Ghosts of Eternity

The moment the heavy oak doors of the Shilla Hotel’s Yeongbingwan opened, sterile, dry air mingled with the lingering notes of expensive niche perfume, sharp enough to sting the nose.

This was the regular gathering of the Cheongrok Society, a bi-monthly convergence of political and business titans who held South Korea’s economic arteries in their hands.

The golden light radiating from a massive chandelier suspended from the ceiling reflected off thousands of crystal glasses, scattering across the walls.

Beneath that brilliance, quiet and weighty conversations flowed.

Jeong Hyun-jin, the Vice Chairman of S Group, adjusted the stiffly starched collar of his shirt once more before stepping proudly into the banquet hall.

There was a distinct elasticity to his stride—one rarely witnessed in a man in his late fifties. It carried the spring-loaded tension of a beast in its prime.

Following close behind him was Chairman Jeong Ui-hyun of H Automotive Group.

Only a month ago, worn down by chronic fatigue, his heels had faintly scraped against the floor.

Now, his dress shoes struck the marble floor with crisp, resonant force, drawing the room’s attention through sound alone.

"Chairman Jeong, your complexion improves by the day. What exactly is your secret?"

"It seems Vice Chairman Jeong has turned back the clock entirely. His skin radiates a bizarre, almost unnatural sheen."

Elderly executives converged around them, offering flattering remarks laced with envy.

Beneath the superficial praise lay a mix of jealousy, reverence, and the primal terror of aging that defined their class.

Jeong Hyun-jin tilted his glass, a subtle smile touching his lips.

To a man who had spent his life measuring the world through the cold logic of capital, the substance Lee Seo-han supplied was irreplaceable life force itself.

Beneath their skin, the artificial heat triggered by Ghost 2.0 pulsed.

The moment they settled at a secluded lounge table away from prying eyes, the artificial warmth evaporated from both men's features.

"So, all we need to do now is wire the funds to that account? I have no idea what kind of board this Lee Seo-han is designing by setting up a shadow entity like Eterno," Chairman Jeong Ui-hyun asked in a low voice, taking a sip of champagne.

Thick veins bulged across the back of his hand, reminiscent of his youth.

His body was flooded with vitality, but the reality that he could not control the source of that vitality scraped mercilessly against his pride.

"On the surface, he claims he requires more capital for next-generation peptide research. He forwarded a technical advisory contract under the name of Eterno," Jeong Hyun-jin replied, slowly rotating his glass.

"Whether he intends to globalize the Ghost operation or use us as the foundation to construct a different empire entirely is anyone’s guess."

His sharp eyes coldly scanned the old executives standing in the center of the hall, some leaning heavily on walking sticks, others sipping champagne while supported by secretaries.

They remained pinned beneath the gravity of time, slowly corroding away.

"But transferring such a massive amount of cash this way leaves a trail. Eventually, it will become a vulnerability for our political rivals to exploit. What gives Dr. Lee the nerve to make such a blatant demand?"

A deep furrow carved into Ui-hyun’s brow.

He was a veteran who had fought through ruthless M&As and legal wars to lead H Automotive. He understood better than anyone what an opaque, tangled capital flow implied in the business ecosystem.

"We do not know how many other circles he is distributing this compound to. But Chairman, look at the people gathered out there. Do you see a single individual whose aura has transformed the way ours has?"

Ui-hyun slowly turned his head, evaluating the room.

He saw patriarchs wearing thick powder to conceal age spots, and tycoons conversing with cloudy vision, fighting to lift sagging eyelids.

Amidst them, Jeong Hyun-jin and Jeong Ui-hyun radiated an alien vitality—like two figures printed in vivid color inside an old, monochrome photograph.

"No one," Ui-hyun muttered. "Nothing but rotting trees."

"That is the problem. It means we are the only ones caught in Lee Seo-han’s net," Hyun-jin’s voice carried a chilling dread.

"We are the only ones who have grown younger, and we are the ones dangling from his fingertips, surrendering 100 million won every month."

He leaned in closer.

"If this connection ever blows up, we will be the ones left holding the bag. The bastard can simply retreat behind his shield as a researcher."

Their bodies were enjoying a golden age, but their minds felt balanced on the edge of a cliff that could collapse at any moment.

It was a suffocating solidarity shared only by those who understood the terror of the crash—the violent snapback of aging that arrived the moment the compound cleared their system.

"If we are the only ones bound to him, it is too dangerous. We need to expand the board," Ui-hyun’s gaze locked onto a man sitting isolated at the highest table, nursing a glass of hard liquor alone.

"We need to drag more players into this swamp with us to survive. Spread the responsibility and dilute the risk."

The man was Chairman Namgoong Hwi of the Cheonmyeong Media Group.

He was the absolute sovereign of a media empire spanning newspapers, broadcasting, and internet portals. Yet, he had recently vanished from public view due to a rapid degradation of his health.

Though he was well past seventy, his hand trembled minutely each time he lifted his glass.

Behind his lenses, his unfocused pupils drifted through empty air like ghosts.

"Chairman Namgoong... I heard rumors of dementia circling him. He looks far worse than the rumors suggested."

"He is a man who fears the erasure of his influence more than death itself," Hyun-jin said, rising from his seat to smooth his suit.

"His succession blueprint isn't even locked down, yet his mind is slipping. He must be burning inside. The man is likely prepared to sell his soul."

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A predatory glint flashed inside Hyun-jin's eyes.

"I will bring Lee Seo-han over. This time, we must act not as mere suppliers, but as the saviors who deliver that old man. To expand the board, there is no better piece than him."

Thirty minutes later, inside a private study behind the Yeongbingwan.

A heavy silence dominated the room, which was lined with thick Persian rugs.

Namgoong Hwi was buried deep within a leather sofa, swallowing dryly as his breath arrived in short, labored gasps.

Before him stood Lee Seo-han, dressed in a classic suit tailored to a flawless, neutral fit. In Seo-han's hand rested a cold, metallic chrome case.

He did not offer a polite greeting, nor did he attempt to curry favor by delivering a lengthy explanation of the compound’s mechanism.

He simply observed the old man’s failing body and clouded synapses with a dry, clinical gaze.

Namgoong Hwi’s cloudy eyes scanned Hyun-jin and Ui-hyun alternately.

He was a man who had spent his life pinning the vulnerabilities of others onto newsprint. He was a veteran at deciphering who was lying, who was concealing greed, and who was performing fear.

Yet, the vitality pulsing beneath the skin of the two men before him was no performance.

That reality struck his pride with a lethal force. He was the only one aging. He was the only one being erased.

"Chairman Namgoong, I heard your memories are drifting away from you," Seo-han said calmly. "There is no tragedy deeper than possessing an entire empire, only to forget its name."

Seo-han slowly opened the case. Resting inside like a still-life object was Ghost 2.0, a small nasal spray the size of a fountain pen.

"This is no cure. It is merely a signal—one that allows your brain to recognize its own empire again, for a brief, fleeting window. Think of it as applying a sudden voltage to a fading circuit."

Namgoong Hwi gripped the armrest of the sofa with a trembling hand.

He read the cold arrogance in Seo-han’s eyes—his expressionless gaze evaluating him like a specimen under glass.

Yet, he was entirely seized by a more powerful hunger for survival.

The tight skin of Jeong Hyun-jin and the solid, vibrant voice of Jeong Ui-hyun felt like a sacred revelation.

"What... what do I need to do?"

"The choice is yours, Chairman," Seo-han replied, placing the spray onto the table with a dull clack.

"Will you invite me into your empire, or will you let your memories disappear until your empire no longer recognizes you? The moment you inhale this spray, your brain will temporarily reclaim its former processing speed."

Namgoong Hwi’s gaze locked onto the apparatus like a starved beast.

He did not hesitate. He lifted the device with a shaking hand and brought it to his nose.

Hiss—

The fine mist seeped through his nasal mucosa.

In under thirty seconds, a brilliant spark ignited inside his clouded pupils.

His hunched posture did not magically straighten, yet the heavy fog weighing down his body evaporated. Namgoong Hwi forced power into his spine in a manner he had long forgotten.

His focusless, drifting gaze sharpened to a razor edge. The tremor in his fingertips ceased completely.

"This... what is this... A heat inside my body... No, power is surging."

Namgoong Hwi rose abruptly from his seat.

The degenerative arthritis that had tortured him for decades was not cured. Rather, the mechanism by which his brain interpreted pain had shifted. There was no longer any hesitation in his movements.

The leather sofa groaned under the sudden shift.

The cracked, metallic raspy tone characteristic of his advanced age had not vanished entirely.

Yet, as strength returned to his breath, a trace of the deep, resonant voice that had once commanded a media empire came back with eerie authority.

He snatched an English financial newspaper resting on the table.

Ordinarily, he would have struggled for a long time even with reading glasses perched on his nose.

Now, the tiny letters resolved with startling clarity, as if they were being printed directly into his brain cells.

The fog inside his mind cleared, and his data processing speed accelerated exponentially.

It was no mere recovery of vision; it was a biological explosion—the gears of a stalled intellect spinning at maximum velocity.

"You said your name was Lee Seo-han?" Namgoong Hwi turned his gaze to strike Seo-han directly.

The aura of an emperor who had dictated South Korean public opinion for decades erupted from his frame.

Untroubled by that fierce weight, Seo-han merely offered a light nod, as if confirming an expected result.

That absolute composure sent a chill of exhilaration through Namgoong Hwi, and he let out a wild laugh.

The sound echoing through the study was a chaotic blend of madness that had cast aside the terror of death, ecstasy over reclaimed life, and the arrogant confidence that he could rule the world once more.

"What is it you desire? Capital? Influence? I can transform your name into that of a living saint across this land. With a single stroke of my pen, I can turn you into a god!"

"It is 100 million won a month," Seo-han replied, cutting cleanly through the old man's grand illusions of power. "The account details and dosing instructions will be sent to you via text."

Without a shred of lingering interest, he turned away from the ecstatic elder.

Seo-han understood better than anyone that no matter how massive capital grew, it was merely an insignificant number when balanced against the extension of life.

Standing by the door, Jeong Hyun-jin and Jeong Ui-hyun watched Seo-han with eyes that held a bizarre mix of relief and terror.

Watching another titan walk willingly into the wondrous trap of addiction they had experienced, they felt a strange sense of alignment—and a primal fear of the entity named Lee Seo-han.

A third major piece had been perfectly integrated into his orbit.

"Vice Chairman Jeong, I will confirm next month’s Eterno transfer for three people. Please bundle Chairman Namgoong’s share with yours," Seo-han said as he reached the door.

"If it is delayed by even a single day, I cannot guarantee the next batch. You understand how unforgiving the half-life of this compound is."

Without waiting for a response, he exited the study into the cool corridor.

Behind him, they could already hear Namgoong Hwi roaring into his phone, commanding his chief of staff to summon an emergency strategic meeting early tomorrow morning.

The voice exploding past the doorway no longer belonged to the frail old man who had entered that room.

The fierce weight of an era when he wielded the blade of media censorship bled through the cracks of the door, flooding the corridor.

Jeong Hyun-jin rubbed the goosebumps tracing the back of his neck, his eyes locked onto Seo-han’s receding form.

"Chairman Jeong, the man literally only discussed money before walking out, correct?"

Hyun-jin asked, gesturing toward the end of the corridor with his chin. Ui-hyun nodded, his brow drawing tight.

"One hundred million won a month, and the Eterno account. That was the entirety of it."

A chilling stillness descended between the two men. The marble corridor remained thick with the cold afterimage Seo-han had left behind.

Previously, each time Seo-han demanded payment, he had attached absurdly demanding conditions to the introductions he requested.

They had catered to his whims by delivering the most elite human capital in South Korea into his orbit.

Yet, in this definitive play where they handed him a piece as massive as Namgoong Hwi, Seo-han had completely omitted any mention of women.

His demeanor was utterly colorless—as if such social connections or entertainment no longer held any computational value in his system.

"This feels strange. Don't tell me he believes our infrastructure has already run dry?" Hyun-jin muttered, rolling up the sleeves of his Italian silk shirt.

His skin, accustomed to the artificial heat left by Ghost 2.0, was still faintly warm, and his nerves were on edge over Seo-han’s unexpected reaction.

"The network possessed by an old man like Chairman Namgoong is immense. Is he saying he won’t accept introductions from anyone below our tier? Or has he secured a new information source we are blind to?"

Chairman Jeong Ui-hyun let out a dry, hollow laugh, adjusting his lapels.

As a cold manager leading H Group, he attempted to calculate the function hidden behind Seo-han’s behavior.

"Or perhaps one of the cards we planted has already successfully anchored him. If he’s been reeled in by one of them, that would actually be a relief for us."

"There is zero probability of that," Hyun-jin countered, his brow narrowing.

"You saw him yourself, Chairman. The man treats Kang Si-hyun like a patent defense algorithm, and he looks at a woman like Chae Do-hee as if she were a laboratory mouse providing data. He is a species that leaves zero entry points for human emotion."

Hyun-jin bit his dry lip, his eyes tracing the vacant corridor.

"But the fact that he discussed money so cleanly today before walking out... it leaves a chill down my spine."

Even while handing the reins of youth to a monster like Namgoong Hwi, Lee Seo-han had not let them hold even the end of the reins.

Without throwing out a single piece of bait, he demanded nothing but abstract numbers for the corporate entity named Eterno. That posture pushed the titans deeper into a labyrinth of uncertainty.

A genius who failed to display his desires was ten thousand times more difficult to control than one driven by them.

"If he simply dislikes the list we prepared, that is something we can manage," Ui-hyun muttered, his voice dropping low.

"But if he has become confident enough to believe he can seize us by the throat at any moment... that is beyond what we can handle."

Before Ui-hyun could finish his thought, Namgoong Hwi’s thunderous roar echoed from the study, vibrating through the corridor as he berated his secretary.

The return of a roaring old lion.

Confronted by that explosive surge of raw life force, Jeong Hyun-jin stared blankly at his empty champagne glass.

Yet, the louder that roar grew, the tighter the invisible chains Lee Seo-han had bound around their throats became.

Drunk on the drug of youth, the lions bared their claws once more, never realizing they had become controlled variables inside the massive laboratory Lee Seo-han had designed.

They were merely intoxicated by the engineered heat flowing through their veins.