The fluorescent lights of the Blue Bird clinic hummed softly overhead, a constant white noise that Je-hoon had long since tuned out. Saturday evening, December 3, 2005. Day 48.
The elderly man in bed 7—Mr. Choi, diabetic, seventy-three, stubborn foot ulcer that had refused to close for eight months—lay propped against pillows, staring at his bandaged foot with something close to wonder. Two days earlier, Je-hoon had stood at the bedside for less than twelve seconds, palm hovering an inch above the dressing, channeling 0.003% of core energy in a single, calculated pulse. Not enough to raise suspicion. Just enough to ignite the stalled proliferative phase.
Now the ulcer's edges had pinkened dramatically. Granulation tissue—healthy, beefy red—filled what had been a crater. Exudate had dropped to almost nothing. Epithelialization was advancing at a rate textbooks called "remarkable."
Dr. Lee flipped through the chart, pen tapping rhythmically against his clipboard.
"This is..." He exhaled through his nose. "Beyond literature. His HbA1c is still 8.7. No new antibiotics. No debridement beyond standard. Yet look at this."
Je-hoon stood near the doorframe, arms loose at his sides, expression sunny-calm. "Perhaps his immune response finally kicked in. Sometimes the body just... decides."
Dr. Lee glanced up, eyes narrowing behind thin glasses. Not accusation—yet. Curiosity edged with something heavier. "Or perhaps the antiseptic we used had an unexpected adjuvant."
They held the silence. Neither named the impossibility hanging between them.
Je-hoon inclined his head fractionally. "I could look into optimizing standard care. Something simple. Inexpensive. Plausible."
Dr. Lee studied him for three long seconds. Then nodded once. "Do that."
That night, in the narrow storage room behind the orphanage kitchen—repurposed as his private study—Je-hoon opened three borrowed medical textbooks and a stack of printed journal abstracts. The single bulb cast long shadows across the pages.
ZEO did not announce itself with fanfare. It simply delivered.
Input received. Processing wound healing biochemistry. Phases: Inflammation (0–3 days), Proliferation (3–21 days), Remodeling (21 days–1+ year). Target acceleration: proliferative phase without violating biological plausibility.
Data streamed inward: cytokine cascades, fibroblast migration rates, collagen deposition kinetics, angiogenesis triggers. ZEO cross-referenced every approved topical agent in Korea's formulary.
Common options filtered:
Silver sulfadiazine: broad antimicrobial, but can retard epithelialization in some models.
Medical-grade honey: osmotic draw, low pH, sustained low-level H₂O₂, anti-inflammatory cytokines.
Aloe vera gel: mannose-6-phosphate stimulates fibroblast proliferation, reduces inflammation.
Zinc oxide: micronutrient support for metalloproteinases and immune function.
ZEO ran simulations. Thousands. Millions. Ratios adjusted in increments of 0.1%. pH curves plotted. Stability at 22–28°C verified. Cost per 100g calculated.
Final output arrived clean, optimized:
Formula H-1
50% medical-grade honey (antimicrobial baseline, moisture retention, osmotic debridement)
30% 1% silver sulfadiazine cream (infection control synergy)
15% aloe vera gel (anti-inflammatory, fibroblast migration)
5% zinc oxide (collagen synthesis support)
pH adjusted to 6.8 (optimal for epithelialization and protease inhibition)
Projected outcome: 25–40% faster closure versus standard care in diabetic ulcers. Dramatic enough to matter. Plausible enough to publish.
Je-hoon exhaled slowly, the first real breath in forty-seven minutes. Not magic. Just chemistry plus precision.
Sunday afternoon he walked to the small public library branch two blocks away. In the reference section, he pulled down a slim volume on Korean intellectual property law.
Minors could not file patents independently. But rights could be assigned. Blue Bird Foundation could file. Dr. Lee could be listed co-inventor for credibility. Royalties—conservative 5% net—could fund the orphanage clinic indefinitely.
Global wound care market estimates from the journals hovered in the tens of billions even back then. A sliver of share—0.1%—would be life-changing.
He sketched the outline on scrap paper:
Detailed specification + preparation protocol
Pilot data (Dr. Lee to run small controlled comparison)
Provisional application via foundation
Licensing outreach post-proof
First requirement: evidence the formula worked better than placebo.
Monday evening, clinic quiet except for the drip of an IV in the next room.
Je-hoon laid the single typed page in front of Dr. Lee.
"Formula H-1. All ingredients currently approved and inexpensive. Optimized ratios for synergy. I propose a pilot: ten patients with comparable diabetic ulcers. Standard care versus H-1. Primary endpoint: time to 50% closure."
Dr. Lee scanned the composition, eyebrows climbing.
"These proportions... honey at 50%? That's high, but the literature supports it for osmotic action. And combining with silver... interesting. Aloe and zinc could counter silver's known retardation effect."
He looked up. "You want ethics committee approval?"
"Small n. Low risk. Clinic patients already consented for standard innovations."
Dr. Lee tapped the page once. "I've seen what might be very early evidence of accelerated healing." His gaze drifted toward Mr. Choi's room. "I'll submit tomorrow. Recruitment from existing records. You prepare the batches under Mrs. Kang's supervision."
Je-hoon inclined his head. "Thank you."
No smile. No triumph. Just the next optimized step.
By Thursday the first 500g jar sat cooling on the pharmacy counter. Pale gold. Smooth. Faint medicinal-honey scent. pH meter read 6.82. Sterility confirmed.
Patient #1 started application Wednesday evening. Thursday morning: inflammation visibly reduced, exudate down 60%, pain score dropped from 6 to 3.
Dr. Lee examined the wound. "Early signs are good. We'll know more in a week."
Je-hoon said nothing. ZEO had already projected the trajectory: full epithelialization by day 18 instead of day 28–35.
Plausible. Valuable. Cover.
Friday night, December 9. Je-hoon sat cross-legged on his thin mattress in the dormitory corner, small lamp shielded so it wouldn't wake the others.
Tomorrow: SNU Math Competition at 9 a.m. Goal—top 3. Scholarship + permanent credential.
Then 4 p.m.: HJ Group board members touring Blue Bird. Goal—demonstrate value, plant seeds for long-term partnership.
Two masks. Brilliant child prodigy. Quietly ruthless twelve-year-old founder.
He could wear both.
ZEO ran final simulations for both events.
Optimal paths locked.
He closed the lamp. Darkness settled.
Tomorrow the world would measure what fifty-four days of contained dominance had built.
The foundation was no longer theoretical.
It was ready to bear real weight.