The Glance Across the Room
Inside the research lab at the Life Sciences Building during the seminar, Ha Yul leaned against the edge of the desk and looked at the monitor again. What had seemed like mere hypotheses within the lab moments ago now coalesced into something far more concrete: someone was genuinely exploiting the city’s underbelly, conducting experiments on people, and a group that either believed in or weaponized such cults truly existed.
Chae-won slowly closed several overlapping windows on the laptop screen, as if tidying them away, then lifted her gaze slightly and spoke, as though the moment felt natural for the conversation to continue. “Monster research can be divided into three broad branches. They’re not entirely separate domains—they overlap and feed into one another—but each has a distinct focus that shapes its character. First, the Moorim Agency side is fundamentally about ‘hunting.’ They seal off the scene, apply countermeasures, classify the threat level, then decide whether to capture or eliminate based on the situation. Their priority is nighttime control and minimizing casualties. In short, they concentrate on neutralizing the immediate threat right in front of them.”
Chae-won paused briefly, as if catching her breath, then continued smoothly. “Next comes the research institutes. They focus on dissecting and analyzing incidents after the fact—examining corpses, tissues, blood reactions, regeneration processes, the stages of mutation, and even how artificial blood crystals function if present. Their goal is to reconstruct past events as accurately as possible.”
Her explanation grew clearer. “And finally, the corporate side. This is where the direction diverges the most. The Moorim Agency hunts, the institutes dissect, but corporations don’t stop there—they aim to turn those results into something usable. That includes mutation suppressants, predictive models for biological responses, city-wide quarantine systems, surveillance infrastructure, and more.”
Su-min jumped in before Chae-won had even finished, her lips curving upward. “The top player in applied research is Garam Bio. No other company converts the results of capturing and analyzing mutants into profitable products as quickly as they do.”
Though she spoke playfully, the weight behind her words was unmistakable. Chae-won nodded and picked up the thread. “That’s right. Most of the major funding flowing into mutant organism research these days comes through Garam Bio’s support.”
“Moorim Agency joint projects, urban quarantine initiatives, suppressant development, even regeneration accelerators. It’s the most neatly packaged monster industry of this era.”
“Judging by their expansion speed and investment scale, Garam Bio is clearly the most aggressive. They’re not just conducting research—they’re one of the few companies that takes results straight to market as products.”
Ha Yul repeated the name silently in her mind. Garam Bio. The more she heard, the more suspicious the company seemed. Then Su-min suddenly lifted her head, as if remembering something. “Oh, right.”
Her eyes sparkled as she looked at Chae-won. “There’s a seminar today, isn’t there?”
Chae-won gave a short nod. “A corporate collaboration seminar is being held at the Life Sciences Building today. Garam Bio’s research team is coming in person. It’s like the annual industry-academia cooperation presentations, but this time their CEO is attending as well.”
Su-min’s interest was immediately piqued. “Want to go see who’s bankrolling mutant organism research?”
There was no reason to refuse. Ha Yul wasn’t accustomed to corporate seminars and normally wouldn’t have considered attending, but today felt different. The three of them left the lab.
The hallway was still filled with daytime brightness and ambient noise, yet to Ha Yul it felt subtly altered. As she walked through the middle of it, she found herself scanning her surroundings the way she did when moving through nighttime scenes. Danger wasn’t confined to neon-lit alleys—blood, mutation, and the tangled interests of corporations and the state flowed quietly even inside these bright buildings.
The banner outside the seminar hall displayed Garam Bio’s logo alongside the title: “The Future of Urban Mutant Organism Management: Data-Driven Response and Stabilization Technology.”
Inside, there were more people than expected. Professors and researchers sat toward the front, graduate and undergraduate students in the middle, and external observers along with several suited figures toward the back. The screen cycled through maps of Seoul, thermal images, and biological response graphs. True to a corporate seminar, the lighting was appropriately bright, the audio crisp, and the stage design sleek. Despite the subject of monsters and mutations, it resembled a medical technology exhibition or investment briefing.
Chae-won and Su-min naturally took seats in the middle rows toward the rear. Ha Yul sat between them. The back offered a clear view of the presenter, the audience’s reactions, the exits, and the windows—all of which stood out sharply to her.
Once the seminar began, presentation slides appeared on the screen in sequence: analysis of urban mutant organism movement patterns, research on stabilization drugs, predictive systems based on biological response data. The first few slides were unremarkable—urban safety, early detection, public-private cooperation, citizen protection. Yet Ha Yul gradually felt an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. The movement of dots on the map, temperature and humidity readings, heat sources, movement routes passing through underground areas… they bore too close a resemblance to the analysis screens Chae-won had pulled up in the lab earlier. The only difference was scale.
Ha Yul’s gaze remained fixed on the screen. Chae-won whispered very softly, “Similar, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
Su-min, arms crossed, muttered, “Just a much more expensive version, I suppose.”
The presentation continued. Ha Yul watched, her thoughts flowing naturally: prediction of potential mutant organism occurrence zones, shortening reaction time for suppressant administration, high-risk group behavioral modeling, real-time biological response data collection. Every sentence on the screen seemed designed to make the city safer, yet to Ha Yul they read just as easily in another direction. Prediction could be used for guidance, stabilization for control, behavioral modeling for domination.
Then the atmosphere in the hall shifted. Near the front entrance, people subtly adjusted their postures. Whispers died down, and gazes turned in one direction. Someone important had arrived. Soon an announcement signaled a change in presenter, and a name appeared at the bottom of the screen alongside the next slide.
Lee Garam. CEO of Garam Bio.
Ha Yul lifted her head. Lee Garam walked slowly toward the podium. She was the kind of person whose mere presence altered the mood around her. Her long, reddish-brown wavy hair, carrying a subtle red sheen, cascaded over her shoulders. Her sharply defined eyes held attention even without a smile. Her tailored women’s suit fit her perfectly, and beneath the well-cut jacket, a tight H-line skirt accentuated her long, smooth silhouette. Above all, her physique was overwhelming—not merely voluptuous, but radiating the imposing presence of a corporate CEO. Two researchers, several suited attendants, and a few bodyguards who appeared to be martial artists maintained a natural distance as they followed her.
Whispers spread quickly among the students. “That’s her?” “It really is Lee Garam.” “Wow, she looks even more intense in person.”
Ha Yul didn’t need to hear the words; the atmosphere alone told her everything. Lee Garam was no ordinary businesswoman. She stepped onto the stage. The previous presenters seemed slightly more tense in her presence, yet the entire event gained a more official weight simply because she was there.
She began her presentation. The content grew even more corporate: mutant organism management technology, automation of urban quarantine systems, high-risk detection algorithms. Everything sounded plausible—rational, modern, competent. And that made it all the more concerning. Sometimes a report scrubbed clean of the scent of blood was more dangerous than the blood-soaked field itself.
Then one sentence during the presentation made her pause. “Some mutants can have their behavioral patterns adjusted through external stimuli.”
Ha Yul’s eyes flickered. Not hunting, but movement. Not rampage, but directed approach. Search or command. The corporate presentation stated this possibility as casually as if it were already established fact. Chae-won beside her also subtly straightened her posture. Su-min narrowed her eyes and stared at the screen. The three of them said nothing, yet each knew the others had caught the same line.
The seminar lasted nearly an hour. During the Q&A, questions arose about research funding, data access rights, the scope of Moorim Agency cooperation, and student internships. Lee Garam remained unshaken even when fielding questions. Her answers were crisp, and any dangerous phrasing was deftly sidestepped.
When the presentation ended, people began to rise. The sounds of chairs scraping, bags being gathered, students trying to photograph the slides, and professors and researchers surging toward the front all moved at once. The three of them were also standing when Lee Garam’s gaze swept across the back of the hall. At first it seemed like a general scan of the audience, but then it paused for the briefest moment at one particular spot.
Kang Hayul.
The distance between them was considerable, and the crowd remained dense, yet Ha Yul felt it clearly. It hadn’t been a casual glance. Lee Garam was looking at her in a way distinct from how she regarded ordinary martial artists—as though she were assessing something. Just like how Ha Yul, having lived as a hunter, could read people’s scents, the woman on the other side wore an expression that suggested she was calculating something as well.
But it lasted only an instant. Truly, that was all. Lee Garam withdrew her gaze without a word and left the seminar hall with her entourage. Yet that fleeting moment lingered strangely in Ha Yul’s mind.