Ghosts of Eternity

Hidden in the deep shade at the foot of Mount Namsan stood a stone mansion.

Deep beneath that mansion lay a situation room entirely severed from the warmth of the world above.

Only the steady mechanical drone of cold HVAC units echoed through the space, where a massive OLED panel covering an entire wall poured out a chilly blue light.

Enclosed by thick concrete on all four sides, the room carried a faint scent of ozone mixed with the heavy smell of a leather sofa. Beneath the cold air-conditioning, an unnatural heat radiated from the newly rejuvenated bodies gathered around the table.

On the screen, real-time CCTV feeds around the Seoul National University Hospital Clinical Trials Center were interwoven with Aether Bio's server traffic graphs, flashing red as traffic spiked past capacity.

"A single hour for just forty slots, and fifty-eight hundred applicants rushed in. Aether Bio's servers crashed hours ago, and the lobby in Hyehwa-dong is complete chaos right now," reported Choi Do-sik, a legend within the intelligence service, lightly flicking his iPad to flip the screen.

Framed by his dark gray suit, his posture was upright, and his eyes gleamed with a sharp, vivid intensity.

Choi Do-sik zoomed in on one section of the screen.

Photos captured around SNUH's Clinical Trials Center—the underground parking garage, the pharmacy entrance, and the café across the street—appeared in rapid succession.

"It wasn't just applicants who rushed in."

The first photo showed a black sedan tailing a hospital employee.

The second caught a man stopped by security while trying to approach a clinical trial coordinator.

The third clearly captured two foreign nationals taking photos of the license plate on an investigational drug transport vehicle.

"This morning alone, seventeen brokers approached hospital staff. Six tried to verify the transport route for the samples. Two of them were confirmed to belong to domestic subsidiaries of global pharma."

Choi Do-sik slid his finger across the screen. Red lines connected the faces of the individuals in the photos to their respective organizations one by one.

"This side is a private physician network in Gangnam. This side represents two prominent families. And these three—we're still verifying who's behind them."

Park Sang-do tilted his glass of ice and scoffed.

"Scavengers are already circling before the first shell has even landed."

"Once the drug's efficacy is confirmed, it will get much worse," Kang Min-joo said, staring at the screen with an impassive face. "Right now, they're merely trying to buy an opportunity for administration. Next, they'll try to steal the samples, and after that, they'll try to buy the formula."

Choi Do-sik nodded slowly.

"That's why I'm tagging every single one of them. We need to know who reaches out first so we can decide how far to twist their wrists later."

Park Sang-do chuckled with satisfaction. "I'll handle the wrists."

Choi Do-sik lightly adjusted his shirt cuffs and turned his gaze toward the monitor.

"One hundred and forty-five to one. Quite the competition for a trial volunteer slot."

General Park Sang-do sank deep into the leather sofa and laughed heartily. The ice clinked against the crystal tumbler in his hand.

His right hand no longer trembled.

Barely a month ago, he had needed help rising from a wheelchair. Now he sat without assistance, his grip steady and his shoulders filling out the tailored Italian shirt once again. His posture radiated the intimidating presence of a beast that had commanded battlefields decades ago.

"They didn't gather just for the participation allowance," Kang Min-joo interjected, her voice calm yet ice-cold.

She gently pushed up the thin metal Chanel frames on the bridge of her nose with her index finger. Exposed above her navy Hermès silk blouse, her neckline retained the full firmness of her thirties.

Her deep, clear eyes tracked the fluctuating numbers and data waves beyond the monitor with remarkable precision.

"This is closer to a scream from dying cells begging to be saved. What could be more fatal to aging humans than this?"

Kang Min-joo crossed her legs and lightly snapped her fingers.

"The bait Director Lee threw isn't just a novel bio-drug. It's a distribution ticket for absolute power over 'time.' People are ready to sell their souls just to hold that ticket."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from NovelFire. Please report it.

"She's right. In the end, laws are merely rules created to control public desire," agreed former judge Shin Hae-ryung, tossing a thick stack of documents onto the marble table. The paper hit with a dull thud.

Her back, once bent by pain from spinal stenosis, now remained straight for hours without complaint. The fit of her gray Givenchy suit hugged her frame with crisp elegance.

Inside her mind, every fine clause of the tangled legal codes remained embedded as clearly as if read yesterday. Her judgment was as sharp and swift as a scalpel in its prime.

"The market is in an uproar the moment the Phase 1 trial plan is approved. That means we won't even need to manufacture a justification for a Phase 2 fast track. With public sentiment like this, public desire itself becomes legal logic."

Shin Hae-ryung smiled with a cold gaze, looking at Park Sang-do over her glasses.

Park Sang-do set his glass on the table, then picked it up again. Even as he lifted the heavy tumbler filled with ice and whiskey, there wasn't the slightest tremor in his fingertips.

Shin Hae-ryung's posture remained unbroken. In the past, sitting for just ten minutes caused pain to radiate down her lower back, but now she sat comfortably without sign of discomfort.

Kang Min-joo pretended not to notice. Instead, she enjoyed her own clear vision, which hadn't blurred despite reading numbers continuously since dawn. Complex capital flows that previously required her secretary to summarize three times were now visible at a glance.

Only Choi Do-sik maintained an unreadable expression, though his speed in flipping through the iPad was nearly twice as fast as before.

All of them knew. This meeting wasn't solely for Aether Bio.

If Ghost's clinical trial was delayed, the next supply batch would be delayed as well. The reason they moved law, administration, and capital wasn't grand national development; it was to delay the moment their own bodies declined again, even by a single day.

The elders' gazes naturally shifted toward Gu Tae-min, seated in the central seat of honor.

Gu Tae-min tracked the pulse data recorded by the smart ring on his finger while staring at the crowd on the screen.

"The trial isn't meant to verify Director Lee's substance. It's a procedure to see how quickly regulatory agencies accept reality," Gu Tae-min said, flicking his finger to dismiss the hologram in midair. The glowing red trial metrics vanished instantly, replaced by a neural network of satellite routes and maritime supply bases covering the globe.

"We need to run simulations for Phase 3 preparations right now. This isn't just about collecting data. It means building a physical algorithm capable of bypassing global regulatory delays and delivering Ghost wherever the world's most powerful people demand it."

Park Sang-do gripped the glass on the table tightly, the ice rattling inside.

"Phase 3? We've barely finished the initial single dose of Phase 1. Chairman Gu, isn't your fire burning a bit too hot?"

"It's not fire; it's a survival calculation. The chances of Director Lee's design being wrong in Phase 1 and Phase 2 are low. But there's no guarantee the regulatory system will keep up. We must prepare a structure in advance where eligible adults over forty can gain access through indication expansion."

Shin Hae-ryung lightly tapped the stack of papers on the table to align them before continuing.

"We need to tear up the Ministry of Health and Welfare's outdated guidelines first. The draft for a special bill defining aging as a disease is already in my head. If we insert an 'Emergency Use Authorization' clause under the 'Therapeutic Confirmatory Trial' section in Phase 3, a legal distribution pathway opens for all eligible adults over forty. Law shouldn't chase phenomena; it should be the fence that encloses the phenomena we want."

Choi Do-sik adjusted his tie, adding his deep, resonant voice.

"Let's unify the frame under 'Preserving National Productivity.' The logic that preventing cognitive and physical decline in key brains over forty directly serves national security. Once the justification is set, budget and administration will follow on their own."

In the dim light, Gu Tae-min's eyes gleamed cold.

"What we also need to build is a shield of lead around Director Lee, so he isn’t burned at the center of this massive flame. We can't let the Ministry of Food and Drug Safety's sluggish administrative process consume his time."

Gu Tae-min's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. Tap, tap, tap.

"Director Choi, mobilize intelligence lines to run background checks on the entire applicant list. There will definitely be spies sent by competitors or global big pharma mixed in among ordinary people. If even a single piece of clinical data leaks out, it must be treated as treason."

Choi Do-sik nodded, typing rapidly on an encrypted messenger without hesitation.

"I've already completed background checks on the four opposing members among the nine members of the advisory committee. If anyone opposes due to outside funding, I'll ensure they recover their academic conscience before lunch tomorrow—complete with their offshore bank statements."

Gu Tae-min nodded in satisfaction and looked at Park Sang-do.

"General Park, replace the hospital perimeter security with our elite units disguised as military subcontractors. Anyone pointing a camera lens—be it a reporter or a YouTuber—you have permission to smash their equipment and break their wrists on the spot."

Park Sang-do twisted his lips grimly and clenched his fist.

"Easier than setting targets at a firing range. I've already pressured the Ministry of National Defense to declare the area around the hospital a special control zone under the banner of national security. If the pen fails, we clear the path with the barrel."

Without changing his expression, Choi Do-sik typed into his tablet: Strengthen hospital perimeter security lines and isolate media movement routes.

Shin Hae-ryung set down her teacup, sealing the matter. The cup met the saucer with a clear, cool sound.

"I'll summon the Minister of Food and Drug Safety and the Ministry of Health and Welfare's legal director to my private retreat early tomorrow morning. I've already dug up and sharpened the 'Early Approval Clause for Rare Drugs Equivalent to National Emergencies' from a corner of the legal code. We will carve the shortest path from Phase 2 straight to conditional approval before Phase 3. If anyone raises an objection, I'll turn their entire judicial career into an answer key of mistakes."

Kang Min-joo also smiled while tracing capital trajectories on her iPad.

"Yeouido brokerage houses are ready to pour out research reports under the keyword 'K-Bio Strategic Asset.' Anyone questioning Aether Bio's valuation will be buried under a tidal wave of capital. We won't give opposing sentiment room to breathe."

Gu Tae-min slowly rose from his seat. Draped in his suit, his silhouette was lean and commanding.

"Good. As soon as possible, a complete Phase 2 fast-track package, ready to activate the moment the Phase 1 results are submitted, must be placed on Director Lee's desk. That is the fair price we pay for subscribing to this youth."

The elders stood up to disperse to their respective posts. Their steps were heavy and unhesitating against the marble floor.

It was the moment the old powers holding up South Korea became the youngest and most ruthless command center in the nation.