Neurolink System in the Modern World

This was the kind of neighborhood where people lived paycheck to paycheck, where making ds meet was a constant battle. It was a place filled with resilit individuals who faced life's challges head-on, ev in tough circumstances.

My branded car certainly stood out in this place. It was clear from the curious glances of the people a that they wer't accustomed to seeing such an expsive vehicle in their neighborhood. Most of the cars on the street were cheap, small electric tricycles, making my car a noticeable anomaly in this vironmt.

But I hadn't come here to flaunt my wealth; I had a very important matter to attd to.

Stepping out of the car, I made my way towards the apartmt building. I asked for directions, and after a few inquiries, I was pointed towards a room on the fifth floor.

Climbing the stairs was effortless for me, but for some unknown reason, my heart felt unusually burded. Despite this, I pressed on until I arrived at the room I had be searching for.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

I stood in front of the door, my knuckles lightly tapping on the weathered wood.

After a minute or so of waiting, the door creaked op, revealing a middle-aged woman with a weary and red face. Her eyes bore the unmistakable signs of grief, and her tired expression spoke volumes about the pain she had be during.

"Hello, ma'am," I began, my tone filled with sympathy. "I'm a frid of Rak's, and I just heard about what happed to him . I wanted to express my deepest condolces for your loss." I bowed my head, hoping to convey my sincerity and condolces.

I kept my head respectfully bowed, my eyes fixed on the floor. I waited in silce, giving her the time and space she needed to respond. It was clear that my presce was an intrusion into a deeply personal momt of grief and loss.

"Come in" she said kindly, and as I raised my gaze to her, I was surprised to see a faint smile on her face. It appeared that she was guinely grateful to see someone who cared about her son.

Stepping into the room, I immediately noticed its small size; it was so cramped that it wouldn't comfortably fit more than four people. The limited space made it challging to navigate, and I quickly realized there were no chairs available. With no other option, I settled down on the floor, adjusting to the constraints of the room.

"How did you know my son ?" she inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity as she sought to understand the connection betwe me and her late son.

"In school. He helped me so much," I replied.

"That troublesome kid helped you?" She forced a chuckle, but I could see the pain in her eyes.

"He was a very good frid," I added.

There was a momtary pause, and her face seemed filled with longing.

"Thank you for telling me this. I'm glad that he made one good frid" she responded.

"Mom, is brother back?"

A small, quivering voice caught my atttion, and I turned a to see a -year-old girl with tear-filled eyes.

"You're not brother. Where is my brother? I want my brother !!!!" She began sobbing uncontrollably, her little shoulders shaking with grief.

"Hey, Ruri, don't be rude to our guest. He's your brother's frid," Rak's mom rushed over to the little girl, embracing her tightly.

Both mother and daughter were now in tears, their sorrow and sse of loss filling the room with an overwhelming and heartbreaking emotion.

I remained silt, giving them the space they needed to regain their composure. It wasn't my place to say anything in this momt of grief and vulnerability.

After a while, their sobs gradually quieted down, and Rak's mom gtly wiped away Ruri's tears with a tissue. It was a touching momt, and I still felt that it wasn't the right time for me to speak.

Finally, Rak's mom found the strgth to talk

.

"Thank you for coming here and for being Rak's frid. He... he really needed frids like you. I'm sorry for breaking down like this, but it's just so hard without him." her voice trembling but filled with strgth.

I nodded, fully understanding the depth of their loss.

"I'm really sorry for what happed to your brother. "

Ruri, her eyes still filled with tears, looked at me with  curiosity and sadness.

"Did you and my brother have fun together?"

"Yes, we had a lot of fun. Your brother was a wonderful guy."

Rak's mom mustered a faint smile despite her tears. "Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to us."

As we continued to exchange memories and stories about Rak, a sse of warmth filled the room, as if we were collectively paying tribute to his memory.

I might have be lying a lot and bding the truth, but in that momt, it didn't matter to me. All I wanted was for them to remember Rak as a good person, and if my words could help preserve his positive image, th it was worth it.

"Take this," I said, handing them a bag containing 5 million Won. ( 3695 USD)

"What is this?" she asked, puzzled.

"It's Rak's belongings," I replied, wanting to offer them some financial support during this difficult time.

I noticed her attempting to op the bag, but I gtly stopped her hands.

"Please, op it after I leave ,"

[Suggestion : Success ]