Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Holy Blood (13)
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"Is that your concept? It's totally cool...!"
Rico's eyes sparkled as she was about to launch into yet another whirlwind of chatter.
Suddenly, the door to the waiting room swung open. The staff member who had guided us here reappeared, drawing everyone's attention and naturally cutting off her budding ramble.
"Phew..."
I let out a quiet sigh of relief when no one was looking.
The staff member announced the instructions in a businesslike tone to the group.
"Thank you for waiting. From now on, those present will meet with the chairman one by one in order. Please prepare yourselves."
The atmosphere grew heavy in an instant.
In the silence thick with mounting tension, the staff member impassively called out the next notice.
"First up is Professor Averium. Please follow me."
Someone slowly rose at the words. It was an elderly man seated in the corner of the waiting room.
He straightened his suit meticulously, his expression stern, and followed the staff member out.
Even after the two disappeared, the waiting room remained shrouded in silence.
The air among those present felt charged with the realization that something real was about to begin.
Even Rico held back from chattering carelessly, mindful of the eyes around her in this mood.
In the hushed space, I pondered for a moment.
'If he meets each of these people one by one, we might be waiting here quite a while.'
But contrary to my expectations, the staff member returned in less than three minutes after the old man had gone.
The staff member promptly called the next name.
"Ms. Olivia."
A stern-looking middle-aged woman in rimless glasses strode out with sharp clicks of her heels.
And shortly after, another was summoned.
"Director Max."
Then the next.
"Mr. Benarden."
The turns were coming far faster than anticipated.
What was going on? Maybe he was meeting several at once.
Yet some of those called returned to the waiting room occasionally.
And without exception, they gathered their belongings with grim faces and left wordlessly.
As the number of waiting people dwindled, the tension among the remaining grew ever thicker.
And at last, her turn arrived.
"Ms. Rico."
"Yes!"
She jumped up with a face full of nerves and hurried after the staff member. Watching her boisterous exit, I found a note clutched in my hand before I knew it.
It was scribbled with something over-the-top like, 'We just click so well, so make sure to contact me outside!' along with a phone number.
I crumpled it into my pocket roughly and let out a low sigh.
She wasn't a bad person at heart, but honestly, she was too much for me to handle.
Just a few minutes of talk had drained me completely.
Still, thanks to her nonstop chatter, I'd been able to let go of my tension for a bit. That much was true.
'Well, it did help. Should I be grateful for that...?'
But now even that noise was gone, and anxiety crept back in.
In this endless wait, stress was starting to make my stomach ache faintly.
'Wish I'd been first.'
Then, whatever the outcome, I could've wrapped it up and gone home by now.
I sighed inwardly and tried to clear my mind.
Meanwhile, the people in the waiting room continued to thin out one by one.
Soon, the vast space felt not just quiet, but eerily dead silent.
In the end, I was the last one left.
Finally, in the empty expanse with only me remaining, my name was called.
"Ms. Evania."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The man asked someone again today.
"What do you live for?"
This interviewee was an elite trader who had recently gained fame in the securities firm for his sharp investment instincts.
A man who embodied the city's definition of success.
Without the slightest hesitation, he answered in a voice brimming with confidence.
"My purpose in life is clear, Chairman. It's to read the flow of the world, take on risks, and seize value faster than anyone else. Creating greater profits and accumulating wealth—that's the one driving force that propels me."
Lian nodded faintly.
"Impressive."
His voice was flat, and his hollow eyes reflected no emotion whatsoever.
He merely gazed at the man with deep, empty eyes like the abyss and quietly countered.
"Then, in your eyes, I must seem happy."
The young elite faltered for a moment.
The man before him, Lian Lumen, stood at the pinnacle of everything he aspired to achieve in life. Yet nowhere on that face, laden with immense wealth and power, could he find a trace of happiness.
"..."
The exchange with the flustered man soon concluded.
The next visitor was the elderly professor.
"Chairman."
The professor opened quietly.
"Philosophy often begins before the greatest voids. When all of life feels meaningless, that's when humans finally start asking about 'meaning.'"
The old man caught his breath and continued.
"Chairman, when a great sculptor departs this world, do their masterpieces vanish with them?"
"........."
"Your wife devoted her life's love to sculpting you, her masterpiece. Her love, wisdom, and warmth are already etched deeply into every corner of your life. So don't seek reasons to live outside yourself. Let the rest of your days be lived as the sole masterpiece left by that great artist, your wife. Prove with your life how dazzling her love was. Your story isn't over. It's just beginning a new journey together in a different way."
He understood the words intellectually.
But... Lian's heart remained utterly unmoved.
Any philosophy or ideology felt like mere wordplay right now.
Afterward, the invited writers urged him to sublimate his pessimism into creation. The psychologist advised giving himself time to grieve and honoring his emotions. The famous painter suggested rediscovering the joy of finding a new muse.
But it was all futile.
Even the finest delicacies tasted like chewing dry sand. Everyone he met blurred into shadowy figures. No scenic vista, no matter how breathtaking, appeared but in faded gray.
New ventures, new love, new goals... All seemed utterly meaningless.
Yet even now, he was summoning diverse people for conversations.
For one reason alone.
To keep the promise he'd made with his wife at the very end.
["Even if I go... please, keep on living... for me..."]
The man facing an inevitable farewell was searching to reclaim the purpose of his soon-to-be-lost life.
Hoping to find some clue in others' lives, he had met people from all walks of society.
But the more these encounters piled up, the clearer it became.
His sole wish was to bring back those days when his wife smiled healthily.
And the deeper this disillusionment sank, the more impossible keeping his promise to her felt.
"..."
He glanced at his reflection in the glass window.
A weary man's face, shrouded in heavy gloom.
There was no trace of the corporate titan others exalted.
Once, he'd believed money and power could achieve anything. Now, he saw only a failure who couldn't save the one woman he loved.
If selling his soul to a devil would grant his wish, he'd accept in a heartbeat.
But in this era built on towers of reason, not even such fantasies tempted him.
In a time where material authority transcended all, when faced with the impossible that capital couldn't buy, what could a human possibly rely on?
Lost in such thoughts, he heard a low voice from outside.
"Chairman, the final guest of the day."
Moments later, the door opened quietly, and someone stepped in cautiously.
"......."
Entering the reception room was a girl with a mysteriously ethereal air, unlike anyone he'd met so far.
Her attire was in an unfamiliar style, yet it carried a solemn grace.
Gazing at her, he recalled the file he'd skimmed earlier.
Someone invited from a religious group on the outskirts, was it?
There were other details, but he paid them no mind.
'The church's saintess...'
The moniker suited her perfectly; she was a strikingly beautiful girl.
Rare beauty, rare background.
But no deeper stirrings arose.
He had already met every oddity the city offered.
The utterly exhausted man, with no expectations left, mechanically posed the question he'd repeated dozens of times today.
"Alright, one question. What do you live for?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The chairman of the massive corporation I faced for the first time, Lian Lumen, was a man of profoundly gloomy demeanor.
Shadowed eyes, a parched face, and the pale complexion forged from unrelenting fatigue.
A man with such a visage now asked me, just stepping into the reception room.
"What do you live for?"
The sudden question caught me off guard.
Honestly, I'd been worrying about something else entirely up to now.
That this invitation might be a trap to uncover the secret of my 'miracles' and lure me out.
I hadn't shaken that unease the whole way here.
But the moment my eyes met his vacant gaze, I realized.
He seemed like a man with no room to think of anything beyond his own affairs.
Thus, this meeting wasn't an interrogation—it was just for the question.
As the leader of a rare religious group amid all these encounters from various fields, I'd been invited too.
Guessing the situation, I let out a quiet inner sigh of relief.
With my mind at ease, I could finally consider the essence of the question he'd just posed.
'What do I live for?'
Honestly... I'd never really pondered that.
Even in my original world, a delicious fried chicken would make me set aside all life's worries.
Such profound reflections weren't my forte.
And I sensed that even a carefully considered answer wouldn't be right.
Because all those intellectuals he'd met before surely hadn't given him the answer he sought. That's why they'd been dismissed so quickly.
'So how should I respond?'
After a brief deliberation, I decided.
If anything I said was likely wrong anyway, no need to rack my brain.
I'd been summoned here as the 'church's saintess,' so I'd give an answer fitting that role.
Thus, I feigned a calm, reverent demeanor and replied.
"My goal is to lead the church according to God's will and spread the faith."
The man fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Faith. Good."
His empty eyes pierced me as he asked.
"Then, if you lost all that faith, how would you go on living?"
The unexpected retort plunged me back into thought.
Honestly, I didn't truly believe in any god yet, so losing faith itself wasn't a big deal. Losing the power of 'miracles' might be a shame, but it wasn't mine to begin with anyway.
But if I couldn't use miracles... and lost my way home forever, that would be different.
If my sole goal in this strange world vanished? What then?
I began to glimpse the feelings behind the man's question.
I answered.
"...I don't know. I'd probably just accept it and keep going, or maybe I couldn't adapt at all. I'd only know once I was in that situation."
The man paused in silence, then nodded again.
"I see. Thank you for your time."
The exchange ended there. No more questions or answers passed between us.
His naturally withdrawing gaze was a clear signal to leave.
It felt almost anticlimactic after all my tension—this was my dismissal, permission to go.
'...Is that really it?'
A wave of emptiness mixed with relief.
Yet why was I still hesitating, hand on the doorknob?
"......"
Frankly, the situation was nothing but favorable for me.
No reason to complain about being summoned just for this.
This was Omega Detroit's top corporation. Not being kidnapped and receiving such polite treatment was already generous.
Moreover, meeting the chairman himself at headquarters and emerging unscathed was a huge win.
No matter how I looked at it, this was the best outcome. Slipping away as some quirky cult was the safest choice. Keeping the corporation at arm's length—like supplying wine—was the right distance.
I mustn't get arrogant.
He was the corporate leader.
No matter how casually we'd chatted, I couldn't treat him lightly.
What story lay behind this haggard man?
What did it imply, asking others for the meaning of life as if ready to give up everything?
It had nothing to do with me. I could just pretend ignorance and walk away.
'Yeah... that's the smart move.'
So why the hesitation?
Was it because, stripping away fame and status, he was just a man sunk in deep resignation and despair?
Or because he looked so tormented despite having it all?
That expression was no different from the back-alley folk I'd helped before.
Frail humans suffering inevitable misfortunes of life.
Feeling the same pity for a corporate chairman and slum poor—absurd, even to me.
But if I extended a helping hand to the desperate without discriminating by poverty, what reason to turn away the wealthy?
Someone once said people instinctively rush to save a child falling into a well—not for gain, but natural compassion for the endangered kid.
Whether from a poor or rich home hardly matters.
Just someone in need of help right in front of you.
'...Yeah, sure. Feels like I overcharged for that wine anyway.'
Call this the change.
Turning back, I asked the man, still wearing that gloomy face.
"If it's not too rude, Chairman, could you share a bit of your story?"