

  After parting with the president and returning home, Zahir let out another cheer.

  At his shout, his whole family stared at him in surprise.

  Baby Chazra burst into tears at his father’s loud voice, but even his crying sounded joyful today.

  When he explained the situation to his bewildered family, everyone was overjoyed.

  Even Bashira teared up, saying, ‘It has turned out well.’

  'Now… I can truly do great things for my country.'

  That night, Zahir dreamed of himself standing tall in the painful history of his homeland, helping people.

  Everything was the will of Allah.

  The next day, he arrived 20 minutes earlier than the appointed time.

  The place he arrived at in President Hudson’s car was a lush forest in the suburbs, about 30 minutes from the university.

  There, was everything he had dreamed of.

  A research facility of an unimaginable scale, and state-of-the-art equipment he had never seen before.

  “This is incredible…”

  “Are you pleased with it?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  As Zahir answered with a confident voice, Hudson smiled with satisfaction.

  “However…”

  Zahir had a bad feeling about Hudson’s words.

  “We are still short on personnel.”

  As always, his bad feelings were never wrong.

  “How short are we?”

  “Hmm… let’s see… Currently, there are only about 30 people, including 3 professor-level staff and students.”

  Hudson said, flipping through the documents he had brought.

  “Your research proposal said you needed 200 people, correct?”

  “…That’s right.”

  Three professors.

  Twenty-seven students. It was an absurdly small number compared to what Zahir had requested.

  Noticing Zahir’s expression, Hudson laughed and patted his shoulder.

  “Now, you will have to gather the necessary talent and build a team yourself."

  Hudson said, handing him a pile of documents.

  "This is the personnel list, and this is the budget proposal. You’ll have to juggle university classes and paper presentations as well, so you’ll be very busy from now on.”

  “What… is the meaning of this?”

  Zahir had come here solely for research, and he couldn’t understand being suddenly told to gather personnel.

  “Ah, you will be the director of this MIT Energy Lab and manage it yourself. It’s your project, after all.”

  Zahir was culturally shocked by Hudson’s words, spoken as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  'A manager.'

  For him, who had only wanted to focus on research, a new responsibility weighed on his shoulders.

  He thought it might be for the better.

  He wasn't used to dealing with people, but in his home country, he wouldn't have even had the luxury of such thoughts.

  Zahir first thought of his gratitude for the given environment.

  'Truly… this was beyond my expectations, Dr. Song.'

  Song Joo-eun had kept her promise, and now it was his turn to prove himself.

  From the next day on, Zahir’s life changed completely.

  After his university lectures, he headed to the research institute every day.

  He had to familiarize himself with the new equipment, review countless documents to find talented individuals, and preside over meetings.

  His steps became lighter, and even his lecture hours felt enjoyable.

  A place where what he had only imagined was possible.

  A place where he could fail.

  What he liked most of all was that his future was secure.

  'All that’s left is for things to go well. All I have to do is work hard.'

  But as time went on, a different kind of difficulty arose, contrary to Zahir’s expectations.

  He couldn't gather people.

  Most students and professors were more interested in fields like cutting-edge computer engineering than in energy research.

  Thanks to this, the budget for Zahir’s research institute was left over, with no one to use it.

  Although the research progressed little by little with the small number of people, the pace was incredibly slow.

  At this rate, it would be difficult to receive the next budget.

  'Should I… contact Song Joo-eun? If she could… if she was able to provide support for a research institute like this, couldn't she solve the personnel issue now?'

  He hesitated.

  She was incredibly busy, and he had no achievements to show for himself yet.

  She had kept her promise, and he had to solve a problem of this magnitude on his own.

  Zahir’s real challenge in America was just beginning.

  After that, six years had passed since Zahir first set foot on American soil, and it was now 2002.

  His research lab was still empty.

  The numerous materials he had proposed had all ended in failure after countless experiments. He was anxious.

  "A country that invests in failure."

  He was now feeling the meaning of Song Joo-eun's words to his bones.

  America’s support was generous, and no one rushed him for his failures.

  That generous investment, ironically, became an invisible chain that suffocated him.

  In his homeland of Iraq, he had the excuse of not receiving support.

  But here, the fact that he was failing to produce results even in this perfectly equipped environment was eating away at his pride.

  The thought that perhaps the problem was not the support, but his own ability, spread like poison in his mind.

  'The ability to attract people… I never thought something like that would be important…'

  Since childhood, Zahir had only studied, dreaming of making his country great through science and technology.

  He lacked the charisma to draw others into his dream.

  It wasn't that Zahir's relationships with others were bad.

  It was just that his relationships weren't strong enough to persuade them of his dream.

  There was another problem.

  The relationship between his homeland, Iraq, and the United States was worsening by the day.

  He was living a comfortable life with the support of a country that could be called his homeland’s ‘enemy,’ without any significant achievements.

  What would the younger version of himself, who had wanted to be a hope for his crumbling country, say if he saw him now?

  A recent phone call with Song Joo-eun made him feel even more miserable.

  She had joyfully told him the news that her home country, South Korea, had reached the semi-finals of the World Cup.

  He had to force himself to offer congratulations and apologize again for his lack of research progress.

  Song Joo-eun encouraged him, saying it was okay, but that encouragement only added to the pressure.

  That anxiety began to eat away at his daily life.

  He couldn't even properly face his youngest son, Chazra.

  His anger towards his students became more frequent, and his lecture evaluations plummeted to the bottom once again.

  That day, too, was after he had yelled at a student who couldn't understand a simple theory.

  'Why have I become so broken? Why did I come here…'

  As he wandered the campus, submerged in deep depression, someone lightly touched his shoulder.

  “Mister.”

  “Huh? Who is it?”

  When Zahir turned around, his eyes met a young woman with a youthful yet confident impression and brown skin similar to his own.

  She was wearing old jeans and a gray hoodie with the MIT logo on it.

  Despite her plain attire, her sparkling black eyes under her jet-black hair radiated an undeniable intelligence.

  “You don’t remember me?”

  Zahir searched his memory, but no face came to mind immediately.

  “Ah, you really don’t remember.”

  As he hesitated to answer, flustered, she playfully tapped her chest in frustration.

  “It’s me, Karida from the Baghdad market. Karida Rashid.”

  The moment he heard that name, a forgotten scene from the past flashed through his mind like lightning.

  The brilliant girl who had gathered many children and explained Newton’s theory with a boldness that belied her young age.

  “Ah! That girl, from back then!”

  “You finally remember?”

  Karida chided his memory with a prim expression.

  “No, how are you here…?”

  Zahir couldn’t believe she was here.

  “It’s simple. I came to study abroad, too.”

  She replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “I see. To meet again at this university, it’s truly amazing. Yes, you were a very bright child. I had wanted to see you again after that day.”

  Zahir recalled having gone to the market several times after that to look for Karida.

  Strangely, everyone had answered that they didn't know her, as if they had all agreed to it.

  The child who had received Zahir's book had said he gave it to Karida when he saw her again that day, but that he hadn't seen her since.

  He had even done a little research on the name Rashid, but nothing came up.

  'Why did a child who was just a passing acquaintance that day leave such a strong impression on me…'

  But despite all his efforts, Zahir couldn't see Karida again.

  He would occasionally remember that brief meeting after coming to America, but the reality he faced was gradually making him forget.

  But now, that Karida was standing right before his eyes.

  “Why did you run away so quickly back then?”

  It was the question he was most curious about.

  “Ah… I was scared then. If my father found out, I would have been severely scolded for hanging out with boys in the market. Well, I did get caught and scolded later, though.”

  Listening to Karida, Zahir remembered her father, who led the massive corporation Aland.

  The precious daughter of that house had run away from her stuffy home to explore a world of her own.

  “But I read the book you gave me,『A Study on the Continuity of Energy』. I even looked up who you were. I couldn’t contact you because I was afraid of my father, though.”

  “I see. That’s a shame, but I’m so glad we met again like this.”

  The two moved to the campus cafe and talked, losing all track of time.

  The news of Iraq that he heard through Karida was different from what he saw on the news.

  “Actually, I’ve been taking your class, Mister… I mean, Professor.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m double majoring in Computer Engineering and Energy Physics.”

  'This child too, computer engineering…'

  Zahir’s expression darkened slightly without him realizing.

  “I was so happy to see you here after I came to study abroad. I was so glad.”

  Zahir wasn't sure what expression to make at Karida’s lively words.

  “Ah, I thought you would recognize me, you know? But no matter how much I made eye contact, you didn’t seem to know me. Well, I guess it’s natural since you didn't recognize me even when I spoke to you directly.”

  Though Karida teased him playfully, strangely, he didn’t feel angry.

  On the contrary, at her words that she had wanted to meet him too, Zahir blushed without realizing it.

  The conversation with Karida made his stopped heart beat again.

  It felt as if he had regained a little of his lost vitality.

  After that, Zahir’s lectures gradually began to find their life again.

  There was still no major progress in his research, but now he was not alone.

  Zahir found himself being drawn into her conversations without realizing it.

  After hearing about Zahir's research, Karida said she definitely wanted to join and started frequenting his lab.

  Zahir, who was desperate for even one person, was just happy to have Karida.

  That wasn't all.

  After Karida joined the research team, a miraculous change came to Zahir’s lab.

  She was still an undergraduate, but her genius breathed practical vitality into Zahir’s deep theory.

  She also brought her friends to the lab, and the once-empty space began to fill with the passion of young talent.

  Karida had easily solved the problem of recruiting talent that Zahir had struggled with for years.

  After that, Zahir and Karida grew even closer, and on weekends, she would come to Zahir’s house without hesitation and have dinner with his family.

  The children adored her, as she took care of them like a real older sibling.

  She was becoming another member of Zahir’s family.

  But that peace did not last long.

  In 2003, shocking news came on the TV.

  It was the news that the United States had invaded Iraq.

  The pretext was an unconfirmed claim that Iraq was developing weapons of mass destruction.

  “No way!”

  Karida shouted in anger as she watched the news.

  Having been in Iraq until relatively recently, she knew how absurd a lie that was.

  Zahir, too, was at a loss for words, just staring blankly at the screen.

  For the two who loved their country, the news that day was an unbearable pain.

  The war turned all their efforts to nothing.

  The people Karida had gathered began to leave again.

  No matter how much they tried to persuade them, the only response they got was a cold, “I cannot participate in research led by a professor from an enemy country at war.”

  Moreover, even the existing researchers began to leave one by one.

  Zahir and Karida couldn't stop them from leaving.

  'The dream of wanting to help my country has now returned as the stigma of betraying it.'

  He crumbled.

  He was afraid his family would be harmed by this, but fortunately, that did not happen.

  The children had already built their own world firmly.

  To make matters worse, her father, the head of the famous Iraqi company Aland, always told Karida to come back.

  The reason was that Karida being in an enemy country during the war would damage the public image of her father and the company.

  If Karida left too, Zahir might have broken down.

  “I enjoy doing research here. I’m not going. What would I do there anyway.”

  Fortunately, Karida stayed by Zahir’s side.

  And a short while later, the war ended with America’s one-sided victory.

  The weapons of mass destruction they had talked about were nowhere to be found.

  “Father.”

  At some point, Karida started calling Zahir ‘father’.

  Unlike Zahir, who had immigrated to America with his family, she was studying abroad alone and felt lonely.

  Zahir, too, had at some point started treating Karida, on whom he had unknowingly come to rely deeply, like a daughter.

  One day, after Karida broke up with her American boyfriend, she came to Zahir’s lab crying.

  Zahir silently offered her a cup of hot tea and waited for her to start her story.

  “…He said he couldn’t understand me just because I’m a Muslim."

  The moment he heard those words, Zahir thought of the countless moments of discrimination his own family must have endured, though they never spoke of it. He said nothing, and silently began to pray for her.

  “Great Allah, please light the way for my daughter. Please protect her from all the trials she faces. I pray that everything will be done according to Allah’s will in Allah’s embrace.”

  “Father, if everything is according to Allah’s will, then it’s natural for me to break up with him!”

  “…That is following the Sharia (the religious law of Islam), and following the will of Allah, is it not?”

  Even while walking the path of a scientist, Zahir was always a Muslim.

  After immigrating to America, he would go to the mosque for worship almost every week with his mother, wife, and Ahmadi.

  “Come on, but this is America! There’s a saying, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’!”

  Normally, he would have scolded her sternly, but at the sight of her talking nonsense with a tear-streaked face, Zahir burst out laughing without realizing it.

  “You have a point there. That’s why I don’t force Zaydan and Chazra to come to worship.”

  “Hmph-“

  Karida pouted her lower lip as if slightly sulking.

  Zahir, who had little experience conversing with women other than his wife Raina and mother Bashira, just blinked, unsure how to respond.

  “Father, should I marry Ahmadi or Zaydan?”

  At Karida’s sudden proposal, Zahir was at a loss. Moreover, Karida was the daughter of the head of a famous conglomerate in Iraq.

  Though Zahir himself had accumulated considerable wealth while serving as a professor and lab director at MIT after graduating from the Baghdad University of Technology, the Rashid family was in a different league.

  “No.”

  “Hmph-, Ahmadi and Zaydan are getting handsome these days. Then what about the youngest, Chazra…?”

  Zahir flicked Karida on the head.

  “Chazra is not even ten yet.”

  “Hahaha, but he has the handsomest face, don’t you think?”

  “Think about your age. Isn’t there a 15-year age gap?”

  “Come on, it’s America. What does it matter?”

  “No.”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll just work hard on seducing Ahmadi then. By the way, I feel like those boys are hiding something from me lately. Can’t you tell me, Father?”

  “Ahmadi is also five years younger than you. And what do you mean, hiding something?”

  “It feels like they have a game that only they know. No matter how much I ask them to tell me, they won’t.”

  “Ah… that? It’s just a kind of thinking quiz I do with the children.”

  He remembered the children saying they had to keep it a secret because Karida would ask about the treasure hunt.

  “A thinking quiz?”

  “Yes, it’s nothing much. Do you want to try?”

  “Sure. I’m curious.”

  “This is a fill-in-the-blank problem. How can the great prophet Isa (the Islamic name for Jesus) and Butrus (the Islamic name for Peter, a disciple of Jesus) become the origin of shrimp chips?”

  “Huh? The kids play with things like this?” Karida burst out laughing as if it were absurd.

  “Yes, and if they find the clue, I give them shrimp chips as a prize.”

  “Ah, so that’s why the kids were so smart?”

  As the children received praise, Zahir felt his own shoulders rise with pride.

  “Can’t you solve the problem?”

  Zahir said to the frowning Karida with a benevolent smile.

  After thinking hard, Karida, unable to find the answer, complained, “What do Isa and Butrus have to do with shrimp chips?”

  “That’s easy. Butrus’s original profession was a fisherman. When he became a disciple of Isa, the other fishermen couldn’t go with Isa.”

  “Hmm… that makes sense. So?”

  Karida started to get drawn into Zahir’s story.

  “Isa is famous for telling Butrus not to catch fish, but to catch men, right?”

  “Right. That’s a very famous story.”

  “Then why him, of all people? Wasn’t it because he was an excellent fisherman?”

  “Hmm… that could be it.”

  “In that case, when Butrus quit fishing, he would have had his disciples with him.”

  “So?”

  Karida couldn't understand how this story connected to shrimp chips, but she grew more and more curious about what Zahir would say.

  “Although we Muslims do not recognize it, in Catholicism, Butrus becomes the first Pope, and it is said he died in Rome. So at that time, when Butrus was active in Rome, he would have had his fisherman disciples with him. And Italy is surrounded by the sea, so their skills as fishermen were important. So after Butrus died, they had to fish to make a living, and they would have taught their descendants how to catch fish. And among those descendants was Amerigo Vespucci.”

  "What? Haha, suddenly Amerigo Vespucci appears after thousands of years? The story is getting sidetracked, isn't it?"

  Karida said with a laugh.

  “So after Amerigo discovered America, his fish-catching skills, passed down from Butrus, were brought to America.”

  Despite Karida’s laughter, Zahir remained serious.

  “That doesn’t sound like the origin of shrimp chips.”

  “Isn’t America a nation of immigrants? One day, a descendant of Amerigo made a bet with an Englishman from an island nation about who could catch more fish.”

  “How is the story getting more and more sidetracked?”

  “And among the fish they caught were shrimp. But the judge was a Chinese person, who are said to fry and eat everything but the chair.”

  “What? That’s the origin of shrimp chips?”

  “I’m not saying it’s actually true. It’s about training to piece together a story like this.” Zahir said with a smile.

  “Wow, it doesn’t make sense, but it does.”

  The day with Karida was enjoyable.

  He wished for such time to continue every day.

  One day, Zahir introduced Karida to Song Joo-eun, who had helped him immigrate to America.

  Song Joo-eun, an East Asian woman, and Karida, a Middle Eastern woman, became friends as soon as they met and started contacting each other often.

  Though the lack of progress in his research constantly weighed on his mind, Zahir wished for these happy days to continue.

  'Usually stern, but handsome when he smiles sometimes.'

  It was a lecture review left by a student who had taken his class, which had brightened up after he met Karida.

  It was only natural for Karida to tease Zahir when she saw this review.

  And Zahir was grateful to her for approaching him so friendly and playfully.

  Unfortunately, however, Zahir’s small happiness did not last long.

  One day in 2009, Karida was bidding Zahir farewell.

  “Father, I… received a scouting offer.”

  “From where?”

  “Dr. Song Joo-eun has offered me a position at a new artificial intelligence research institute to be established in California. With a man named Chapman.”

  What was bound to happen had happened, Zahir thought.

  “…You must go. That is the place where you can unleash your talents.”

  Karida’s talents were not limited to energy physics.

  She was also an excellent computer engineer and would often use programs she had created for Zahir’s research.

  Watching her become closer to Song Joo-eun and contact her often, he had already prepared himself for Karida’s departure as a member of her project someday.

  It was Zahir who had introduced her to Song Joo-eun, thinking that Karida needed a woman of the same gender more than a man with a large age gap like himself, and it had come back to bite him.

  Though the research institute had not made as much progress as Zahir had thought, it had developed incomparably from the beginning.

  Karida was a necessary presence for the research institute, for Zahir, and for Zahir’s family.

  However, Zahir thought that should not hold Karida back.

  Moreover, this was Karida, whom even the Rashid family could not persuade.

  Zahir, who had watched her for a long time, knew best what great things she could accomplish when she set her mind to it.

  At some point, Karida had earned doctorates in both her double majors, energy physics and computer engineering.

  It was not an easy task to earn a doctorate in even one field, but Karida had accomplished these things while conducting research with him.

  At Zahir’s words, telling her she could leave without any blame, Karida finally burst into tears.

  “Father…”

  “Thanks to you, the research has progressed quite a bit. We wouldn't have come this far without you.”

  Karida just cried in Zahir’s arms.

  “I’ll contact you often. I’ll contact Ahmadi, Zaydan, and Chazra. And your mother, Raina, and your grandmother, Bashira, too.”

  “You’ll be busy, don’t overdo it. It’s okay.”

  It was different from what he truly felt, but it was what he had to say.

  "Go, and unleash your talents to your heart’s content. But… come see our children sometimes. They are very fond of you."

  At those words, Karida finally burst into tears.

  On the way home in the car after parting with Karida, Zahir also shed tears.

  It was hard to bear the weight of her departure after having lived and worked together for seven years.

  He didn't know what to say to the children, who were particularly fond of Karida.

  America had given Zahir much, and taken much away.

  That evening, as he returned home in a gloomy mood, he was greeted by shouts that filled the house.

  “You bastard! I told you not to cause trouble at school again!”

  Zaydan was grabbing Chazra by the collar and shaking him.

  Blood was trickling from the corner of Chazra’s mouth.

  “I didn’t do it!”

  “Then what! That Frank kid is going around the whole school telling everyone you insulted his father!”

  “That’s not true!”

  Ahmadi and Raina desperately tried to separate the two.

  “Zaydan, stop! Violence doesn’t solve anything!”

  “Chazra, are you okay, my baby…”

  In the midst of all the chaos, Bashira’s sharp voice cut through the living room.

  “Tsk, tsk. I knew this would happen. Coming to the land of infidels, and now brothers are trying to kill each other! It’s all your father’s fault!”

  In that moment, Zahir felt something inside him collapse.

  The sense of loss from Karida’s departure.

  The sense of self-loathing from the slower-than-expected research progress.

  And the sense of powerlessness from having to watch his family’s conflict.

  All of it mixed together, paralyzing his reason.

  He couldn't sleep.

  America was a country that had everything he wanted.

  And, it was a country that had everything he didn't want.

  Thank you for reading, and for staying with the world of Artistea.

  Part 1 is fully completed (Chapters 0–15 + Asha’s side story).If you prefer not to wait for the scheduled uploads, the entire volume is already available on:

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  Next upload: ?? 2026-01-02