Ghosts of Eternity

The reception room of the Hannam-dong safehouse.

Seamlessly interlocked dark walnut hardwood flooring stretched beneath matte dark gray panels that encased the walls on all four sides. At the center, three black cowhide sofas exposed their raw, unrefined texture. Recessed ceiling lights illuminated the sharp edges of the furniture, casting long, orderly shadows across the floor.

An uncanny vitality rippled across the faces of Hyunjin Jeong, Uihyeon Jeong, and Taemin Gu as they sat on the sofas. Their skin was taut, and their eyes flashed with the volatile energy characteristic of people in their twenties, but their expressions remained frozen.

Seohan spoke, his voice entirely dry.

“Starting next month, please discontinue the 100-million-won monthly technical advisory fee you have been depositing into the Aeterno account.”

Hyunjin Jeong’s fingertips trembled minutely.

The ice inside the crystal rocks glass in his hand clinked sharply.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean all of a sudden, Dr. Lee? Don't tell me you're cutting off the drug now.”

A bizarre sense of urgency saturated Hyunjin Jeong’s voice. The thought of the suffocating lethargy and aging that would return if he missed even a single morning spray of Ghost sharpened his anxiety into panic.

“No. The supply will be maintained without any disruption. It is simply that the justification for receiving your money has disappeared.”

Seohan calmly slid the documents across the table toward the three men. The crisp rustle of paper cut through the silent reception room.

“Aether Bio’s 45-billion-won mega-round investment has been finalized. Furthermore, Lysis’s global royalty revenue is significantly exceeding our initial projected indicators.”

Seohan tapped the top of the documents.

“There is no longer any reason to receive roundabout infusions of personal funds into Aeterno.”

Taemin Gu narrowed his eyes, fiddling with the smart ring on his index finger. The ring's faint LED blinked a crimson warning as it detected his spiking pulse.

“Refusing money because you already have enough of it. No matter how I look at it, that doesn’t sound like something a normal businessman would say.”

Taemin Gu’s voice was composed, yet it carried the sharp, compulsive need for validation unique to a man born outside the lineage.

Seohan looked out into the darkness of the distant window instead of answering.

To Seohan, money was never the objective. It was merely the fuel required to launch Aether Bio into orbit, and now, that fuel was more than sufficient. Unnecessary private transactions were nothing but a risk. Aeterno had firmly established its position as the exclusive IP holding company, so there was no reason to leave any friction that could be seized upon as a vulnerability.

“Securing and keeping Aether Bio’s runway alive was my sole objective from the beginning. Now that the objective has been achieved, I am merely bringing the form of our transaction into a legal and conventional orbit.”

Uihyeon Jeong let out a heavy sigh and roughly rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing the blue veins bulging against his taut forearms.

“That doesn't sound like a favor intended for our convenience, Dr. Lee.”

Seohan nodded slightly, his face completely devoid of even a trace of a smile.

“It is not a favor; it is efficiency. A business model that relies on holding private vulnerabilities hostage carries too much long-term risk. Aether Bio has now achieved a weight class where we can transition into a formal contractual relationship.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Taemin Gu’s fingers rhythmically drummed against the armrest of his leather sofa. His mind began running calculations at a terrifying speed.

Taemin Gu stared intently into Seohan’s unyielding eyes. To them, 100 million won was not just pieces of paper. It was the 'proof of complicity' that allowed them to yank each other's leashes, the price of a squalid solidarity built on shared vulnerabilities. But cutting off that money supply meant...

“Dr. Lee. Are you taking us too lightly?”

Taemin Gu’s voice dropped an octave.

“Refusing to accept our money sounds like you no longer intend to be entangled with us as equal business partners.”

“Our business is already sufficiently tightly bound by Lysis’s patent rights and Ghost’s clinical data alone.”

Seohan glanced at his wristwatch. It was a silent pressure, indicating he had no more time to waste.

Taemin Gu felt a sudden, chilling shiver crawl down his spine. When he looked to his side, the faces of Hyunjin Jeong and Uihyeon Jeong had also gone deathly pale.

The perfectly engineered calculating machine inside Taemin Gu’s head finally spat out a single conclusion.

‘The complicity forged by shared weaknesses is over.’

‘Now, we aren't even customers purchasing a service with cash.’

To Taemin Gu, it looked like the beginning of the most absolute and cruelest form of biological dominion.

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Seohan left the room. The heavy thud of the soundproof door sealing shut echoed through the space.

While the ice on the table slowly melted, the three men remained completely motionless.

Taemin Gu slowly leaned forward, his fingertips digging into the armrest of the sofa.

“He means to liquidate our complicity.”

His voice dropped into a low, heavy register.

“He is tossing away the pretext of money and planting his feet firmly in a brutal master-servant relationship.”

Hyunjin Jeong swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily. Ironically, the vitality Ghost had given him only sharpened his senses, making him painfully aware of the threat.

“An opponent immune to the logic of capital...”

Hyunjin Jeong’s voice trembled faintly.

“Does this mean the hundreds of billions we possess look to him like nothing more than spilled culture medium on a lab floor?”

Uihyeon Jeong stared into the empty void as he unbuttoned his collar. A wave of thirst washed over him. Without that substance supplied every single morning, he was nothing more than an old man bound to a wheelchair.

Seohan’s refusal to accept their money was a declaration that he could cut off the supply whenever he pleased, entirely free of any moral or legal debt.

“It’s a domestication.”

Taemin Gu flashed a self-deprecating smile.

“He intends to hold the leash without even accepting the price of the feed. This isn't business; it’s subjugation.”

Silence weighed heavily upon the room. After a long pause, Uihyeon Jeong spoke with a heavy voice.

“...What are we supposed to do now?”

It was a pragmatic question. They were magnates who pulled the strings of South Korea, but at this exact moment, they were utterly powerless.

Hyunjin Jeong looked at Taemin Gu.

“Chairman Gu, what are your thoughts? If Lee Seohan threatens to cut off the drug, do we have an alternative?”

Taemin Gu gave a cynical laugh and began cleaning his glasses. He replied nonchalantly.

“An alternative? You already know Ghost is entering clinical trials, and you know very well that this isn't just some commercially available medicine.”

Taemin Gu adjusted his glasses and continued.

“Inside the value chain he monopolizes, we are nothing more than managed consumables.”

Taemin Gu roughly rolled up his shirt sleeves.

“What we need to do now is make an apex predator like Lee Seohan believe that we are worth domesticating. Until he perfectly erects his empire, we must engineer the board so that we remain, at the very least, an 'essential nutrient' to him.”

Hyunjin Jeong bit his lip. It was an undeniable reality.

Uihyeon Jeong leaned against the table and muttered darkly.

"In the end, you're telling us to hand over the leash."

The gazes of the three men tangled with complex calculations in midair. Taemin Gu drove the final wedge.

"We have to make him extend the drug himself because he needs us. We can't be in a position where we are begging for it."

Uihyeon Jeong narrowed his eyes at Taemin Gu’s chilling smile.

"Chairman Gu is right. None of us need to prostrate ourselves. We just need to make him dance on a stage that we built."

Taemin Gu lightly flicked his tablet screen. The display showed Seohan’s daily commute path, the convenience stores he frequented, and the detailed specifications of the G90 he had recently purchased.

“Dr. Lee is a pathological perfectionist when it comes to efficiency. Forcing luxury hotel meals or handing him supercars will only introduce irritating noise into his calculating circuits.”

Taemin Gu pressed the frame of his glasses, adding with a frigid tone.

“An environment he cannot reject. No, we must construct an 'invisible infrastructure' where his entire daily life paralyzes the moment we vanish.”

Hyunjin Jeong let out a hollow laugh, setting down his rock glass.

“So what? Are you going to tear up and rebuild every single road near Aether Bio?”

“To be precise, we are going to implant the nervous system of a hypercar into the hardware of a G90.”

Taemin Gu spoke in an unhurried, even tone.

“We strip out every single stock part. The underbody will be reinforced with a lightweight titanium alloy typically reserved for aircraft engines, and the suspension will be completely redesigned based on an F1 racing chassis.”

Taemin Gu’s finger swept smoothly across the screen.

“On top of that, we install military-grade electronic shielding and an intelligent suspension that learns road data in real-time to neutralize any unevenness in the asphalt. These are things that can never be housed inside a standard mass-production vehicle.”

The eyes of Hyunjin Jeong and Uihyeon Jeong widened simultaneously. The words spilling from Taemin Gu’s mouth were far too granular and absurd to belong to the realm of normal business strategy.

“On the outside, it will look like an ordinary G90, but the inside will be packed with the pinnacle of hypercar precision. The moment he takes the wheel, the car will synchronize with his senses, becoming a seamless extension of his own body.”

“Are you seriously going to gut and rebuild the entire thing?”

Taemin Gu pointed at a convenience store logo on the tablet, laughing coldly.

“The same applies to every single convenience store along Dr. Lee's commute and Aether Bio's perimeter. They will look like ordinary convenience stores on the outside, but the inventory will be directly controlled by MK Logistics.”

His gaze sank to a freezing depth.

“That 2,000-won canned coffee he drinks? Inside it will be beans roasted by one of the world’s finest baristas, blended with a nutritional profile optimized by our research institute. Naturally, the price tag will remain exactly as it is.”

Uihyeon Jeong let out a dumbfounded chuckle.

“So you're saying we're going to film a real-life The Truman Show just for Dr. Lee?”

“Because the most flawless domestication is achieved when the subject doesn't even realize they are being domesticated.”

Taemin Gu’s eyes flashed with a spark of grotesque madness.

“He will drink his 2,000-won coffee and drive his modest luxury sedan, believing he holds dominion over us and depends on absolutely nothing. But every piece of background data in his daily life will come from an environment we provide.”

Taemin Gu leaned his upper body forward.

“The moment we cut the supply, his car will revert to an unpleasant hunk of iron, and his morning coffee will transform into a garbage pile of cheap caffeine. Only then will he realize that even the very air he breathes cannot exist without the permission of our families.”

Uihyeon Jeong ran a hand through his hair and sank deep into the sofa. It was fiercely inefficient, yet at the same time, a terrifyingly effective obsession.

“You lunatics... You have so much rotting wealth that you're pulling stunts like this now.”

“Money is nothing but numbers, Chairman. And compared to the monthly fees we used to throw at him, this costs practically nothing. What matters is that we monopolize the 'constant of comfort' perceived by Dr. Lee's brain.”

Taemin Gu stood up from his seat, his smart ring emitting a cold, blue light as if signaling the initiation of a target.

“We begin tomorrow. Start by changing the illuminance of the streetlights on Dr. Lee's commute. Set them to the exact wavelength where his retinas feel the greatest comfort.”

Hyunjin Jeong knocked back the remaining lukewarm whisky in his glass in a single gulp. The empty glass met the marble table with a dull thud.

“Rigging the board from underneath the shadows is MK's specialty, after all.”

Taemin Gu powered down the tablet. His dry, unfeeling eyes reflected against the black screen.

“This isn't simple hardware tuning. This is the opening skirmish to redefine the entire ecosystem that is Lee Seohan.”

Uihyeon Jeong walked over to the window and drew back the thick blackout curtains. Outside, the cold darkness of deep night weighed heavily over the alleys of Hannam-dong. In the distance, the sharp lights of Teheran-ro’s skyscraper forest rose like colossal tombstones in the dark.

“Excellent. Let’s make him walk without ever knowing whose hide was tanned to make the carpet beneath his feet.”

Taemin Gu placed a call to his executive secretary.

“Pick up the vehicle. And transfer the full inventory logistics for every convenience store along Dr. Lee’s route to direct delivery from MK Headquarters. Immediately.”

Hyunjin Jeong twisted the corner of his mouth into a smirk, nodding his approval.

“The cage doors are officially open.”

In the darkness, Taemin Gu’s smart ring flashed with a cold pulse of blue light.