Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: It's Okay Because I'm a Genius Despite My Terminal Illness
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The departure date was set, and somewhat busy days were passing by.
[Terminal-nim. You doing well? Thanks to you, I'm swamped these days—no time to even lift a spoon for meals. I'm rushing as best I can... but the businesses these guys left behind are no joke. Three illegal gambling dens, one motel, and even two trendy clubs...]
True to his meticulous nature, Viper was sending texts updating me on the progress.
[The clubs seem like they could make decent money if kept running. How about taking them over outright? With the cash we stripped from these guys, plus about 400 million won, it should be plenty...]
He even made an unexpected proposal, so after some thought, I gave the okay.
Perfect timing, since I had some spare cash I was pondering what to do with.
I'd just leave the operations to Viper and collect a monthly cut as a figurehead owner.
"Anyway..."
The disposal of Bbangjjigi's assets was going smoothly, so there wasn't much to worry about.
Since it was all illegally obtained, even Baldy was cooperating without a fuss.
Oh, and I threw together the video analysis report and submitted it on time.
The method was straightforward.
I went to the library and studied similar reports—ones written by experts—through perusal.
[Magic Realm vs. Superhuman Realm: Considerations on Relative Advantages]
[How Ranged Types Survive in One-on-One Duels]
[Establishing Combat Patterns by Type in One Volume]
.
.
Once I absorbed the theory, the rest was easy.
I watched the assigned videos and roughly fitted things together.
Matchups between types follow set formulas anyway, so there aren't huge differences.
Should've done it sooner.
It felt like a hassle before, but once I internalized it, it turned out pretty useful.
I thought it was just armchair debate, but there's a clear difference between reading the manual and not.
You really do see as much as you know.
Bzzz.
And then, on this Wednesday evening.
A text came from Jeong Ae-ri, who had said she'd contact me soon.
[I passed on the autograph~ A-rin absolutely loved it? And for the signing event, after semester's better, so mid-August...]
She thoughtfully scheduled it around my student life, avoiding busy periods. Grateful for that.
I had a favor to ask anyway, so I replied.
[Got it. But is the Dodam studio free on weekday evenings? I'd like to use it for one day if possible.]
[Hmm~ Why? Starting your own art?]
Jeong Ae-ri shot back the moment she read it.
[Not exactly, just need to sketch something simple.]
[Ah, practice sketches... You gonna leave any behind?]
[No.]
Why's this woman like this? Acting like she'll scavenge and exhibit them.
[Kidding. Kidding.]
Felt pretty sincere, though.
[After 9 PM it's free straight through, so use it anytime. Would love if you came every day.]
...
[Oh, and I heard rumors you're going to Verona. Invited to the opera festival, right? You going too, junior?]
As expected from the queen of gossip, Jeong Ae-ri was on top of other clubs' news too.
[Yeah, I am.]
[Hmm~ Alright. I'll handle the rest.]
No idea what she meant by handling it, but after the texts, I headed out of the dorm.
It was past 9, and since I'd made up my mind, I figured I'd get to work.
The subject: Niece's mansion, etched in my memory.
I'd asked Cheol-su to put out a bounty, but it was hard to describe verbally.
I was heading to create a sort of building composite sketch.
* * *
I'm sitting in front of a canvas for the first time in ages. But there's less pressure.
Stripping away all non-drawing elements—like emotions, intentions, views—and focusing solely on depiction.
Just realistic rendering.
I closed my eyes first and revisited the memory.
Sweeping away impurities, clearing out stray thoughts one by one, and soon my mind cleared.
The image from memory sharpened.
Specific shapes and colors felt vivid, tangible.
Stage 1 complete: visualization done.
From here, my personal method.
Not something I'd call "right," infused with my tastes.
First, prepare a blank sheet next to the mental image.
Then transfer the image over.
Position it considering composition, placement, purpose.
Refining it to look more like a proper drawing.
Once that's done, the brain's job is finished.
Now the hands take over.
I snapped my eyes open. Projected the mental sheet onto the real canvas.
Naturally grabbed a pencil and sketched...
Swish, swish swish.
A frantic speed battle.
Must capture as much as possible while the image is intact.
Hands move almost unconsciously, but no erasing.
Leave the lines as is.
Instead of revising, focus on squeezing in more.
As countless lines etch onto the white ground, the memory fades—but it's natural, having served its purpose.
Keep at it, and eventually the hands slow, dizziness hits like the world spinning.
Snap to at that point, and the sketch is mostly done.
"Good enough."
I rolled my stiff shoulders and checked, compared.
Low hill. Entrance lined with two rows of cypresses.
Behind, a two-story mansion with orange roof and ivory brick walls, like a backdrop.
Still black-and-white, but imagining color, it's passable.
Very satisfying piece—no, building composite.
"Well, I did pour my all into it."
Enough to drain every ounce of strength.
Occupational hazard, I guess. Never half-ass anything.
Glancing at the time—already 11 PM—so rough coloring it is.
Exactly two hours. No, three.
Wait, even then four at least... plus layering.
"Screw it."
Anyway, wrap before dawn. If not, use mana to dry it fast.
Fun, though.
Maybe due to improved execution?
No reinforcement used, but feels better than before.
* * *
Friday, 3 PM.
I left the dorm on time for assembly.
A trip, sort of, so plainclothes over uniform for once.
Top's my usual black hoodie, but bottoms: black track pants freshly dug from the closet.
What's different?
Only I know, but it is different.
Fabric, fit. Right?
After this arc, hit the penthouse.
One room's a walk-in closet—bound to be stuff there.
Not one to fuss over outfits usually, but that's for solitary sketching in my old room.
Situation's different now.
Meeting people, inner 28-year-old uncle but outer fresh 21-year-old college kid.
Summer heat too, no less.
Anyway, walking to cicada chorus, an excited voice rang out.
"Hey, looks totally good!"
"Pass this time? Just grabbed what the mannequin was wearing."
Cheon Seo-yun in white denim and green short-sleeve knit praised Baek Sa-young's clean beige polo and jeans coord.
She used to get roasted for that look...
Impressive growth, I thought, approaching.
"Always one buzzkill. Track pants."
"Uh... yeah."
Lee Dae-ho pointed at me with a playful grin; Cheon Seo-yun eyed me dubiously.
But I stood tall.
Or acted like it.
Owner of two clubs now. Or soon...
Rich folks dress down more, right?
"Tch, never mind."
Bluff worked—or maybe my recent generosity—so Cheon Seo-yun just turned away.
"Hey, why no comment on Park Ha-yul?"
"...What."
Even as Lee Dae-ho teased, she held back, then eyed me suspiciously.
"But you pack a suit?"
"Suit? What suit."
"It's in the packing list. Dress code for the opera venue."
"Oh."
Right, original story too.
Rediscovery arc with protagonist crew; lavished descriptions on goddess-like Cheon Seo-yun in dress.
"Not 'oh.' 'Gasp.' No suit, no entry."
"Then buy one there."
Italy's fashion capital, lucky.
"Everyone assembled?"
Then club president Kim Hak-hyun, the slightly plump faculty advisor, and...
"For this special day, a special member. Come on out!"
Casual-clad Reina appeared; the room buzzed.
Applause and cheers followed.
Lee Dae-ho especially, fists high, leading the Reina chants.
Only me and Cheon Seo-yun stayed meh.
She toed a pebble, muttering.
"She gets special treatment everywhere."
Not wrong.
Reina's core trait: [Special].
Cheon Seo-yun's: [Relatable].
Settings clash beyond circumstances; they envy each other's qualities.
"Treat her just as one member, casually."
Kim Hak-hyun sent Reina to her seat, hoisted the Youth Club flag.
"Have fun, everyone!"
And we're off.
Thirty excited steps toward the portal station.
*Oh, Ju A-rin sits this episode out. Personal matters.
* * *
Three portals in succession, and Verona.
Around 5 PM now—from Seoul's skyscrapers to quaint medieval town in just two hours.
Out the station, event buses awaited.
Day one: follow organizers' schedule, no free time.
Eat together, photos, festival briefing.
Boring stretch.
Reina joined throughout in hat and mask.
Me? Identity out or not, whatever.
But for Niece trips, restrictions, church attention maybe.
She worked hard to blend.
Following itinerary, dusk fell.
To hotel; Kim Hak-hyun whipped out his prepared lottery box like clockwork.
"Time to draw rooms. Two per room; same number pairs are roommates for two nights three days."
Original script, so half-listened.
Opposite genders redraw. No roommate swaps. Breakfast together mandatory, etc.
Tons of missions, I recall.
Irrelevant to me anyway.
"But ending like this'd be dull, right? Added a special 0. Solo freedom~ enjoy the top-suite alone..."
That 0... mine.
Back and forth Niece-Verona; roommate means eyes, excuses.
Too many hassles.
"First up."
I stepped forward at Kim Hak-hyun's gesture.
Hand in box; emcee-mode him asked.
"Junior, which number you want?"
"Zero."
"Oho, bold from the start!"
"Here."
Pulled what I grabbed.
"Eh?"
Zero, obviously.
Box was see-through; weirder not to get it.