The brief line of text, its ink faded by the passage of time, nonetheless caused the atmosphere in the room to sink heavily. Neither of them was clear on what this sentence truly meant. Were all of Ethan Caldwell’s previous predictions completely wrong?

What exactly did Ethan’s mother know?

In the memories of Ethan Caldwell, his mother had always been a gentle yet incredibly resolute woman. Coming from a prestigious family with a strong academic tradition, she had never backed down in the face of any adversity.

What exactly happened back then, and what did the word "lost" refer to? Could it be CORE? When had they discovered the secret, and compared to the information he and his grandfather knew, what else had transpired?

Julian Sterling noticed the man’s mood progressively deteriorating. He did not fully understand what the words in that notebook implied, but perhaps Ethan had grasped something. He did not ask immediately. Instead, Julian used his own hand to gently pat the back of the man’s hand, as if to soothe Ethan.

The warm temperature transmitting from Julian Sterling’s palm acted like a rope, violently pulling Ethan Caldwell’s reasoning back to reality. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently before he reluctantly suppressed the hysteria surging within his veins.

"In this notebook... my mother wrote something very long." Ethan Caldwell spoke in a deep voice, his fingers lightly stroking the peeling leather cover: "But right now, my mind is in too much turmoil. I am afraid I might miss crucial details within her words. Let us look at this first."

Having said that, he set the notebook aside and picked up the old-model USB drive with its matte black plastic casing.

Julian Sterling nodded in agreement. Emotion was the very thing that most easily blinded human judgment. They should not let their feelings become too entangled right now. It was better to examine the other item and see what they could find.

Ethan Caldwell brought out his laptop, booted it up, and plugged the USB drive in. The laptop screen flickered for a few seconds before displaying a device recognition notification. The automatic virus and malware scanning process ran amidst the suffocating silence of the study. Both men held their breath, their focus entirely fixed on the progress bar on the screen.

Fortunately, the USB drive did not possess a self-destructing password lock. Perhaps the person who left it behind understood clearly that any technical barrier could become the very thing that destroyed all the data if modern systems evaluated it as malicious code.

The single folder that appeared on the screen was named: Project Genesis.

Ethan Caldwell double-clicked to open it. Inside lay a massive array of PDF files, biometric analysis data charts, and short video clips that had been heavily compressed to a low file size.

"Let us open the first file and see."

The first file was a scientific research report hundreds of pages thick, bearing the overlapping seal of an independent biological research institute across its edges.

Ethan Caldwell scrolled his mouse through the project summary section. As lines of highly specialized text continuously emerged, his complexion grew increasingly pallid, and his pitch-black eyes became laced with terrifying, bloodshot veins.

"Analysis and decoding of human brainwave structures at deep frequencies."

"Recording, encoding, and storing memory files in patients with cognitive decline (Alzheimer’s)."

"Stimulation of neural reflexes and re-establishment of consciousness for patients in deep comas (Vegetative state)."

Julian Sterling silently mouthed along with every piece of critical information that appeared in the summary; his voice was extremely soft, yet loud enough for both of them to hear. The hand Ethan used to grip the mouse trembled ever so slightly.

"Brainwaves... Memories... Re-establishment of consciousness..."

A torrent of profoundly advanced academic terminology rushed over them, causing the man’s breathing to grow heavy. However, Ethan Caldwell himself knew that he should not allow his emotions to dictate his actions too much at this moment.

Thus, he took a breath and, alongside Julian Sterling, carefully reviewed every single category mentioned.

Suddenly, Julian reached out, firmly pressing his hand over the back of Ethan’s hand that held the mouse, forcibly compelling Ethan to stop scrolling the screen.

"Look at this." Julian carefully pointed at the final evaluation content table: "It records here that their research into brainwave structures was intended to capture memories in Alzheimer’s patients. Alzheimer’s is inherently a very cruel disease. It erodes away a person’s recollections, causing them to forget even their most cherished loved ones. The encoding and storing of these memories was meant to help those patients avoid losing their sense of self."

"And there is this as well. Stimulating neural reflexes for patients in deep comas. It is exceptionally clear that these research efforts were all targeting practical medical purposes. They were all aimed at helping humanity. They absolutely were not heading in the direction of research designed to extract the brainwaves of a healthy individual and stuff them into a different shell."

"In other words..." Julian Sterling slowly concluded: "This original research project... it was an entirely pure and magnificent medical endeavor. It was born with the purpose of treating illnesses and saving lives, bringing hope to those families despairing by the sickbeds of their loved ones."

Yet in the end, what exactly did the research results have to do with what CORE desired, ultimately driving Ethan’s mother’s mentor to betray CORE, and leading to the tragic deaths of the entire research team back then?

Far too many questions were being raised, things that the two of them could not comprehend at all. However, if this documentation was here, they would surely be able to find complete information regarding the research team from that year.

Previously, when investigating Ethan’s father, that list could still be found; but later on, by the time Ethan Caldwell took over, everything had already been wiped completely clean. Even he himself had no way to find the complete information. He did not even know the identity of the person leading this research.

Therefore, the two men hurriedly began to search. Julian Sterling took hold of the mouse, manipulating the scroll bar down to the very last page of the analytical report, where the roster of the expert council participating in Project Genesis was clearly recorded.

A myriad of names flashed by, among which Ethan Caldwell’s mother’s name was situated in the position of Senior Biometric Data Analyst.

But Julian’s gaze immediately hitched upon the bolded text sitting imposingly at the highest position, at the very top of the list.

The instant that name struck his eyes, a sudden, piercing pain slashed across Julian Sterling’s head. The abrupt agony caused him to freeze for a beat, his eyes squeezing tightly shut.

The fragmented memories, hazy as fog within the mind of the Julian Sterling of this world, suddenly began to spin wildly. They reconstructed a stark white laboratory, the overpowering stench of antiseptic, and... a manic look behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

Julian clenched his hands into fists, his joints cracking audibly.

On the silent screen, the English text typed in neat Times New Roman font appeared distinctly:

Project Lead & Executive Director: Professor Edmund Hale.