Ghosts of Eternity

Evening fell over Teheran-ro, casting long, crimson shadows between the forest of skyscrapers.

A deep black G90 glided smoothly to a halt in front of the main entrance of Aether Bio.

The head of the maintenance team stepped out of the car and hurried over as soon as he spotted Seohan. A gleaming smart key rested in his hand.

Bowing respectfully, he lowered his voice.

"As you instructed, sir, we completely overhauled the undercarriage setup and control systems. The moment you drive it, you’ll notice the difference. The cabin is far quieter than before."

Seohan offered a faint nod and opened the driver’s side door without a word.

Thud.

The heavy door shut, sealing out the noise of Teheran-ro without a trace.

The faint scent of fine leather reached him.

As he pressed gently on the accelerator, the massive vehicle glided forward over the pavement.

The engine produced barely a trace of vibration. Even the rough hiss of the tires against the road had been filtered away.

The car held the road firmly, responding to the slightest movement of his fingertips.

The sensation was strangely disorienting.

Rather than a simple mode of transportation, it felt as though he had boarded a massive piece of machinery engineered for one purpose: reducing driver fatigue as much as possible.

Seohan turned the wheel a little deeper as he changed lanes.

The body of the heavy car didn't lean to the side at all. The delay between the moment he turned the wheel and the moment the car stabilized was noticeably shorter than before. Even when passing over speed bumps, the impact ended in a muted thump beneath the seat, never traveling up into his lower back.

No warning lights showed on the dashboard. Seohan pulled up the driving information display and checked the tire pressure and suspension settings one by one. Judging from the numbers alone, nothing seemed unusual.

"Could a single round of maintenance really change a car this much?"

The question crossed his mind, but it wasn't unpleasant. His lower back, usually stiff after twelve-hour workdays, felt completely at ease—at least while he was driving.

Seohan didn't bother digging deeper into the cause. As long as there were no safety issues and his fatigue was reduced, it was simply a job well done by maintenance.

With the setting sun at its back, the G90 cut through the road.

The moment he merged onto Gangbyeonbuk-ro, a gridlock of bumper-to-bumper traffic came into view.

The evening rush hour was in full swing.

A sea of glowing red taillights filled the view ahead.

Seohan took his foot off the pedal and glanced toward the center console.

He noticed a navy-blue coffee can sitting in the cup holder.

A two-thousand-won can of Let’s Be, the kind sold everywhere.

It seemed a mechanic had accidentally left it behind during the service.

Seohan reached out lightly and picked up the can.

The instant his fingertips touched it, the temperature felt unusually precise.

It wasn't just cold.

The tab was unopened. After checking the expiration date on the bottom, Seohan hooked his finger under the tab.

Snap.

As the can opened, the familiar aroma of coffee wafted out. It wasn't uncomfortably cold, nor was it lukewarm. The sweetness was clear without turning cloying, and the usual powdered-milk aftertaste was noticeably softer.

Wondering if it was truly the same brand, he rotated the can. The navy label and familiar logo were exactly the same.

"Even these taste better nowadays."

Seohan took another sip without giving it much thought.

It tasted far better than the canned coffee he was used to, the flavor remaining perfectly consistent as he drank.

Just then, the low evening sun blazed through the windshield, but the glass automatically darkened to block the glare.

Amid the shimmering red lights on the congested road, Seohan’s mind began to sharpen with razor-like clarity.

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The G90 glided silently along the road as darkness began to settle.

Deep in a Cheongdam-dong alley, the heavy wooden gate of an unmarked hanok restaurant called Dan swung open without a sound.

Warm air drifted out, carrying the scents of dried bamboo, agarwood, and peaty single-malt whisky.

Inside a spacious private dining room, three men were waiting beneath the muted indirect lighting.

Hyeonjin Jeong, Uihyeon Jeong, and Taemin Koo.

All three looked decades younger than they had any right to, their complexions taut and flushed with health.

A restless vitality seemed to radiate from them, warming the entire room.

Seohan opened the door and walked in.

He wore a casual linen shirt with the sleeves loosely rolled up twice, paired with slim trousers.

Hyeonjin Jeong slowly rolled a round ice sphere inside his crystal glass and broke the silence.

"There you are, Dr. Lee. We should stop hiding in places like this. Meeting in dark safehouses every time makes it look like we’re plotting something. People might get the wrong idea."

As Hyeonjin finished speaking, he subtly checked the expressions of Uihyeon Jeong and Taemin Koo beside him.

He scanned Seohan with precision, as if trying to catch even the slightest shift in emotion.

Seohan offered no response.

He simply sat down quietly in his designated seat and neatly adjusted the sleeves of his linen shirt.

That unbothered composure, ironically, grated slightly on their nerves.

Uihyeon Jeong tapped the smartwatch on his wrist and tossed a casual glance toward him.

"Lately, the sensors on my G90 keep throwing errors. Mine was acting up too, so I had both cars sent in for a full overhaul."

Clack.

Clack.

Heavy crystal glasses hit the marble table, making dull thuds.

"So? Worth sending it in, wasn’t it?"

Uihyeon smirked as he looked at Seohan.

"A car needs to function properly to be worth the money."

Seohan took a sip of water from the glass on the table. The sound of him swallowing echoed softly in the quiet room.

"It was almost too quiet."

"Right? That's the whole point of driving it."

"Sometimes, without looking at the speedometer, I can't even tell how fast I'm going."

At Seohan’s dry response, Uihyeon asked with feigned indifference, "Did it help cut down on fatigue during long drives?"

"It certainly helped."

"Any plans to change cars?"

"No. What I have now is more than enough."

Instead of answering further, Uihyeon raised his glass.

No plans to change cars.

To them, that was the most welcome answer possible. Seohan was accepting the modified environment as part of his daily routine. He had no intention of disposing of the car or switching to another brand.

Taemin Koo tapped the tip of his finger against the Let’s Be can sitting before him.

"Hasn't the taste of Let’s Be changed a bit lately?"

It was a probing question.

The G90's thermoelectric cup holder had activated, keeping the canned coffee Seohan liked at precisely the right temperature. All three watched him closely, waiting to see whether he had noticed.

Seohan set his glass down and replied nonchalantly, "Well... it was less lukewarm than usual today."

Taemin’s eyes deepened. His bare eyes, stripped of his glasses, gleamed faintly.

"That's a relief. If you ever drop by an MK Convenience Store, try a triangle kimbap or a sandwich sometime. We've been completely overhauling the recipes lately."

"Convenience store food?"

"If MK is going to be the best in the industry, we have to start with the basics."

Taemin leaned back against his chair, looking genuinely satisfied.

Right on cue, the door opened. A server entered soundlessly and set down a wide jade platter. Paper-thin slices of fugu sashimi lay almost transparent against the green surface.

Hyeonjin picked up his chopsticks. He placed a piece of fugu sashimi into his mouth and met Uihyeon's gaze.

Uihyeon offered a quiet nod.

A strange sense of accomplishment passed between them.

The quietness of the G90.

And the subtle temperature shift of the cup holder.

It came from their conviction that the plan was working—that they were gradually surrounding Seohan’s entire life with carefully engineered comfort.

Taemin picked up a wet towel. He carefully wiped his fingers one by one as he stared at Seohan.

The smart ring monitored him in real time. His heart rate remained perfectly steady.

"By the way, Dr. Lee. Things at Aether Bio must be chaotic right now because of Ghost's clinical trials."

Taemin leaned his upper body forward slightly. His voice dropped a notch.

"There aren't... any issues with the supply schedule, right?"

In that instant, Hyeonjin's fingers twitched subtly. Tension surged into his fingertips resting on the table. His gaze locked tightly onto Seohan's lips.

The three billion won they paid him every month, and the unnatural vitality delivered by the nasal spray each morning—the fear of losing both flickered deep in his eyes.

Seohan didn't reach for his chopsticks.

Instead of the delicacy before him, he merely stared absently at a white porcelain vase resting in the corner of the room.

"The setup for the GMP facility is complete. The yield is turning out better than expected, too."

Seohan pulled a chilled metal case from the bag beneath the table. The metal case slid across the marble and stopped at the center of the table.

"You won’t need to send anyone over every day anymore. This is a month's supply."

Hyeonjin drew a slow, unsteady breath.

The daily ritual of waiting for Seohan’s message had been replaced by a full month of guaranteed supply.

"Supply won't be interrupted during the clinical trial period. Use it as needed. There’s no charge for this batch."

A month’s supply. Free of charge.

Uihyeon cleared his throat, covering his mouth to hide the smile breaking through.

Taemin also sank deep into his seat, exchanging glances with Hyeonjin.

Their minds were already filled with the sweet taste of victory.

Trapped by the very comfort they had built around him, the genius had begun to disarm himself. It was the best outcome they could have hoped for.

"Now that’s the Dr. Lee we know."

Hyeonjin chuckled heartily and picked up the liquor bottle. Amber liquid sloshed and filled Seohan's empty glass to the brim.

"How could we not understand how you feel, Dr. Lee? Things are going well. Let’s drink to that."

Clink.

The crystal glasses collided in midair.

A crisp chime shattered the room's silence. The ambient light fragmented softly inside the glasses.

Hyeonjin stroked the metal case, his face already flushed from the alcohol. A full month of certainty now sat beneath his palm.

A deep smile hung on the corners of Taemin's lips as well.

Everything was flowing according to his calculations. No matter how brilliant Seohan Lee was, in the end, he was doing nothing more than sinking deeper into the comfort they had designed for him.

Uihyeon emptied his glass and muttered under his breath, "Looks like we can move on to the next phase."

Taemin was quietly observing Seohan's face. His expression was identical to the day he had announced he would cut off their money. Yet, the outcome was the exact opposite.

The supply had increased. Deliveries were less frequent. And now, it cost them nothing.

Whatever the cause, the result was real.

And it had begun at exactly the same time their carefully planted comforts started taking hold.

Taemin didn't believe in coincidences.

In Taemin’s mind, Seohan had already begun accepting their carefully engineered comfort as normal. Now, all that remained was to make sure he understood who had built that comfort around him.