Taeho turned to Gihwan and said,
“At first, we were going to build an emergency medical center. But after today, I think a simple emergency center won’t be enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s expand it into a marine medical center.”
Gihwan’s eyes widened.
“A marine medical center?”
“Yes. A specialized medical facility for the divers and fishermen in this region. Not just providing first aid, but offering medical services specialized for marine environments.”
There was a serious passion in Taeho’s voice.
“We’ll equip it with a decompression chamber, train medical staff specialized in marine accidents… so that even if a patient with decompression sickness like today’s comes in, we can respond immediately.”
“That’s a really good idea. I think it would create synergy with the marine biopharmaceuticals being developed at the research institute, too.”
“We could also directly apply things like the seaweed-derived immunomodulatory substances from your institute to actual clinical practice.”
Taeho explained in greater detail.
“We can provide divers with regular health checkups and safety training, and fishermen with 24-hour emergency medical services. And in the future, we could even make it a mecca of marine medical research.”
“If a specialized facility like that actually existed, we could handle incidents like today’s much more systematically.”
“And as the first step toward that, this development of seaweed-derived immunomodulatory biomaterials is truly important.”
“Yes. I’ll take responsibility and produce research results of the highest standard.”
Gihwan answered solemnly.
Taeho immediately fell deep into thought.
Gihwan could not even begin to guess what kind of grand picture was being drawn in this man’s mind.
***
They departed from Incheon International Airport, passed through Paris, and arrived in Brest at three in the afternoon, local time. The campus of the University of Western Brittany was located on a hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, offering a full view of the blue waters of Brest Bay in the distance.
“Wow, this place is really beautiful.”
Gihwan exclaimed in admiration. Taeho smiled and nodded, but his gaze was already fixed on the conference hall building.
After unpacking their luggage at the hotel, the two headed to the conference venue early the next morning.
In front of the Marine Science Center, where a banner for IMBC—the International Marine Biotechnology Conference—was hanging, researchers from all over the world were busily coming and going. Befitting one of the oldest and most prestigious conferences in the field of marine biotechnology, English, French, German, and Chinese could be heard mixing together.
“Let’s go register first.”
As he went to the registration desk to receive his name badge, Taeho looked around. Most of the attendees were Western researchers, but there were quite a few Asian faces as well.
“Kang Taeho and Seong Gihwan. Geumsan Research Institute, Korea.”
“Welcome to Brest. Is this your first time at IMBC?”
The staff member handing them their badges smiled brightly.
“Yes, it is.”
“There will be many innovative studies presented this year as well, so I’m sure you’ll find it exciting.”
As he received his badge and picked up the conference bag, Taeho could already feel his heart beating faster. The moment had finally come for him to present the research results he had prepared all this time on the world stage.
The morning session of the first day of the conference.
In the main auditorium, around four hundred participants were packed into their seats. Taeho and Seong Gihwan sat in the back and listened carefully to the other presentations.
“Next is Professor Yamada from the University of Tokyo’s Ocean Research Institute.”
Following the moderator’s introduction, a Japanese researcher stepped up to the podium. The moment Taeho saw the title of his presentation, he was startled.
“Immunomodulatory Effects of Pacific Kelp Extract: A New Paradigm in Marine Medicine”
Gihwan whispered in confusion.
“Uh, this is almost identical to our research.”
“Let’s listen first.”
Taeho also began listening calmly to the presentation.
Professor Yamada’s presentation was certainly of a high standard. His systematic analysis of immunomodulatory substances extracted from various seaweeds was impressive. But in Taeho’s eyes, there was a decisive difference.
‘His understanding of the mechanism of action is superficial. And there are no actual clinical application cases.’
When Professor Yamada’s presentation ended, the Q&A session began.
“It is a very interesting study, but do you have any cases of application to actual patients?”
The question came in English with a German accent. It was Dr. Müller of the Max Planck Institute for Marine Microbiology.
“We are still at the animal testing stage. We plan to begin clinical trials next year.”
“I see. The transition from animal testing to human clinical application is the most difficult part. Especially in the case of immunomodulatory substances.”
Dr. Müller smiled and nodded.
Another questioner raised his hand.
“Professor, do you have any plans to collaborate with other research teams in the Pacific region? Especially with research institutes in Korea or China?”
Professor Yamada hesitated for a moment before answering.
“Of course, I believe cooperation within Asia is important. However, matching the qualitative level of research and international standards must come first.”
There was a subtle nuance of belittling the research level of other Asian countries.
Gihwan glanced at Taeho’s expression and whispered softly.
“What is with that guy? He’s really arrogant.”
“It’s all right. Once he hears our presentation tomorrow, he’ll change his mind.”
Taeho answered calmly.
The presentation ended, and it was break time.
Many researchers gathered around Professor Yamada. It seemed he was drawing attention due to the reputation of the University of Tokyo and the systematic content of his research.
When Taeho returned from the restroom, he saw Gihwan greeting Professor Yamada.
“Ah, you’re from Korea. Nice to meet you. Are you perhaps from Seoul National University?”
“No. We’re from Geumsan Research Institute in Samcheok.”
When he heard the words “Geumsan Research Institute in Samcheok,” Professor Yamada narrowed his eyes, then smiled.
“It must be due to my limited knowledge, but that’s a place I’m hearing of for the first time.”
“We’re small-scale, and it hasn’t been long since we started, so you probably wouldn’t know us well. I listened to your presentation, Professor. It was impressive. We’re doing similar research ourselves, so I found it even more interesting.”
“I see. What field are you researching?”
“The immunomodulatory effects of kelp extract from the East Sea. We’re focusing especially on clinical application cases.”
Professor Yamada’s expression changed subtly.
“You mean the Sea of Japan. Then I suppose our raw materials are the same. But did you say clinical application? That is quite interesting. Clinical application from a small research institute in Samcheok… Hah. I see.”
A sneer flashed across his face for the briefest moment.
Gihwan seemed not to notice, but Taeho, watching from behind, saw it clearly.
At that moment, Taeho stepped forward.
“Hello, Professor Yamada. I’m Kang Taeho of Geumsan Research Institute.”
Professor Yamada turned around and smiled out of courtesy.
“Ah, hello.”
“I listened to your presentation with interest. In particular, your in vitro experimental results were impressive.”
“Thank you. They’re the result of three years of systematic research.”
“Yes, but there’s one thing I’m curious about.”
Taeho continued with a smile.
“In slide 17, you showed the T-cell activation pattern, and the ratio of regulatory T-cells to effector T-cells appeared as 3:7. However, in actual patients, that ratio varies greatly depending on infection status, immune status, and age.”
Professor Yamada’s expression gradually began to stiffen.
“So I’m curious. How do you plan to account for those variables in actual clinical practice?”
“That is something we plan to verify in future clinical trials.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?”
“We’ve already applied it to sixty-seven patients, and the response patterns were completely different by age group. In particular, among patients in their fifties and older, the results were the exact opposite of the mechanism you presented.”
The other researchers nearby began to show interest.
“Did you just say sixty-seven?”
Dr. Müller cut in.
“Yes, sixty-seven patients with chronic inflammation. All of them were declared fully recovered.”
Professor Yamada said in fluster,
“But for a small research institute to conduct a clinical study of that scale…”
“A small scale does not necessarily mean a small number of patients.”
Taeho spoke with a relaxed smile.
“Rather, large research institutes have complicated approval procedures, so actual clinical application is probably more difficult for them. We accumulated data while treating patients directly in emergency situations.”
Just then, Professor Jin Luo of Tsinghua University in China cut in with a mocking laugh.
“Even so, as a small research institute, there are bound to be limitations. At international conferences like this, the scale of research and level of investment are important. In China, we have already achieved considerable results in research on seaweed-derived immunological substances. In particular, our institute receives more than five million dollars in annual research funding from the government.”
Taeho looked at Professor Jin and said,
“Professor Jin, you said you receive five million dollars in annual research funding, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right. And?”
“Our institute doesn’t even receive five hundred thousand dollars a year.”
Professor Jin smiled, feeling superior.
“Then all the more…”
“But what if we compare treatment success rates per patient? How many patients have you actually treated with five million dollars? We cured sixty-seven patients with five hundred thousand.”
Professor Jin’s face flushed red.
“That is… the quality of that research…”
“The quality of the research?”
Taeho smiled quietly and said,
“Please listen to my presentation tomorrow. Then make your judgment.”
The surroundings fell silent. Several researchers were watching with interest.
Professor Yamada forced a smile and said,
“I’ll look forward to tomorrow’s presentation.”
“Yes. I think you, in particular, will find it especially worthwhile.”
Taeho spoke meaningfully.
“Since you are presenting on the same topic, you’ll be able to compare the differences directly.”
Gihwan looked at Taeho with a proud expression. The other researchers nearby also began to show interest in tomorrow’s presentation.
Professor Jin left, whispering to his colleagues in Chinese, and Professor Yamada also headed elsewhere with an awkward smile.
Gihwan exclaimed softly,
“Director, that was so satisfying!”
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
Taeho nodded.
***
After returning to the hotel, Taeho and Seong Gihwan began the final check for tomorrow’s presentation. Since he had boldly stood his ground against Professor Yamada and Professor Jin today, they had to prepare an even more perfect presentation.
But as soon as Gihwan turned on the laptop, a problem occurred.
“Huh? This is strange. The file won’t open.”
Gihwan spoke with a bewildered expression.
“What’s the problem?”
“I think it’s a server synchronization error. It was fine until yesterday…”
Taeho hurriedly checked, and the situation was serious.
They tried again and again, but the result was the same. The most important clinical results among all their research data had disappeared.
Seong Gihwan’s face turned deathly pale.
“Our presentation is tomorrow, and now this… After talking so big today, what are we going to do?”
Taeho looked at the clock. There were less than ten hours left until the presentation.
“We’ll have to solve it, even if we have to stay up all night.”
At that moment, a strange window suddenly appeared on the laptop screen.
—System recovery program detected.
—Would you like assistance restoring your data?
—[YES] / [NO]
Taeho was puzzled as well, but the situation was desperate. There was no other choice.
When he clicked YES, the screen changed completely.
—Dr. Kang Taeho authentication complete.
—Providing the data necessary for your research.
In an instant, not only was all the lost data restored, but it also appeared in a more refined and complete form. It even included analyses more detailed than Taeho remembered.
‘This is more detailed than what I observed. But who knows our research this thoroughly?’
Taeho’s eyes gleamed sharply.