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CH88 | DI
🕑 Added 2025-04-22 07:21:30 +0000 UTCAfter spending a night in a hotel I had booked in advance in San Francisco, I boarded an early morning flight.
My destination was Philadelphia, to meet David.
There were two main purposes for my meeting with David: to make him a somewhat unusual offer and then to meet an important person afterward.
I arrived at Philadelphia airport at 2 PM.
As soon as I turned off airplane mode, my phone rang.
The caller was David.
[Come out at Gate 3.]
“Could it be… you came to pick me up? I was planning to take a taxi…”
[Ha-ha, I can’t let a valued guest take a taxi.]
I frowned.
We were just partners bound by a contract.
I didn’t want to establish a custom of personally picking up and seeing off each other.
But since he was already there, it was too late to tell him to go back.
I decided to accept his hospitality just for today.
However, the moment I saw David’s car, I regretted my decision.
‘Is this thing even safe…?’
His car looked so old that I wondered how it was still running.
Moreover, the back seat and trunk were filled with boxes of documents, leaving no space for my luggage.
“Ah! I didn’t have time to clear out the trunk. Could you manage holding it?”
Reluctantly, I sat in the passenger seat holding my luggage.
After an uncomfortable journey, we arrived at the Castleman Foundation’s office. As soon as I entered, I couldn’t help but frown slightly.
“Ha-ha, sorry about the mess…”
David laughed awkwardly, and I couldn’t bring myself to say it wasn’t a mess.
The Castleman Foundation’s office looked more like a warehouse.
More precisely, a warehouse overtaken by furniture.
The walls were covered with filing cabinets, and the interior was so crammed with bookshelves that there was barely enough space to walk through.
Following David through the maze-like corridors, we came across a sofa that seemed meant for guests.
However, it too was buried under piles of documents.
“Ah, I haven’t cleared this either. Ha-ha…”
David quickly moved the papers from the sofa to the floor and then headed towards a mini-fridge.
“What would you like to drink? Cola, Sprite, ginger ale…”
“Ginger ale, please.”
As I responded, I noticed that despite the clutter, the sofa itself was clean.
The floor and other furniture were also free from dust.
There was no issue with cleanliness. It was just overly cluttered with items.
“How many people usually work here?”
“Just me, Jessie, and one other employee. When volunteers come…”
“Volunteers?”
People can actually fit in this space? David detected the surprise in my voice and laughed awkwardly again.
“Ha-ha, we usually go to a nearby diner when people visit.”
That makes sense.
I looked around the office again.
It seemed impossible to work efficiently in such an environment.
Above all, it was not a suitable space for receiving external guests.
“Have you considered finding a larger office?”
“No, this is fine.”
You might be fine, but I’m not.
Seeing my expression, David laughed heartily and continued.
“Actually, we used to use a bigger place, about four times the size of this one. I moved here after taking over the foundation.”
That explained why the place was overtaken by furniture. Yet, unresolved questions lingered.
“Why… Why do you voluntarily work like this?”
David straightened his shoulders and answered confidently.
“We operate on donations. We can’t afford luxuries.”
His words carried firm conviction.
There was pride in his voice, but I couldn’t agree.
“Having a minimum functional workspace isn’t a luxury.”
“Ah, but isn’t the biggest luxury in this world space? Rent is more expensive than any luxury brand.”
He was excessively honest.
Honesty isn’t necessarily bad, but when it hampers work efficiency to this extent, it’s problematic.
‘This needs to be fixed right away.’
With that decision, I sighed deeply and pulled out a check.
“Here’s the $4 million promised until April.”
The freeze Gerard had put in place was already lifted, and I was free to withdraw funds.
I had written the check in advance as the deadline was approaching.
“Ah, time flies…”
David’s expression went blank as he took the check, fingering the numbers and muttering.
“I can’t believe it.”
“As I said, feel free to verify it with the bank.”
“No, I didn’t mean that…”
David let out a half-laugh and then stopped.
His eyes became increasingly moist.
“Do you know how much Jessie and I managed to save over four years before meeting Sean?”
“I’m not sure.”
“$500,000.”
That’s just $125,000 a year.
It seems they have no knack for fundraising.
“Ha-ha, it feels like I’ve won the lottery.”
To think it’s like winning the lottery shows his modesty.
But considering they had only scraped together $500,000 over four years, and Rachel and I had handed over $6 million in just six months, it’s understandable he felt that way.
However, I couldn’t let David continue with such modest behavior.
He was now my partner.
If he’s going to work with me, he needs to adopt a mindset and environment that match.
I pulled out the checkbook again and wrote a new check.
This time for $2 million.
As I tore it out and handed it to David, his eyes widened.
“Why this…”
“Get a new office. Something that can accommodate at least 10 people.”
David blinked a few times, then quickly regained his senses and raised his hands in protest.
“No! What you’ve given is enough! If we have that kind of money, we should invest in research! And we don’t need 10 people; most of the work is done by volunteers…”
“We need regular employees, not volunteers. It would be good to hire at least 10 people.”
“What? But so many staff…”
David’s voice wavered, but I firmly responded.
“We’ll definitely need them. There will be much more work.”
“What kind of work…”
Confusion clouded David’s face.
It was time to bring up the proposal I had prepared.
I took a deep breath and began.
“I think we should establish a company.”
“A company?”
“Yes, and I would like David to be the CEO of that company.”
***
The Castleman Foundation is a nonprofit organization.
This was a significant problem.
All the funds I provided were treated as mere donations.
Personally, this was not a major issue, but it would be different once the hedge fund was established.
Gathering investors’ money to donate $50 billion to a nonprofit?
Which investor would allow that?
To overcome this structural limitation, I had devised a new plan.
“We’ll establish a capped profit company under the foundation.”
“A capped profit company?”
“Yes. It will engage in profit-making activities, but profits will be capped, and any excess will be donated to the nonprofit parent organization.”
“Is that even possible?”
It was a novel concept at the moment, but familiar to me because it borrowed from the system used by NexGen AI in my past life.
NexGen AI was a nonprofit organization established to develop safe and beneficial AI for all humanity.
However, after launching services based on large language models like GPT, they set up a capped profit subsidiary to facilitate investment attraction.
I intended to apply the same model, but instead of AI, I adapted it to rare diseases.
“Imagine a group aiming to develop AI. Initially, they operate as a nonprofit…”
At this point, NexGen AI had not yet been established.
So I pretended it was a hypothetical scenario to explain the concept to David, whose expression still looked confused.
“It might be possible in the AI field, as it has business potential. But Castleman is different, isn’t it? It would be a company with no profitability…”
“Not necessarily. ‘Cures’ may not be profitable, but there are other elements involved.”
“What do you mean?”
“The processes and procedures needed to find treatments for rare diseases can be commercialized.”
Seeing David’s ongoing confusion, I continued explaining.
“For example, there’s the acquisition of bio-samples. What if we commercialized this service and offered it to the public?”
“!?”
Understanding finally dawned in David’s eyes.
Bio-samples, or biological specimens, were a concept familiar to him.
We were already conducting basic research with bio-samples donated by patients.
Every time an episode occurred in Castleman patients, hospitals would conduct tissue or blood tests.
Samples from these tests were sometimes stored rather than discarded, and David had managed to secure them.
This process was not easy.
Although many patients were willing to donate samples, the actual collection required significant effort.
It would never progress if left to the patients alone.
Thus, David took action himself.
Patients simply had to submit a consent form, and Castleman Foundation took full responsibility for the subsequent processes.
The foundation would contact hospitals to obtain consent, check for the existence of samples, safely transport them, and ensure they were preserved without damage.
“My suggestion is to commercialize this process. We could establish cooperative relationships with all major hospitals, and when a patient occurs, we would arrange for their bio-sample to be donated to us with their consent.”
“But isn’t the number of patients with Castleman disease quite low?”
“That’s why we expand to cover all rare diseases. Essentially operating a bio-bank dedicated to rare diseases and then selling these samples to research institutions.”
“Hmm, but is there really enough demand to operate a business? It’s a rare disease, after all…”
“The demand across all rare diseases isn’t bad. And what’s more important…”
A sly smile escaped me.
“This way, we would be the first to secure samples of any new diseases.”
“New diseases, such as…?”
“You never know when an unexpected epidemic might erupt.”
I said it might happen, but the epidemic I had in mind was COVID.
If this system were properly established?
When everyone else was scrambling to secure samples, we would already have an established system to monopolize them.
We could probably sell them for a high price.
Of course, my aim isn’t just money.
This is a necessary step to fund treatment development.
No matter how much profit I return, investors will lament the disappearing 20%.
Unless the investment constantly changes targets.
Continue investing in unprofitable rare diseases for 10 years?
Pour $50 billion into a consistently losing venture?
Surely there will be grumblers.
And after a few years, some will demand to quit.
That’s why this mechanism is necessary.
Amidst a massive panic spread by COVID, a company that monopolizes the bio-samples of COVID appears.
Governments and major pharmaceutical companies worldwide beg this company for samples.
This would surely attract significant attention.
And then, it turns out that Unicorn with an 80% hit rate already owns half of that company’s shares?
What seemed like a frivolous expenditure turns out to be an attractive investment?
This is what it would take for my hedge fund investors to accept investing $50 billion.
