“Mr. Gihwan, the data’s been restored.”
“Oh, really? It has. Whew, thank goodness. My mind went completely blank until just a moment ago…”
With a relieved expression, Gihwan checked the presentation materials.
Meanwhile, Taeho quietly went to the restroom and spoke to Rema.
“Rema. Our data was corrupted a little while ago and then suddenly restored. But something’s strange.”
—What seems strange?
“It’s more accurate than the original data, and it’s been organized more systematically. As if someone looked inside my head.”
—I will look for the cause.
—Analyzing…
—There have been traces of unidentified access to the Geumsan Research Institute system for some time now. It was an advanced technique that even the security program could not trace.
“You mean hacking?”
—Because there are no traces, it is difficult to obtain further information.
“Rema, if there’s any suspicious access to the system from now on, let me know immediately.”
—Understood.
***
The main auditorium of the University of Western Brittany.
Some four hundred audience members filled the seats amid a low murmur, and when the moderator’s introduction ended, Taeho walked up to the podium. Whispers could be heard here and there.
They were curious gazes directed at a young Asian researcher.
As Taeho began his greeting calmly, the auditorium fell silent.
“Hello. I am Kang Taeho of Korea’s Geumsan Research Institute. Today, I will be speaking about the immunomodulatory properties of kelp extract from Korea’s East Sea, as well as its potential for clinical application.”
The first slide.
A photograph appeared of a kelp forest swaying in the waves against the backdrop of an indigo sea.
“The cold, clean currents of the East Sea create an environment in which kelp accumulates unique bioactive substances. In particular, fucoidan and laminarin-type polysaccharides accumulate at concentrations more than three times higher than in ordinary kelp. This is the result of a natural defense mechanism developed by kelp to survive in the extreme environment of winter water temperatures below four degrees Celsius.”
Taeho advanced the slide and pointed to a molecular structure diagram.
“These special polysaccharides go beyond simple anti-inflammatory action and reorganize the immune cells’ signaling system itself. They lower the activation threshold of T-cell receptors to induce a faster immune response, while at the same time enhancing the function of regulatory T cells to suppress excessive inflammatory responses, showing a dual effect.”
Several researchers in the audience began nodding and taking notes.
“What is even more interesting is that these substances can cross the blood-brain barrier. This opens up new possibilities for treating neuroinflammatory diseases, where existing immunomodulators have shown limitations because they cannot access the central nervous system.”
Some people took up pens and wrote in their notebooks, while others continuously photographed the slides with their phones.
In the back, a man sitting in the dark shadows drew Taeho’s attention. He did not seem all that different from the rest of the audience, yet for some reason he bothered him.
‘What is it?’
Taeho moved on to the slide on patient treatment cases.
“In the case of a forty-seven-year-old fisherman who suffered cerebral edema and microvascular damage from decompression sickness, a recovery process that would have taken more than seventy-two hours with conventional steroid treatment returned completely to normal in just eighteen hours after administration of the purified kelp extract from the East Sea. More importantly, no side effects were observed whatsoever.”
Professor Johnson of Harvard Medical School raised his hand.
“Dr. Kang, that is truly a remarkable result. However, how much clinical data have you accumulated beyond a single case?”
“Good question. To date, in treatments involving sixty-seven patients, we have recorded a complete recovery rate of 94.8 percent. In particular, all twenty-three patients with autoimmune diseases that had not improved with existing treatments were completely cured.”
The auditorium stirred. Professor Yamada’s expression was growing increasingly stiff.
Taeho’s gaze naturally shifted toward the back. The man who had stood out since earlier had taken out a palm-sized device and was recording something.
‘Why does he bother me so much?’
Taeho drew in a deep breath and organized his final statement.
“In conclusion, we have confirmed that East Sea kelp extract regulates acute-phase inflammatory responses and promotes recovery mechanisms at the microvascular level.”
Applause spread like a wave. At the same time, several hands went up.
Dr. Müller from Germany asked the first question.
“Dr. Kang, how did you control for confounding variables? In particular, factors such as the patients’ dietary habits or underlying diseases.”
“We used both medical history-based matching and propensity score analysis. The detailed statistical model can be found in Appendix B.”
A French researcher on the right raised his hand.
“How did you exclude the possibility of a placebo effect?”
“In a preliminary study with a placebo control group, objective indicators such as CRP, D-dimer, and NETs showed significant differentiation. These were results separate from changes in symptoms perceived by the patients.”
Professor Yamada of Japan leaned forward.
“Are you interested in international joint research?”
“Of course. Marine environments with different currents, water temperatures, and mineral compositions produce different extract characteristics. We will need to combine data from the East Sea, the Kuroshio Current, and even the Brittany coast to see the whole picture.”
After pausing briefly for breath, Taeho scanned the back and said,
“The person who has been listening so intently since earlier… the gentleman in the black jacket at the back. If you have any opinions or questions, I’d be happy to hear them.”
When Taeho singled the man out directly, he stood from his seat and headed for the aisle before the microphone could even be passed to him. The door opened and closed quietly.
‘What is that? That’s even more suspicious.’
Taeho’s brow furrowed slightly.
When the Q&A wrapped up, applause broke out once more. Researchers approached from both sides. Handshakes, exchanges of business cards, and brief promises followed.
Gihwan approached with an emotional expression.
“Director, it was a huge success!”
“You worked hard too, Mr. Gihwan.”
Taeho replied with a smile, but his gaze kept drifting toward the back of the auditorium.
Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated. A preview message appeared on the screen.
—It was a good presentation.
The sender was listed as no caller ID.
Taeho turned off the screen as if it were nothing and looked around. The conference hall still seemed lively and peaceful.
“Director, are you all right? Your expression…”
Gihwan asked worriedly.
“I’m fine. Let’s move to the next session.”
Taeho answered briefly and gathered up the laptop beside the podium. Even as he greeted people with a smile, his eyes swept once more over the shadows of the audience seats.
He was certain someone was watching him.
***
The special banquet hall of the Brest Maritime Museum was like an underwater palace. Beneath an antique arched ceiling, marine biologists and medical professionals from around the world were enjoying the evening banquet. With a massive whale skeleton model looking down on them, languages from various countries mingled in a lively hum.
Seong Gihwan held a glass of champagne and said with a bright smile,
“Director, after today’s presentation, more than thirty people exchanged business cards with us. Especially when the head of the Novartis research institute from Switzerland came in person and proposed a technology transfer—honestly, whew, I don’t even know what to say. I was shaking…”
Taeho smiled and nodded. The presentation that afternoon had created a far greater response than he had expected.
Just then, Dr. Li from the Singapore Institute of Marine Research approached.
“Dr. Kang! That was a truly impressive presentation.”
“Thank you, Dr. Li.”
“Our institute would like to propose joint research. I think it would be excellent to combine Southeast Asia’s marine biological resources with your research.”
As Dr. Li explained enthusiastically, Colonel Johnson from the U.S. Navy Medical Center also joined them.
“Excuse me, Dr. Kang. The U.S. military would also like to request cooperation regarding your marine medicine technology. In particular, I have a few questions about treating decompression sickness in divers.”
Taeho felt overwhelmed for a moment. With this presentation, Korea’s Geumsan Research Institute would be remembered in the global oceanographic community as a small but formidable research institute. Practical contracts and results were important, but reputation would also be a great help in future activities.
“It is difficult to give you an answer right away, but I will review it carefully.”
When Taeho replied politely, Gihwan, standing beside him, organized the business cards with a proud expression.
The banquet began in earnest. The local chef proudly introduced the dishes.
“Mesdames et Messieurs, tonight’s main course is fresh seafood from the Brittany coast, caught just yesterday. In particular, these oysters and mussels are premium ingredients gathered directly from the deep sea. You will be able to experience the unique flavor of Brittany.”
Waiters began serving the carefully prepared seafood dishes to each table. Plates beautifully arranged with large oysters, plump mussels, and various shellfish were set down.
“Wow, this looks really delicious.”
Seong Gihwan exclaimed in admiration as he picked up his fork.
The moment Taeho sat down and looked down at his plate, he felt something strange.
The seafood looked appetizing on the surface, but somehow it gave him an uneasy feeling.
Taeho activated Bio Vision.
As he looked into the seafood on the plate, he detected a color he had never seen before.
A peculiar biological signal that could not be found in ordinary seafood.
‘What is this?’
Taeho’s expression hardened.
When he observed it more closely with Bio Vision, an unknown protein structure appeared within the seafood tissue. It clearly did not seem normal.
Taeho grabbed Gihwan’s arm just as he was about to put a large oyster into his mouth.
“Mr. Gihwan, don’t eat that.”
“What? Why not?”
“Something feels off.”
“What do you mean, off?”
Seong Gihwan asked, puzzled. Everyone at the surrounding tables was happily eating.
“It’s not every day we get a chance to try food like this…”
But Gihwan realized Taeho’s expression was not normal. It was the first time he had seen the usually calm Taeho show such wariness.
“Is something really wrong?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I don’t know exactly what it is either, but… I don’t think we should eat it.”
At Taeho’s voice, filled with conviction, Gihwan also put down his fork.
“Then let’s eat something else.”
The two of them did not touch the main seafood dish and made do for dinner with only bread, salad, and the other side dishes.
Gihwan smacked his lips regretfully, but since he had never lost out by listening to Taeho until now, he followed without objecting.
Meanwhile, the people around them praised the seafood dishes and ate and drank to their hearts’ content.
“Dr. Kang, these oysters are fantastic! Aren’t you having any?”
Dr. Müller from Germany said cheerfully from the next table.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little full.”
Taeho replied politely, but unease grew inside him. The strange color Bio Vision had shown him continued to linger in his mind.
‘Surely there isn’t really a problem, is there?’
Even after the banquet ended and people returned to their hotels one by one, Taeho could not shake off his anxiety.
At 3:17 a.m. the next day.
A terrible scream rang through the fourth-floor corridor of the Hotel Le Continental Brest.
“Help! Help me! (Hilfe! Hilfe mir!)”
It was a desperate cry for help in German.
Taeho shot up from his bed. The sound was coming from the room right next door.
“What’s going on?”
Gihwan also woke up, bewildered.
Taeho hurriedly put on clothes and opened the door. Several guests had already come out into the hallway.
A commotion was taking place in front of Room 401.