Ghosts of Eternity

The Ghost Fortress-24 <A Question He Couldn’t Answer>



The lobby of The Westin Josun Seoul glowed beneath warm ceiling lights.

The area near the banquet hall, where the KDDF partnering event was taking place, was already buzzing with people. The low murmur of well-groomed bio-venture CEOs and Asia-Pacific representatives from global big pharma exchanging business cards filled the air.

Seohan stopped in the shadows behind a pillar. He had just finished meeting three global pharma companies from the US and Europe in a row, pouring out clinical data for the IL-2 variant. Hours of pushing numbers, graphs, and difficult contract terms while testing the limits of the other side’s position had left his mind feeling scorched.

Seohan sank deep into a dark green velvet chair in a quiet, out-of-the-way corner of the lobby. The chill of the fabric seeped through his shirt and against his back.

Just as he closed his eyes for a moment to cool his head, an unfamiliar silhouette caught the edge of his vision near a massive marble pillar.

It was Seoyoon Baek. She was in the middle of a conversation with three European delegates. In her pale cream silk blouse, the warm lobby light traced a clean line along her profile.

Seoyoon spoke fluent English, gesturing lightly as she talked. She maintained a soft smile at the corners of her mouth while looking her counterparts straight in the eye. Every gesture was economical, every expression precisely measured.

Seohan was watching her blankly when Seoyoon, finishing her conversation with a final handshake, slowly turned her head.

Her eyes locked precisely with Seohan's.

In that fleeting silence, the corners of Seoyoon’s eyes curved softly. She walked toward the corner where Seohan sat with light, measured steps. As she approached, a faint scent of lily of the valley cut cleanly through the heavy hotel air.

Seohan stood up and offered a slight nod, then gestured toward the empty seat beside him.

"Have a seat here."

Seoyoon sat down with a fluid motion and examined Seohan’s complexion.

"Are you here for BD meetings today? You look exhausted."

"Yeah. I met with a few big pharma reps about licensing out our IL-2 candidate. But it’s not easy. Maybe it’s because the field is so crowded, but even with this much Phase 2 data, they keep asking for more. For now, we’re still too far apart."

Seohan rested his chin on his hand and smiled bitterly. Seoyoon nodded, her fingertips lightly tracing the surface of the leather clutch resting on her lap.

"The pharma market is naturally conservative, so there's not much you can do. To them, data is the safest way to protect capital. The cost of failure is just too high. That’s why they keep asking for more."

Her voice was calm and rational. Seohan straightened slightly and got to the point.

"That aside, how is the consulting contract for Aetherno coming along?"

Seohan's gaze sharpened in an instant. Seoyoon dropped her eyes briefly to collect her thoughts before looking him straight in the eye again.

"I officially submitted the policy proposal a little while ago. Since it's a roadmap linked to the regulatory sandbox, there seems to be a lot to review on their end. There hasn't been a clear response from the higher-ups just yet. I wanted to give you a definitive answer, which is why it took me a while to get back to you."

"A regulatory sandbox..."

"Yes. You have to package regulatory reform as something they can sell—an accelerated track with measurable value. I’ve framed it in a way the decision-makers will find difficult to ignore, so just hold on a little longer."

Seohan felt a strange sense of relief at her confident tone. Seoyoon let out a soft chuckle as she noticed his tense shoulders.

"Your brain looks completely fried. Feel like grabbing a bowl of Pyongyang naengmyeon?"

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"Pyongyang naengmyeon?"

"Yes. That clean broth is good for washing numbers and regulations out of your head. There's nothing better for clearing your mind."

Seohan let out a quiet laugh at her quirky yet firm preference.

"Sure, why not."

Seohan stood up first.

"Let's take my car. It's parked in the underground lot."

The two left the lobby and took the escalator down to the underground parking garage. In a dark corner of the lot, Seohan’s black G90 stood with a heavy, solid presence.

As Seohan approached with the smart key in his pocket, the vehicle’s welcome lights flickered on, and the doors unlocked softly. After Seoyoon got into the passenger seat, Seohan climbed into the driver's seat. The moment the door closed, the outside noise was completely cut off, and a dense quiet settled over them.

Seoyoon leaned back against the passenger seat and let out a quiet breath. Just then, her eyebrows twitched subtly.

It happened as she went to place the takeout coffee she was holding into the cup holder on the center console. Inside the cup holder, a soft blue LED came to life, and a cool touch brushed her fingertips as the internal temperature automatically adjusted to match the beverage.

At the same time, the passenger window darkened automatically, softening the sunlight. The entire process unfolded without the passenger lifting a finger, controlled entirely by built-in sensors.

Seoyoon froze, cup still in hand. To call it a simple option on a luxury sedan, it was a setup she had never seen before. It was a perfectly controlled artificial space, as if refusing to tolerate even the slightest discomfort for its occupants.

To Seoyoon, the car seemed to reflect Seohan’s obsessive perfectionism and need for control down to the smallest detail.

"This car setup... is quite unique," Seoyoon remarked quietly.

Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Seohan pressed down on the accelerator as if it were nothing.

"Well... I just got it fully loaded."

At his nonchalant response, a faint flicker of curiosity touched Seoyoon’s lips as she turned her gaze out the window. The black sedan slid silently into the Seoul night.

At the end of an old alley in Pildong, the air inside a seventy-year-old restaurant felt cool. Beneath the low ceiling, the clear metallic clink of brass bowls echoed at regular intervals.

As soon as Seohan sat down, he neatly rolled his linen shirt sleeves up past his elbows. Steam curled from a small cup on the table, but Seohan’s gaze remained fixed on a spot in midair.

"There's an IL-11 inhibitor we're currently developing. In previous studies, blocking IL-11 extended the lifespan of aged mice by nearly twenty-five percent. In our own experiments, aging-related fat accumulation and fibrosis markers are stepping down in the same direction."

Seohan’s fingers tapped on the empty table as if striking imaginary piano keys.

"IL-11 was originally known as a key switch for fibrosis. But when you suppress it, several aging-related processes slow down with it. If we can precisely combine this with a mechanism that suppresses the inflammatory response of IL-18..."

Instead of answering, Seoyoon lifted the brass bowl filled with broth with both hands. Taking a deep gulp of the broth—so clear it was almost transparent—the clean flavors of buckwheat and meat broth spread gently across her palate. Setting the bowl down, she lightly loosened the noodles.

"Seohan."

"Yes?"

The server set down two brass bowls of Pyongyang naengmyeon with a few thin shards of ice floating on the surface. Seoyoon paused with her chopsticks in hand. Her gaze drifted casually past Seohan's rolled-up forearm and slowly met his eyes.

A fine mist of condensation formed on the surface of the brass bowls.

"Is there anything you're interested in besides work?"

His chopsticks stopped midair. The stream of data in his head stopped cold. Seohan stared at Seoyoon through his glasses. His expression went briefly blank. The subtle aroma of the Pyongyang naengmyeon broth filled the taut silence between them.

Seohan's fingers slipped uneasily along the rim of the brass bowl. The clear voice that had been discussing interleukin pathways only moments ago faltered. His thoughts, which would normally produce immediate answers, had stalled before an unexpected question.

"I do... well, there are things...."

His words trailed off into a blur. Seohan turned his gaze toward the worn signboard outside the window and swallowed hard. He had negotiated tens of billions of won and injected powerful men without hesitation. Yet this simple question disrupted his breathing.

"It's just... it's not the kind of thing I've ever refined into words to talk about. I need a little time to prepare an explanation."

Seoyoon set her chopsticks down, rested her chin on her hand, and observed him. The man whose shoulders usually boasted a flawless geometric silhouette had gone subtly rigid. Beneath his usual composure, a rare, unguarded uncertainty crossed his face.

"Preparation? I was just asking what you enjoy doing in your free time. Does that really require such complicated preparation?"

Seohan unnecessarily adjusted the frame of his glasses. Inside his head, the few fragments filed under “hobbies” collided chaotically. The private world of his lucid dreams, the memories he returned to there—none of it could be translated into ordinary conversation.

"I haven't done anything for enjoyment since graduating from college...."

Seohan’s voice trailed off into a whisper. A strange spark lit up Seoyoon’s eyes. Watching that cool intellect—the very mind that could overpower global big pharma—creak so helplessly before a simple word like 'interests' was unlike anything Seoyoon had expected from him.

The smile on Seoyoon’s lips was no longer merely polite. She was looking at him with genuine curiosity now, as though she had discovered an unexpected flaw in an otherwise perfectly ordered system.

Seohan drank only the cold broth, trying to cool his burning throat. A conversation with no clear answer weighed on him more heavily than any licensing negotiation.

By the time the meal ended, Seohan still had not found an answer.

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