Teterboro Airport, New Jersey.

As soon as I stepped onto the runway, a man in a neat suit approached me with quick and precise steps.

“Mr. Ha Si-heon? Welcome. I’m Andrew, Director of Sales at Gulfstream.”

The man introduced himself briefly, then turned and pointed toward the massive private jet behind him.

“Today, I’ll show you the essence of the G650ER!”

Following the direction of his hand, I saw the private jet standing on the runway with elegant curves.

It looked like a finely sculpted piece of art.

This was the aircraft I would be test flying today.

‘It’s probably time I got one.’

Until now, I had rented private jets for every business trip, but dealing with the company’s management team arguing about whether a private jet was really necessary was getting very annoying.

Well, it’s understandable though…

‘Since company funds are investor funds, it wouldn’t look good if it seemed like I was indulging in luxury.’

But what if I traveled in a privately owned jet?

That would put an end to all the nagging.

More than anything, I could never go back to flying first class again.

Every time I did, I could feel what little life I had left being drained.

So, for all these reasons, I decided to get a private jet of my own.

This was both a reward for surviving a brutal war and a rational investment for the increasingly busy schedule ahead.

“The G650ER was designed with a single mission! To deliver ultimate luxury and productivity at 40,000 feet!”

Andrew’s voice carried a unique confidence and pride, and I understood why the moment I stepped inside.

As I followed him into the cabin, I was greeted with overwhelming luxury.

‘Not bad at all.’

The walls were decorated with rare koa wood, the leather seats were crafted by artisans, and the lighting softly illuminated the space without being glaring.

There wasn’t a single flaw to pick.

But I’m not someone who’s satisfied with just appearances.

“Is this the only lighting option? The brightness is a bit…”

The natural light coming through the windows was fine for now, but at night it might feel a bit dim.

To my question, Andrew clapped his hands and smiled broadly.

“Of course not! The lighting is part of a circadian system that adjusts according to the time zone to minimize jet lag and fatigue. Would you like to see it in action?”

When I nodded, Andrew pressed a button.

The lights changed gently.

First, a soft reddish hue reminiscent of dawn filled the cabin.

It felt like a calm beginning to the day.

The nighttime lighting was a warm, gentle gold, perfect for reading or resting.

The bright and clean daytime setting provided the ideal energy for focused work.

“How is it?”

“Very thoughtful. It’ll be useful for both when I want to forget the time and when I don’t.”

“That aspect was exactly what we had in mind when designing it! We can also fine-tune the settings to your preferences—just say the word! Now, let’s move on this way…”

Past the seating area, we entered the business space.

It featured a six-person mahogany table and a state-of-the-art 43-inch display, allowing for smooth video conferencing even during flights.

“Since you mentioned business as a priority, we prepared the optimized model, but we can also install entertainment features like a personal cocktail bar if you wish.”

“No, that’s fine. Could I see the rest area instead?”

“Of course!”

In the rear, there was a bedroom and a shower room.

The bed was queen-sized.

As I placed my hand on the bedding, Andrew energetically continued his explanation.

“The linens are made from Egyptian cotton blended with cashmere, with a 70:30 ratio to achieve the perfect balance of softness and durability!”

“70:30… not 80:20, then.”

“Excellent question! In fact, 80:20 does offer a softer feel. However, with less cashmere, it compromises thermal regulation. Considering the in-flight environment, we concluded that 70:30 is the optimal ratio!”

“And in summer…”

“Of course, if you’d prefer, we can switch to Egyptian cotton bedding with a thread count over 2,000!”

Hmm. I liked the thoughtful attention to detail.

“How about humidity control?”

“We use ultrasonic humidifiers to maintain an ideal humidity level of 40–50% at all times. That’s a huge improvement compared to the 10–20% of commercial aircraft!”

“And the soundproofing?”

“Of course, it’s designed to minimize noise…”

My questions were endless, but Andrew answered each one perfectly with prepared responses.

Watching his craftsmanship—no, obsession-level attention to detail—made me want the person more than the jet itself.

‘Should I recruit him?’

It would be nice to have a secretary who took care of my environment like this.

“Customizations are also possible, so feel free to request anything!”

“How long will delivery take?”

“Due to high demand, it currently takes about 12 months.”

At that, the smile that had stayed on my lips began to fade.

That meant I wouldn’t get it until next year, even if I ordered now.

“I’m sorry. Orders are backed up.”

Andrew apologized and glanced at his wrist.

“It looks like it’s time for the test flight. When will your party arrive?”

Just like with cars, a test drive is standard before delivery.

So it would be absurd not to check the performance of a $70 million private jet.

However, with limited time left in life, I couldn’t afford to waste it cruising the skies just for a trial flight.

‘Well, I do have work to do and places to go anyway.’

So, I decided to bring two employees along to both test the jet and check the onboard meeting system.

I glanced at the art on my wrist—the hour hand was just shy of 1 o’clock.

“They’ll be here in five minutes.”

#

Exactly five minutes later,

The two employees accompanying me today boarded the jet.

‘Why’s he here again?’

One of them was Gonzalez.

Originally, Dobby was supposed to be on this flight.

“Something urgent came up for Lanton, so I came instead.”

Gonzalez replied casually, but of course, I didn’t believe him.

‘He bribed someone again.’

Well, the analyst was just supposed to come to deliver some materials, so it didn’t really matter.

I turned my gaze to the woman standing next to him.

It was Crane, the newly recruited COO.

“Let’s save the small talk for later and get ready for takeoff.”

As soon as I sat down, the plane began to taxi down the runway.

‘Smooth.’

The acceleration felt like nothing from a commercial flight.

Instead of a jolt pushing my body back, the seat cradled and gently pressed against my back.

The soundproofing was excellent—hardly any engine noise, just a soft, smooth vibration.

Once the plane reached cruising altitude, I turned toward the employees.

“Let’s begin the meeting.”

The first meeting in the sky.

Crane led the session that day.

“The private equity fundraising is going relatively smoothly at the moment.”

Crane was the COO I had personally recruited.

She would be responsible for the day-to-day operations of the fund.

‘She seems very enthusiastic.’

Well, it’s only natural.

Crane used to be no more than an executive director at a firm called Insight Capital.

For someone like her to be given the COO position at Pareto Innovation, the most promising name on Wall Street, it must’ve felt like an incredible opportunity.

Of course, I had my reasons for bringing her on board.

Back in 2023, the year I died, she was already known for her competence.

She had grown Insight Capital’s AUM from just $900 million to over $100 billion.

In particular, she had achieved great success by making long-term investments in AI-related companies.

“Fundraising for the private equity fund is going smoothly, but we’ve been receiving several requests to extend the payment deadline.”

In other words, many investors had said they would join but hadn’t yet sent their money.

They likely expected intense competition and were trying to secure a spot first.

Naturally, my answer to this was firm.

“No. As I’ve said, the deadline is two weeks. Tell them that if they don’t make their payments by then, we’ll move straight on to the next candidates.”

No payment, no seat.

To my firm stance, Crane calmly nodded and continued.

“There’s also been a lot of inquiries about relaxing the redemption conditions. Things like a five- or seven-year hybrid option…”

“That’s also not allowed. It’s strictly ten years.”

This time, Crane’s brow twitched slightly.

“Some institutions have internal regulations that limit early fund investments. Allowing hybrid models might help us attract more capital.”

She wasn’t wrong.

A five- or seven-year redemption option would certainly ease the burden on investors and make fundraising easier.

Still, my answer remained unwavering.

“Ten years. No exceptions. I want to avoid any disruption in the middle due to liquidity concerns.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because that’s the point when the greatest profits can be realized.”

My insistence on a ten-year term had a clear reason.

I knew the trajectory of AI growth.

While it would seem gradual for now, after taking off post-COVID, from 2023 it would begin to scale rapidly and explosively.

If the exit point were set at five or seven years, we’d miss the sweetest part of the curve.

I had to prevent a situation where nervous investors might pull out early just because growth initially appeared mild.

“AI growth won’t be linear—it will follow an exponential curve. If we stick to the ten-year timeline, I believe we can generate over $100 billion in profits from this investment alone.”

“What? A hundred billion?”

Crane’s eyes widened for the first time, breaking her stoic expression.

She was clearly skeptical that such a return was even possible.

So I answered the question she hadn’t voiced.

“Making that possible is my goal.”

“But a hundred billion…”

To be surprised by that? She still had a long way to go.

Still, since she’d be holding a key position in my fund moving forward, I figured it was time to share a bit more of the vision.

“One hundred billion from private equity is just the beginning. My ultimate goal is to earn $250 billion in ten years.”

“What?”

Whistle!

While Crane gasped in shock, Gonzalez suddenly whistled.

When she glared at him, he quickly wiped the smile off his face and shrugged.

“Two hundred fifty billion…”

“That’s my endgame. Just keep that in mind going forward.”

For me, it wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity.

Let’s not forget.

The $50 billion needed for my treatment will be recorded as a “loss” in the eyes of investors.

And who would tolerate that?

My solution: the 80:20 strategy.

Generate 80% of the profits to dazzle the investors, and quietly use the remaining 20% to fund my treatment.

So, the “profit” that Pareto Innovation needs to deliver in ten years isn’t just $50 billion.

It’s $250 billion.

Now the question is—can that really be done?

‘Not by ordinary means.’

In the recent Allergan situation, our fund earned $12 billion.

And that included three major historic events like GameStop, Herbalife, and Valeant all stacked together.

Even then, it only amounted to that.

And realistically—

‘I can’t just pull off things like that every year.’

Even if I lined up every known future event, I’d be lucky to make about $100 billion over ten years.

That’s only half of what I need.

But—

“If we succeed in early-stage investments through private equity, even $200 billion isn’t out of reach.”

Hedge funds invest in companies that are already on a growth trajectory.

Their returns are more stable, but moderate.

In contrast, investing early in startups?

It requires more time, yes—but when a startup succeeds, it can return 100x, even 300x the investment.

Still, Crane looked worried.

“Of course, but early investments come with a high failure rate. Nine out of ten fail.”

“That’s exactly where our edge comes in. We have an algorithm with far better accuracy than anyone else. We can filter out the winners ahead of time.”

Of course, that was a lie.

What actually guided my decisions wasn’t an algorithm—it was my knowledge of the future.

I already had a crystal-clear image of which companies would win the AI race.

No reason to hold back now.

“Let’s look at the list first.”

Before I even finished speaking, Gonzalez pulled out the documents.

It was detailed research on AI companies we might invest in.

I just had to pick out the ones I remembered.

“First, I want to allocate $3 billion to core infrastructure.”

As of January 2015, Nvidia’s stock was under five dollars.

Yet this was the company that would dominate AI’s core infrastructure with its GPU tech.

And that wasn’t all.

There were also Databox and Snowplace, which would later become key providers of cloud-based big data and machine learning tools.

Both would grow into companies worth over $40 billion in ten years, but right now we could acquire them outright for $250 million and $300 million respectively.

“Let’s also allocate $3 billion to AI-healthcare crossover firms.”

Deepgenome, the future leader in genomic analysis, was worth only $500 million.

Relay Pharma, specializing in custom therapeutics based on protein interaction, also cost just $500 million…

This was a chance to scoop up these gems at ultra-discount prices.

If I just held onto them, cashing in wouldn’t be difficult.

However—

‘If only that was my only goal, it would be easy.’

Unfortunately, my true aim wasn’t just to make money.

My ultimate goal was to develop a cure.

To achieve that, there were still mountains to climb.

“The final $1.5 billion is the most important, but…”

Just as I was about to move into the core of the plan, a flight attendant approached and quietly spoke.

“We’ll be landing in Philadelphia shortly.”

I glanced at the elegant watch on my wrist.

Forty minutes had already passed.

“Shall I get off with you?” Crane asked.

If it was something important, she was offering to assist right away.

I shook my head.

“No. Head back to the office and follow up on everything we discussed today. I’ll brief you on the rest in two days.”

“Two days…”

She pondered my words for a moment before cautiously asking,

“Is it something important?”

“You could say that.”

“Philadelphia… Is this about RP Solutions, one of our investment targets?”

She must have memorized all our portfolio companies.

To think she recalled RP Solutions just from hearing “Philadelphia.”

‘Thorough.’

I liked that.

“If it’s related to our investments, then I—”

She tried again to express her enthusiasm and intent to join me.

But once again, I turned her down firmly.

“No. It’s a personal matter.”

#

After getting into the luxury sedan I had pre-booked at the airport, I headed straight for the University of Pennsylvania Hospital.

As the hospital came into view, the buzz I’d felt from AI shopping began to fade.

At the entrance stood someone waiting for me.

It was none other than David.

“It’s been a while since we met at the hospital.”

I had seen him a few times on his trips to New York, but it really had been a long time since we met at the hospital.

Well, it had been months since I last visited.

‘I was busy, sure…’

But honestly, I could say there hadn’t been much need to come.

All I usually did here was meet with clinical trial patients, and Rachel had been sending regular video updates and interviews.

But today was different.

There was a situation that required my personal presence.

And no, it wasn’t a good one.

“Happy New Year… doesn’t quite seem appropriate right now.”

David gave a bitter smile.

His face was marked by deep fatigue.

“You’ve been here three days straight, right?”

“Yes, given the circumstances…”

One of the patients participating in our clinical trial was in critical condition.

David and Jesse had stayed at the hospital for days, monitoring the situation.

“It seems clear now… there’s no response to rapamycin.”

David had been conducting clinical trials on a second treatment: rapamycin.

But one of the patients wasn’t responding and had gone into a severe seizure.

Which meant…

‘They’re most likely the same type as me.’

A patient for whom neither the first nor the second treatment worked.

A patient who would need the third treatment.

At last, someone else with the same type of Castleman disease as me had appeared.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll save them—no matter what.”

I looked David in the eye as I spoke resolutely.

Because saving them might just be the key to saving myself.