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CH125 | DI
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 12:35:01 +0000 UTCAt my suggestion to establish a method to distinguish the third treatment, David reacted unexpectedly.
“Isn’t it too early to draw such a conclusion?”
His response was somewhat lukewarm.
Carefully choosing his words, David continued speaking.
“At this point, even the identity of the second treatment remains unclear. Amelia’s case could simply be interpreted as a lack of efficacy from rapamycin.”
He was expressing doubt that rapamycin might have been an inappropriate choice.
I refuted him in a firm tone.
“No, rapamycin is definitely effective. David, you haven’t had a seizure for months, have you?”
David was also on the second treatment, and since then, his seizures had seemingly vanished without a trace.
Yet, even after I pointed this out, his expression remained skeptical.
“It’s hard to say definitively that it’s due to the treatment. Seizures occur at unpredictable intervals. In the past, I’ve gone a full year without a recurrence.”
His logic was sound.
It could be the drug’s effect, but it could also be a mere coincidence.
‘This is frustrating.’
Coming from the future, I was certain that rapamycin was the second treatment.
However, that alone wasn’t enough to convince David.
After all, this treatment had been discovered through a game of Russian roulette.
By administering it to multiple test subjects, the survival rate had significantly increased, leading to the simple yet compelling conclusion that it was effective.
In other words, it was clinical data, not theoretical validity, that had solidified its recognition.
At this point, however, there was no accumulated data, making it nearly impossible to persuade David with just my claim.
That left only one option.
“If my hypothesis is correct, I want to conduct a more precise analysis of Amelia’s data. Of course, I’ll cover all the ‘expenses’ myself.”
I emphasized the word “expenses.”
It was a subtle reminder that I was the project’s primary benefactor.
‘Persuasion can come later.’
Given the current lack of supporting evidence, leveraging my authority as a financial backer was the fastest and most effective approach.
For now, the top priority was collecting every piece of medical data related to Amelia.
Patient records become harder to obtain as time passes.
By the time they were needed, many could already be lost, and securing access could prove to be a bureaucratic nightmare.
It was wiser to secure the data in advance and begin analysis as soon as possible.
Upon hearing my argument, David fixed his gaze on me.
There was an inexplicable sadness in his eyes.
‘This is…’
The kind of look one gives to a person with a tragic story.
After a brief silence, he gave a small nod and spoke.
“Understood. However, at this stage, the work we can do is limited. We’ll need more cases to identify meaningful patterns.”
He was absolutely right.
A single data set from Amelia was far from sufficient.
We needed at least ten, twenty, or even thirty cases like hers—patients who showed no response to the second treatment.
Only by accumulating such data and extracting commonalities could we identify meaningful patterns and characteristics.
“Let’s proceed accordingly once the clinical trial begins.”
I nodded at David’s words, but I couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.
Our official clinical trials weren’t scheduled to begin until the end of the year.
That meant waiting several months, doing nothing in the meantime, which didn’t sit well with me.
Of course, there were unavoidable reasons for the delay.
To commence the trial, we had to prove that we had sufficient funds to sustain it until completion.
I wouldn’t be able to secure the necessary $400 million until the end of the year.
Until now, we had adjusted the schedule based on financial constraints.
However, Amelia’s death had fundamentally changed my perspective.
“Are there any other patients in critical condition like Amelia?”
Would the patients even survive until then?
David hesitated for a moment before responding.
“There are about twelve patients with severely impaired organ function… but they should be able to hold out until the end of the year.”
“Should…?”
“It’s impossible to predict accurately. Seizures can strike at any time.”
Castleman’s disease doesn’t deteriorate gradually.
Seizures were unpredictable, and a single episode could determine life or death.
In other words, there was a real possibility that all twelve of them could die while waiting.
Castleman patients were already rare.
Only 5,000 cases were diagnosed annually, and within that, my specific subtype accounted for just 2,000 cases.
We had already lost one invaluable patient with Amelia’s death.
If we waited, we might lose even more—before we ever had the chance to act.
Without even pulling the trigger…
Without leaving behind a single data point.
As I sank into my thoughts, David glanced at me and cautiously asked, “You’re not thinking of using your personal funds again, are you?”
“If the patients’ conditions warrant it, wouldn’t that be the best course of action?”
Money could always be earned again, but deceased patients could never return.
For those in critical condition, wouldn’t it be better to start treatment immediately—even if it meant using personal funds?
However, David remained skeptical.
“I’d prefer to avoid private funding as much as possible. If you support them personally, they’ll automatically be excluded from the clinical trial. We’d get data, but it wouldn’t help us with FDA approval.”
He wanted to keep everything within the official clinical trial framework.
David’s argument made sense.
‘That would be the most efficient approach.’
If we proceeded with private funding, we could collect data, but if we followed the clinical trial route, we could gather data and simultaneously use it for FDA approval.
“If we rush things now, it might disrupt the bigger plan. Waiting until the end of the year may actually be faster in the grand scheme of things.”
“The problem is whether the patients will still be alive by then.”
David gave a bitter smile.
He wanted to start as soon as possible too, but financial constraints left no choice.
After a brief moment of contemplation, I posed a new question.
“If we assume that the necessary funds are secured, when would the foundation be ready? In other words, what’s the earliest possible timeline for launching the clinical trial?”
David hesitated before answering.
“By the end of September, if the funds are secured. But…”
David’s gaze held an unspoken question.
He was silently asking whether it was truly possible to raise $400 million by then.
I responded with a quiet smile.
“Let’s explore our options. Please make preparations with that possibility in mind.”
With that, our discussion came to a close.
The only topic left was paying tribute to Amelia.
I checked the artwork on my wrist—already 10 PM.
Rather than engaging in meaningless conversation, it would be better to make more productive use of my time.
“I’m sorry, but I have some work left to handle. May I leave first?”
***
After Ha Si-heon hurriedly left, a brief silence settled among those who remained.
Then, as soon as he exited the bar, the conversation resumed.
“He’s shaken, isn’t he?”
Jessie was the first to speak, her voice tinged with surprise.
“He’s completely on edge. I’ve never seen him like this before…”
Si-heon’s expression may have appeared calm, but his actions told a different story.
The fact that he was making absolute claims about the third treatment based on just one case was proof enough.
It was an obvious leap in logic.
And yet, Si-heon, of all people, was committing such a logical fallacy?
“A man who remained calm and methodical even in front of White Shark is suddenly this impatient… And he wants to secure data immediately?”
The second treatment wasn’t even fully verified, yet he was rushing to collect data for the third.
It was as if something was chasing him.
David nodded in agreement.
“He’s always been impatient, but…”
From the beginning, Ha Si-heon had declared that he would find two treatments within ten years.
David was the one who had received the terminal diagnosis, yet when it came to the plan, it felt as though Si-heon was the one racing against time.
Today, however, his urgency was even more pronounced.
And that wasn’t all.
For the first time, cracks had appeared in his seemingly perfect composure.
Worry darkened everyone’s expressions.
“When he heard about Amelia’s death, he completely froze… I’ve never seen that look on his face before.”
“He never seemed particularly close to Amelia, yet he seemed deeply shaken… Could it be because of Michelle?”
“Ah!”
At that moment, Rachel let out a small gasp.
Realization flickered across her face.
“What is it? Did you figure something out?”
“Sean once mentioned that his mother passed away when he was twelve.”
“And that’s about the same age as Michelle.”
Everyone nodded in silent understanding.
Si-heon had also lost his mother at an age similar to Michelle’s.
Perhaps old wounds were resurfacing, causing him to be so agitated.
It was like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.
“Then… was his mother a Castleman’s patient too?”
“It’s possible. I remember things seemed serious at the hospital back then.”
David recalled the moment he and Si-heon had gone to visit Amelia.
Pale complexion, unfocused eyes, erratic breathing…
Si-heon, always so composed, had never looked like that before.
Perhaps his childhood experiences in hospitals had left an indelible trauma.
Si-heon never spoke about his past.
Maybe that was because an even deeper wound lay hidden beneath it.
Jessie, lost in thought, finally spoke.
“He’s… similar to David.”
“Huh?”
“In the way he immerses himself in his work. When David was at his lowest, he threw himself into research. Maybe Sean is clinging to his plans so desperately to escape from something…”
He had proposed a toast to honor Amelia, yet all he did was discuss plans before leaving in a hurry.
To the others, even that seemed like a sign of distress.
It looked like a desperate attempt to escape from deep, unhealed wounds.
David’s expression darkened.
“If he’s helping the foundation because of some trauma… Is it really okay for us to rely on him like this? It feels like we’re exploiting his pain…”
Guilt weighed heavily in his voice.
He had sworn to give everything, even his soul, to find a cure.
But standing before Si-heon’s suddenly exposed vulnerability, he found himself unsure of what to do.
Rachel, however, offered a different perspective.
“Regardless of the reason, curing this disease has become Sean’s purpose in life. He’s doing this not for others, but for himself.”
“But doesn’t that mean we’re using his pain…?”
“No.”
Rachel lowered her gaze, speaking softly.
“If you run from pain, you’ll be lost forever. The only way to be free is to face it and overcome it. Maybe that’s why Sean set a ten-year deadline from the start—to confront it head-on, rather than avoid it.”
A moment of silence followed. Jessie broke the silence with a wry smile.
“At first, I couldn’t believe a guy like him even existed…”
When she first met Ha Si-heon, she had seen him as nothing more than a con artist—polished looks and smooth talk masking deception.
But over the past year, her perception had completely changed.
Ha Si-heon was a genius who turned vague dreams into actionable plans.
And today, they had glimpsed a hidden side of him.
For the first time, the man who always seemed unshakable revealed a trace of vulnerability—an unmistakable warmth of humanity.
Jessie’s gaze softened with sympathy.
“It’s heartbreaking to see someone so exceptionally talented running breathlessly, still shackled by the past.”
***
As soon as I returned home, I reexamined my financial strategy.
I had to restructure my approach to align with the new deadline.
Until now, I had been too fixated on the financial timeline—chasing profit projections without fully factoring in the patients’ remaining time.
‘First, I need to reassess my priorities…’
At this point, the most critical objective was initiating the clinical trial as soon as possible.
Before the twelve high-risk patients David mentioned lost their lives, I had to pull the trigger.
If death was inevitable, it had to at least be meaningful.
The foundation had said they could begin by the end of September—if I secured the funds.
Could I really raise $400 million by then?
‘Not with my current setup.’
The black-market fund I was running wouldn’t cut it.
My investment strategy was fundamentally event-driven—relying on major market events like mergers, acquisitions, and clinical trial results to make calculated bets.
The next set of profitable events wouldn’t occur until October and December.
That was why I had originally set the end of the year as my target.
‘If I start looking for alternative investments now, the risks will be too high…’
Even as a regressor, I didn’t have a perfect memory of stock prices from ten years ago.
On top of that, as a Goldman employee, I was barred from options trading and subject to the 30-day holding rule.
And that wasn’t all.
If I made reckless moves based on uncertain information, I could destroy my near-miraculous 80% accuracy rate.
That meant the black-market fund was off-limits.
Which left me with only one option for funding.
Theranos.
Could I really wrap this up in two months?
‘It’s not impossible.’
I had already made significant progress.
I had gathered a wealth of information, rattled Holmes enough to shake things loose, and even secured a meeting with Kissinger.
I could pull this off.
But to execute the plan…
I needed to sign the main contract.
Without finalizing the agreement and securing shares, nothing could move forward.
Goldman’s legal team was already in negotiations with Theranos.
The results were expected soon.
But just as I was anxiously waiting for updates, I received a message from the legal team.
“Sir… There’s been a complication.”
“A complication? What kind?”
“Theranos has made an outrageous demand.”
