The Ghost Fortress-13 <The Hostile Lifeline>
The conference room of Aether Bio was silent enough to hear paper scrape across the table.
Beyond the windows, the concrete jungle of Teheran-ro stretched beneath a gray winter sky. Inside, what remained of the company’s future sat in a stack of documents between Seohan and his investors.
Aether Bio had eighteen months of runway left. To everyone else in the room, that meant crisis. To Seohan, it meant opportunity.
Seohan sat with his shirt sleeves neatly rolled up, his fingertips lightly pushing the documents toward the center of the table. Across from him, Managing Director Kim and Director Park of Korea Investment Partners looked anything but pleased.
Bio Winter was at its coldest. Capital had dried up long ago.
Seohan stared at Kim with an expressionless face.
"As you mentioned during our last meeting, is it completely impossible for the existing shareholders to provide matching funds due to the fund's maturity date?"
Kim adjusted his reading glasses and nodded.
"Correct. The fund liquidation date is just around the corner. The LPs are already watching us closely, and our internal review board concluded that additional funding is out of the question."
"Then we have no choice but to pivot toward attracting new investors. Is that feasible?"
Kim flipped through the pages of the document, looking troubled.
"It's not impossible. But given the current market climate, a down-valuation is unavoidable. You need to be realistic, Mr. Lee."
Seohan gave a small gesture and leaned back in his chair.
"What kind of ballpark are we looking at?"
Seohan’s gaze shifted briefly to the overcast sky outside the window before returning to the two men. Kim toyed awkwardly with the tip of his pen.
"To be perfectly honest, if we slash our valuation drastically, there are plenty of places willing to jump in. But for the investors who participated in the previous rounds, the losses would be too severe for them to agree easily."
"Give me concrete numbers."
Kim stopped playing with his pen and looked straight at Seohan.
"A clean ten percent cut from the last round’s valuation. Ninety billion won. That’s the floor."
"A 90 billion won valuation, then."
It was a brutal fall from the 130 billion won pre-money valuation Seohan had been targeting.
Park cut in, tapping a finger against the audit reports bleeding red ink. He pushed up his glasses and fixed Seohan with a glare.
"The valuation is one thing, but the expenditure details uncovered in the recent audit are highly problematic. This is exactly why other institutional investors shake their heads even after looking at our IR materials."
Seohan responded calmly.
"Which expenditures are you referring to?"
Park pointed the tip of his pen squarely at specific lines on the expense statement.
"Expenses that make absolutely no sense in the middle of a Bio Winter. A complete remodeling of the CEO's office, luxury leased vehicle maintenance costs... The company barely has eighteen months of runway left. That is a ticking time bomb. Why on earth did you authorize these expenses?"
Even the faintest trace of emotion vanished from Seohan’s face.
"I moved forward with them under the judgment that a large-scale investment would be secured shortly. It was also intended to restore employee morale and confidence among external partners."
Park let out a scoff of disbelief.
"You blindly believed the investment was a sure thing? For someone who knows the dynamics of this industry better than anyone, wasn't that incredibly naive?"
Instead of answering, Seohan snapped his laptop shut.
"Discussions with Artemis are progressing positively."
Park’s eyes narrowed.
"Did you receive a firm commitment from them?"
“I have cards to play. It simply isn’t time to reveal them yet.”
Kim and Park exchanged glances. Little did they know of the name quietly expanding its presence behind the scenes of Aether Bio.
Aeterno.
Nor did they realize that this single name would completely alter the atmosphere of next week’s shareholders' meeting.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Kim cleared his throat, trying to smooth over the tension.
"Are you conducting some under-the-table negotiations behind our backs?"
Seohan didn't answer. Instead, he gestured with his chin toward the document sitting in front of Park.
“I’ll take responsibility for those expenses. As CEO, and as the largest shareholder. So let’s end the noise here and open the new round at a 90 billion won valuation.”
Park snapped back, his voice thick with lingering dissatisfaction.
"Our financial health metrics have already deteriorated. In this state, new investors won't easily open their wallets. The risk is too high."
Seohan raised his head and looked Park dead in the eye. His gaze was cold and unyielding.
"We can simply exclude anyone who hesitates. There is no need for us to beg for money."
The air in the conference room froze instantly. Park parted his lips to speak but ultimately swallowed his words. Only his fingers resting on the audit files stiffened slightly.
Finally, Kim let out a sigh and closed his planner.
"Understood. We will move forward with the down-adjusted 90 billion won proposal. We'll reach out to potential new investors again."
With Kim's words wrapping up the meeting, Seohan rose from his seat in a seamless, efficient motion.
"I will keep you updated as soon as we have results."
Without looking back, Seohan walked out of the conference room.
Thud. The door closed, and Seohan’s stride down the hallway was unwavering. He headed toward the emergency staircase instead of the elevator. His leather shoes clicked in a steady rhythm, the sound echoing down the empty stairwell.
Under normal circumstances, the drop in Aether Bio’s market value would be a catastrophic blow. But for the current Seohan, it carried an entirely different meaning.
The more the market slashed the price of the outer shell, the clearer the justification became for Aeterno to intervene. There was only one catch.
This board had to be kept looking like a crisis until the very end.
Opening the door to the CEO's office, the heavy scent of the newly replaced premium Italian leather sofa brushed past the tip of his nose.
Seohan picked up the secure telephone resting on his desk. The name Artemis flashed on the display. Before the third ring could finish, the person on the other end snatched it up.
“CEO Lee, it seems you've finally made up your mind.”
The voice of Jinho Park, a senior partner at Artemis, was laced with the smugness of a victor. Keeping his eyes anchored outside the window, Seohan replied dryly.
“Next Friday at two in the afternoon. We will host a shareholders' meeting in the main conference room of our headquarters. Let's finalize the Series B bridge investment.”
“A wise choice. While it's unfortunate that the enterprise value slid down to 90 billion, the shareholders are well aware that the company's cash runway is nearing its end without a lifeline from Artemis. I assume you've already reviewed the terms we prepared?”
Seohan’s finger tapped lightly against the desk. Tap. Embedded within the contract were clauses dictating a 'five-year mandatory tenure for CEO Lee Seohan' and 'unlimited personal liability in the event of technology leaks.' Artemis intended to turn Aether Bio itself into his prison.
“We will discuss the clauses again at the shareholders' meeting. After all, we can't execute the agreement without shareholder consent, can we?”
“Of course. Persuading shareholders happens to be our specialty, so leave that to us. See you on that day, then.”
The call cut off with a chuckle from Senior Partner Jinho Park. Seohan put down the secure terminal and powered on his monitor.
On one side of the monitor, the summary of the investment terms previously sent by Artemis was displayed.
Conversion terms.
Refixing clauses.
Right of first refusal on follow-on investments.
A mandatory five-year tenure for the CEO.
Prior consent rights over core technology transfers and license-outs.
And at the very bottom, disguised as harmless boilerplate, sat one additional clause.
[Any external transfer, spin-off, assignment, or collateralization of major pipelines and related intellectual property shall require the Investor’s prior written consent.]
Seohan stared at the sentence for a long moment.
What Artemis wanted wasn't a simple bridge fund deployment. They were waiting for the exact moment Aether Bio's cash flow ran dry to seize the company's leash at the absolute rock-bottom price.
Their calculations weren't bad.
Bio Winter.
Fund maturity.
Fatigue among existing shareholders.
Aggressive spending by the CEO.
An 18-month cash runway.
From the outside, every metric pointed to the same conclusion. Lee Seohan had been backed into a corner. And a founder cornered has no choice but to accept the language of those holding the money.
Seohan quietly moved his mouse and highlighted the clause. Artemis believed they were binding the future of the company.
But what they were trying to grasp was merely the outer shell of a structure whose core Seohan had already shifted out of reach.
True control over the core IP had already slipped beyond Aether Bio’s reach. The repatriation path of offshore capital, the royalty structure of Lysis, and the true capital shield surrounding Ghost and AX-11—none of it appeared on Aether Bio’s balance sheet.
The name did not appear anywhere in this document yet. But by next Friday, everyone would see it.
Aeterno.
Seohan leaned back in his chair for a moment and closed his eyes. The priority wasn't defeating Artemis. It was making them document their own greed with their own hands.
The more toxic clauses they brought to the table, the more naturally Aeterno could step onto the stage.
Hostile investor.
Threat to management rights.
Attempted theft of core technology.
Necessity of attracting friendly stakes.
They were words Sihyun Kang would absolutely love.
Artemis believed they had thrown a lifeline. But nobody knew whose hands the other end of that rope was tied to just yet.
Once next week passed, the most crucial name on Aether Bio’s shareholder registry would be changed.
Seohan looked down at the silent skyline of Teheran-ro through the glass window and dialed Sihyun Kang.
"I need a draft of an Investment Commitment Letter under Aeterno’s name."
"What are the specific terms?"
"Set it at a pre-money valuation of 90 billion won, with a total investment amount of 45 billion won. The payment deadline should be set to one year from the date of agreement execution."
What he needed now was not actual cash. It was the justification for the name Aeterno to be inscribed on the shareholder registry.
A brief silence drifted over the line. Soon, a low voice followed the dry rustle of turning pages.
"45 billion won."
Sihyun Kang’s analysis was instantaneous and precise.
"I will draft it under the pretext of attracting friendly stakes to defend management rights against hostile forces."
Seohan hung up the phone.
A few minutes later, an encrypted file arrived from Sihyun Kang.
[Aeterno Investment Commitment Letter Draft]
Seohan verified the figures on the first page.
Investment Amount: 45 billion KRW.
Payment Deadline: One year from the date of agreement execution.
And beneath that, the most critical sentence was written:
[This investment is intended to secure friendly equity against hostile threats to management control.]
Seohan quietly closed the file.
Next Friday, Artemis would learn whose neck their noose had truly tightened around.
