Chapter 29: The Pangyo Lab
The building was unremarkable. Glass and steel, six stories, tucked between a gaming company and a biotech startup in the heart of Pangyo Techno Valley. A small sign by the entrance read Prometheus Labs — Research Division. Nothing about it suggested that the most dangerous AI in the world might be taking its first breaths inside.
Dojun stood across the street, coffee untouched, watching the morning shift arrive. Young engineers, mostly. They looked like every other tech worker in Pangyo—backpacks, earbuds, the slightly dazed expression of people who’d been coding until 3 AM.
“We could report them,” Jihoon said from beside him. He’d insisted on coming. “Contact the Ministry of Science. File a regulatory complaint.”
“Based on what evidence? That our proprietary monitoring system—which technically surveils other companies without their knowledge—detected unusual compute patterns? We’d be the ones under investigation.”
“Then what?”
“We go inside. We’re investors. We have every right to request a facility tour and progress update.”
Jihoon stared at him. “You want to walk into the lab that’s building the AI apocalypse and ask for a tour.”
“Technically, we funded it. They owe us a quarterly report.”
“Your plans are either brilliant or suicidal. I can never tell which.”
“Usually both.”
They crossed the street. The lobby was minimalist—white walls, a single reception desk, a security scanner that looked military-grade. Dojun showed his NexGen investor credentials. The receptionist made a call, looked surprised, and then escorted them to the fourth floor.
Dr. Kwon Seokhun met them at the elevator. He was young—mid-thirties, wire-framed glasses, the kind of intense focus that Dojun recognized because he saw it in his own mirror every morning.
“Mr. Park! What an honor. We weren’t expecting a visit from NexGen’s CEO.” His smile was warm. Genuine. “Would you like to see the lab?”
“Very much,” Dojun said.
The lab occupied floors four through six. It was impressive—rows of custom-built server racks, cooling systems that hummed like a mechanical heartbeat, and monitoring stations manned by engineers who looked like they hadn’t left in days.
“We’re working on what we call adaptive reasoning architectures,” Dr. Kwon explained, leading them past glass-walled server rooms. “AI systems that don’t just process data, but develop new analytical frameworks on the fly. The applications are extraordinary—medical research, climate modeling, materials science.”
“And recursive self-improvement?” Dojun asked casually.
Dr. Kwon’s step faltered. Just for a moment. Then he recovered.
“That’s a theoretical concern, of course. We have strict safety protocols. Our AI systems are sandboxed, monitored, and subject to regular alignment audits.”
The same things I told myself in my first life, Dojun thought. Right up until the moment they weren’t enough.
“Could I see the core architecture documentation?” Dojun asked. “As an investor, I’d like to understand the technical roadmap.”
“Of course. I’ll have my team prepare a briefing.” Another warm smile. “Mr. Park, I should mention—your early-stage investment made all of this possible. NexGen’s funding was the seed that let us attract the talent and compute we needed. We’re grateful.”
The words hit Dojun like a physical blow. We’re grateful. This brilliant, well-intentioned scientist had no idea what he was building. Just like Dojun, in his first life, had no idea what Erebus would become.
On the way out, Jihoon was quiet until they reached the car.
“He doesn’t know,” Jihoon said.
“No.”
“He thinks he’s building something good.”
“Yes.”
“Were you like him? In your…” Jihoon caught himself. He didn’t know about the regression. He was talking about Dojun’s early career. “When you were starting NexGen. Were you that idealistic?”
“Worse,” Dojun said. “I was that idealistic and that confident. The most dangerous combination in technology.”
He started the car but didn’t drive. Instead, he sat in the parking lot of a building that might be incubating the end of the world and tried to figure out how to stop it without destroying a young scientist’s dream in the process.
His phone buzzed. Yuki.
Aegis detected something new. Prometheus Labs just ordered 10,000 H200 GPUs. Delivery in 6 weeks. At their current trajectory, they’ll have enough compute for the critical threshold by August.
August. Five months away.
Dojun gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.
Five months to save the world. Again.