Ghosts of Eternity

Dawn light pierced through the slits of the blinds in Aether Bio’s executive office, coldly tracing Seo-han’s pale cheeks.

Beneath his rolled-up linen shirt, the veins along his forearms bulged slightly, trembling with a minute vibration. It was not fatigue, but a form of systemic overload that manifested when his nervous system had been pushed into a state of extreme hyper-awareness.

On the monitor, the peptide structures flashing with green light boasted their usual clarity and geometric perfection, but Seo-han’s head was filled with a noise far more malicious than the complex calculations of capital worth trillions of won.

As if to shut out this unpleasant static breaking the silence of his calculated data, he irritably pushed his mouse aside and snatched the smartphone from his desk. Before the phone could even ring twice, Vice Chairman Jung Hyun-jin’s greasy voice burst through the speaker.

"Shred the list. Any further meetings are pointless."

Seo-han’s voice was entirely stripped of emotion, as cold as a verdict issued by a machine. Caught off guard by the sudden declaration of termination, Jung Hyun-jin spluttered in response.

"Wait, Dr. Lee. What on earth do you mean by that all of a sudden? Chairman Namgung Hwi has just joined us, and the game has finally reached a proper scale. You won't find candidates of that caliber in South Korea again. Their family backgrounds, their academic pedigree, their appearances—"

"I am not questioning the candidates' credentials," Seo-han cut him off. "I suspected it wouldn't work out this way regardless, but it seems I expected too much from women who were essentially conscripted into these meetings. It is a mere waste of time."

Before Jung Hyun-jin could tack on any pathetic excuses, Seo-han pressed the end-call button.

Reflected on the dark glass of the screen, his eyes sank deeper and colder than usual.

He roughly ran a hand over the back of his neck, exposed through his tie-less shirt collar, and downed a bottle of ice-cold water in a single breath.

Deep within a hidden underground bunker in Hannam-dong.

Jung Hyun-jin stared blankly at Jung Ui-hyun, holding the abruptly disconnected phone in his hand. Amidst the heavy silence dominating the room, only Jung Hyun-jin’s anxiety was drawing ragged breaths.

"Look at this bastard, Brother. Now he says he won’t bother meeting women anymore. Claims his time is too valuable—the man is completely insolent."

"Actually, it’s for the best. Tending to his finicky whims every week was a strain on the secretariat's manpower anyway. It saves us money and cuts down the risk of unnecessary information leaks."

Jung Ui-hyun sneered as he checked the metrics on his cutting-edge smartwatch. Thanks to the miraculous vitality of Ghost 2.0, his complexion was as taut as it had been in his thirties, radiating the cruel composure of a seasoned predator.

Yet, Jung Hyun-jin’s eyes remained unfocused, flickering with unease. He compulsively fidgeted with the edge of his royal blue suit sleeve, holding Jung Ui-hyun’s gaze.

"But Brother, come to think of it, this isn't exactly good news for us either. That monster needs to bite someone’s bait—whether he starts a family or mixes shares through marriage—for him to be securely in our palm. A man with a family has hostages, making it hard for him to run. But a guy running wild on his own like that can break the board and vanish whenever he feels like it."

Jung Ui-hyun's relaxed fingers abruptly stopped moving. A chilly, murderous intent flashed between his deeply furrowed brows.

"So in the end, we need a durable leash to tie him down."

"Exactly. We served him the finest alpha girls South Korea has to offer on a silver platter, and not one of them managed to get a follow-up from him. This isn't a matter of taste. It’s decisive proof that Lee Seo-han didn't enter these meetings driven by basic human desires. You can't domesticate a beast that has no desires, Brother. If anything, it feels like we just placed our own candidates on his microscope slide as specimens."

The arrogance of a genius who refused to be ruled sowed a bitter seed of dread deep within the hearts of the two tycoons.

A few hours later, still within the Hannam-dong bunker.

The dense air clung to the hem of Jung Hyun-jin’s royal blue suit. He roughly swirled the single malt whiskey in his glass, letting the ice clink sharply against the crystal wall with a nervous, metallic ring.

Han Ji-yeon leaned deep into the sofa, her legs crossed beneath her deep purple satin dress, silently observing him.

"It's been a while. I've been buried in work lately and couldn't reach out," Jung Hyun-jin said, setting his glass down with dry lips.

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"I saw you all over the news. You certainly didn't look ill—you seemed overflowing with energy," Ji-yeon said, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the taut muscles of Jung’s face. "What exactly did you get from Dr. Lee Seo-han and inject back then? Your gaze has been completely different since that day, Vice Chairman."

"Ah... they said it’s a new drug under development. A sort of vitality booster for people like me. I can't give you the details. He strictly warned me that the information cannot be made public right now."

Jung Hyun-jin casually masked the thick veins pulsing on the back of his hand, holding his tongue. The moment he divulged the secrets of the 'subscription economy' designed by Seo-han, the fear that tomorrow morning's clarity would vanish bound his speech.

Right then, a violent vibration erupted from the table. The name 'Attorney Kang Si-hyun' flashed on the screen. Before Jung Hyun-jin could even hit accept, a razor-sharp voice tore through the speaker.

"Vice Chairman! We have 3 billion KRW generated as advisory fees every single month, and how on earth am I supposed to account for this? This massive sum regularly lands in a corporate entity with no clear operating substance. Do you think the National Tax Service is stupid? Tell me what you know right now. What the hell does Lee Seo-han have over you to cause this madness!"

Kang Si-hyun’s voice had lost its usual composure, honed to a lethal edge. Jung Hyun-jin pressed his hand to his brow, catching Ji-yeon’s eye.

"Come over to the bunker and let's talk. This isn't something to discuss over the phone."

The moment the call cut out, a heavy silence settled over the room once more. Ji-yeon refilled Jung’s empty glass and spoke softly.

"Attorney Kang is certainly wound tight. But Vice Chairman, have you heard the rumors circulating outside lately? General Pak Sang-do from the Ministry of National Defense... they say he built a live-firing range in his basement and shoots targets all night. His aides are whispering that he’s possessed, hitting bullseyes without even using his reading glasses. And Kang Min-ju, that finance mogul, allegedly recited every single metric on the financial statements from memory during yesterday's board meeting while axing executives. Those stubborn old fossils are suddenly flying around as if they’re possessed. People at the lower levels are already starting to sense something is off."

"Is there any word on Dr. Lee Seo-han? What about that bastard?" Jung Hyun-jin asked, downing the whiskey whose ice had fully melted into a lukewarm pool.

Ji-yeon leaned her head against the backrest of the sofa, her eyes tracing the ornate gold leaf on the ceiling.

"That gentleman? Well... he looked at me as if he were observing a microbe under a slide. I thought it went reasonably well, though. When that rigid, unyielding man broke into an awkward smile at one of my jokes, I thought, Ah, in the end, he’s just a man. But there has been absolute radio silence since. Not a single text, not a single phone call."

Jung Hyun-jin furrowed his brows and leaned forward abruptly. "Nothing? Not even once?"

"No. I suppose he forgot all about someone like me while busy going through all those high-society candidates you lined up for him. Either that, or I’ve already been flagged as a discarded target on that brilliant doctor's radar."

A distinct thorn pricked Ji-yeon's tone. To a woman who had spent her entire life feeding on the desperate, longing gazes of men, Seo-han’s silence was a novel insult.

Jung Hyun-jin sank back into his seat, irritably unbuttoning his royal blue suit jacket.

"That can't be it. I heard he hasn't reached out to Baek Seo-woo or Kang Si-hyun either. This isn't a matter of preference. It means that fellow’s brain circuitry is wired entirely differently from ordinary men. It’s a grand conspiracy to map the genetic profile of South Korea’s upper class or collect remote controls for our weaknesses."

Ji-yeon offered a bitter smile as she watched him spiral.

"Everyone is writing these grandiose conspiracy theories, but the Dr. Lee I saw was somewhat different. The way he was fumbling and couldn't even meet my eyes before me... that wasn't an act. That kind of awkwardness can't be rehearsed."

Jung Hyun-jin turned his head, his glass suspended mid-air.

At that moment, the heavy mahogany door swung open. With the sharp, metallic click of stiletto heels striking the marble floor—slicing through the dense atmosphere of the room—Kang Si-hyun walked in, bringing a draft of cold air with her.

Ji-yeon snatched her clutch with an effortless smile. "The mood here is getting treacherous, so I’ll take my leave. Vice Chairman, cool your head and call me later."

As the rhythm of her high heels faded past the door, Kang Si-hyun let out a cold sigh and threw her leather bag onto the sofa opposite Jung Hyun-jin.

She remained standing, refusing to even take a seat as she chewed on the words Ji-yeon had left behind.

"Lee Seo-han hasn't reached out to anyone? What kind of blind dates are these? And what was that woman talking about—that he went out there simply wanting to find a girlfriend?"

Jung Hyun-jin shook his head, roughly tearing at his tie. A dry chuckle escaped his lips—a bitter, hollow laugh laced with absolute mania.

"Ji-yeon was fooled by his shell too. That bastard Lee Seo-han has all of us laid out on a microscope slide right now, dissecting us. It's a calculated piece of theater where he hides behind that emotionally stunted act to lower our guard. If he actually intended to date someone, he would have called at least one of them! We thought he was trying to exploit the game we set up, but instead, he’s looking down on us and playing us for fools."

Kang Si-hyun minutely pushed her metal-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger.

She perched tensely on the edge of the sofa and sharply tapped her tablet screen. The number '3 billion KRW,' flashing like a crimson warning light on the display, reflected coldly against her lenses.

"Three billion won. What is the true nature of this money? An immense sum from an unverified source is landing in Eterno’s account every month, so what exactly is the justification? Do you think the National Tax Service is blind? To handle this safely, we need a deliverable that the world can accept. You’re telling me he rakes in billions every month without a single line of a report or a prototype?"

Jung Hyun-jin shed his royal blue suit jacket, tossing it aside as he swirled the lukewarm whiskey in his mouth.

"What else would it be? It’s a legitimate technical advisory fee. Sure, if we have to process it immediately, it's a headache. But it seems Lee Seo-han has something in mind."

Jung Hyun-jin looked up at the ceiling, as if reaching for a memory.

"He mentioned a side project... something to do with a depilatory agent, I think. Knowing him, won't he toss us a plausible bone to chew on soon enough?"

Kang Si-hyun’s fingers froze over the tablet screen.

"A depilatory agent?"

Beside the flashing figure of 3 billion won, a single word had appeared—one that could serve as their very first legitimate legal justification. And in that precise moment, Kang Si-hyun realized.

Lee Seo-han was not insane.

As always, he had simply provided the explanation far too late.