When the daylight vanished and night finally swallowed the city, the square concrete building on the outskirts of Seimar cast a heavy shadow beneath the cold silver of the moon.
At four in the morning the district looked dead, yet the security detail continued its routine. Men in uniform marched along the perimeter with military precision. Under the dim, diluted lamps, the building seemed less a research facility and more a tomb — something buried alive.
A black car rolled to a stop before the main gate, almost silent.
Four guards moved toward it in unison. From within stepped a man — tall, poised, with a straight back and a face carved in frost. His chestnut hair gleamed bronze under the moonlight; his gaze was sharp, metallic. Ryu Seonyeon.
He swept his eyes over the guards as if assessing irrelevant machinery and said evenly, without inflection:
— Move.
They obeyed instantly. The order from above had been clear: "Whatever he does — keep protocol. Do not provoke. Accept him."
Another man emerged from the car — tall, broad-shouldered, with the presence of a loaded weapon. His dark gaze alone made the guards shift unconsciously into a defensive stance.
— He's my escort, — Seonyeon said. — Tell your master he's invited as well.
The commander muttered into his radio. A moment later a sharp, muffled reply came through:
— Let them through. Immediately!
The guards bowed awkwardly and cleared the way.
— Forgive us, sir.
Seonyeon said nothing. In his earpiece came a soft crackle — Lo Dan's voice.
"We see you. Cameras stable. Recording solid."
He gave a barely perceptible nod.
— Lead us, — he ordered the guard.
The iron door groaned open, swallowing them inside.
The first thing that struck them was the sterility — the too perfect whiteness of the corridors, the reek of disinfectant and metal.
Before long, a short man with square moustache and a lab coat hurried toward them.
— Mr. Ryu Seonyeon, — he said, bowing low. — By the chairman's order, I will escort you below. He awaits you in the lower sector.
It was Director Kim Sodan — once a researcher at Nebra Labs. His back was now bent, his eyes darting nervously, yet beneath that submissive mask burned an unsettling excitement. He never lifted his gaze, but each time Seonyeon turned away, the man's eyes clung to him, hungry — almost reverent.
Seonyeon exhaled.
— Are they all deranged fanatics here?
He glanced at Kang Jihan — who appeared calm, though his fingers twitched, clenching and unclenching. This place echoed too many memories.
Their eyes met. You all right?
Yes, Jihan mouthed.
The meeting place was not an office, nor a lab. It was Mateo's private residence.
He remembered the conversation:
"What will I see in your home?"
"Something you'll never see anywhere else," Mateo had said. "My most important creation."
Now Seonyeon understood that it hadn't been a metaphor.
Kim Sodan led them through narrow corridors until they stopped before a blank concrete wall.
— The main entrance is here.
A second later, the smooth surface split open, revealing a passage.
Beyond it stretched another world — shining white marble, soft chandelier light, old paintings, rows of living plants. The place looked less like a madman's den than a royal gallery.
— Paradise underground, — Seonyeon murmured. — He lives like a god.
Lo Dan whispered through the mic:
"Show as much as possible. We're mapping the layout."
Seonyeon strolled slowly through the hall, feigning admiration.
— Impressive, — he said aloud.
Kim Sodan smiled faintly.
— The chairman appreciates beauty. Allow me to take you to the lower level.
— Not so fast, — Seonyeon stopped him. — How many cameras are here?
— Around two hundred on both floors. None in the basement.
Seonyeon's eyes narrowed.
— So the master is watching us right now?
— I… think so, — Sodan stammered.
— Interesting, — Seonyeon murmured. — Then why doesn't he come out himself? Watching like a beast over bait?
No answer. They moved on. The mansion had no windows — only vents whispered of the world above.
At last Sodan swiped an ID card to summon the elevator, but Seonyeon stopped him.
— No elevators. We go down by stairs.
Sodan hesitated, then nodded obediently. The staircase lay behind a thick metal door that opened with the same card. When the lock clicked, a chill draft breathed out.
Dim blue light. The scent of ethanol. Machines thrummed low. The air was so clean it felt poisonous. Seonyeon thought: Even the purity here kills.
— Welcome, — came a voice from the dark.
Mateo appeared as if materializing from the shadows — dressed in black, skin pale and smooth. His smile was almost kind.
— I'm delighted you came, Mr. Ryu Seonyeon. You can't imagine how long I've waited.
He spoke gently, politely — and that made it worse.
— Director, you may go, — he said over his shoulder.
Sodan's face lit with pride. At that moment, Jihan "accidentally" bumped him; the man stumbled, and Seonyeon caught him — slipping a hand into his coat pocket and palming the access card. Their eyes met.
Got it.
Perfect.
— Careful, old man, — Seonyeon smirked. — Dreaming is dangerous.
Flushed, Sodan hurried upstairs.
The door shut, leaving only three.
— So, — Mateo said, straightening. — Would you like to see a miracle?
He clicked a remote. The lamps flared to life.
And they saw.
Rows of cylinders — transparent, gleaming like glass. Inside each one, a body. Not mannequins. People.
Suspended in murky green liquid, eyes closed, skin white as salt. Tiny air bubbles rose from their mouths.
Seonyeon's stomach turned. Beside him, Jihan's jaw clenched so hard blood welled on his lip.
— You did this? — Seonyeon asked quietly.
— Of course. — Mateo spoke as if boasting about art. — Isn't this what you dreamed of? Now you see how a new era is born.
He placed a hand lovingly on the glass of one cylinder.
— This isn't death. It's transformation. Through these people, humanity will gain strength.
Jihan trembled. The veins on his neck bulged.
— You call that pride? You kill for amusement.
Mateo laughed softly.
— I kill no one. They all agreed. We rescue them from poverty — give them meaning. Isn't that noble?
A crack — Jihan's fist clenched until bone popped.
Seonyeon caught his arm, restraining him from charging forward.
— Everything you say is a lie, — he said evenly.
— You're angry because you don't understand, — Mateo replied. — From them we've created medicines that prolong the lives of the world's most important people. We deserve a Nobel Prize, not condemnation.
Seonyeon looked at him and thought only one word: monster.
— Enough, — he said flatly. — Bring out the one above you. Im Chinthe.
For the first time, Mateo's smile wavered.
— Above me? — he repeated softly. — There's no one above me.
— So he's dead? — Jihan asked.
— No. He's simply… unnecessary.
— Make him come out, — Seonyeon demanded.
— Speak to me, — Mateo said gently. — It's the same thing.
— Are you his successor, or his son? — Seonyeon sneered.
Mateo suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
— Son of Im Chinthe? Me? How absurd!
He wiped his eyes, still laughing — then his tone snapped cold.
— I'm just like your Jihan.
Silence.
— What? — Jihan rasped.
— I was bought by Im Chinthe too. Experimental stock. But I survived. — His eyes glinted. — I became perfect. A victor.
— If that were true, — Jihan said hoarsely, — you wouldn't have done all this.
— Why not? — Mateo stepped closer. — Because I'm stronger. Because I lived — while the rest rotted.
He said it with pride, as if virtue.
— I'm not on the same level as a failure like you — trembling, broken escapee.
He moved closer; Seonyeon blocked him with a calm, lethal grace.
— One more step and I'll tear your tongue out, — he said softly.
— Mr. Seonyeon, — Mateo hissed, — why protect him? He's garbage. I can give you everything — power, strength, eternity.
Seonyeon looked at him as if staring into a void — said nothing.
That silence seemed to unhinge Mateo. He spun, slamming his palm onto a console. The machines roared to life. The floor vibrated. Cylinders slid aside, and with a thunderous hiss a new chamber rose from below — taller than the rest, filled with crimson liquid. The light inside pulsed like something alive.
— Mr. Seonyeon, — Mateo said almost reverently, — allow me to present the one you wanted to meet. Im Chinthe.
— What? — Jihan breathed.
And in the red glass — something moved.