Chapter 197
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 197
Chapter Title: The Season When the Rose Wilts (6)
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It was a truly fatal sorrow.
Chairman Go Geoncheol found it hard to tear his eyes away from Han Ga-eul, steeped in melancholy. Today, she looked even more haggard than before. Day by day, she was withering away. Yet she didn't seem like one of those pathetic creatures sinking into listless death from pathological depression. If she had ever shown even a hint of such disarray, the chairman would have slashed her commodity value greatly—very greatly.
Ga-eul was always upright. Her will to live was clear. She had a reason to keep going. But that very thing was also the emotion withering her away. When he realized that longing both sustained and killed her autumn, the chairman thought:
*There can't possibly be another woman this mad.*
At least not in his era. Probably. If there were, why had he never seen one until now?
Ever since the emotion he believed couldn't be false turned out to be a lie, the chairman had never trusted anyone's heart. Therefore, Ga-eul wasn't human. Something this noble couldn't be human.
He also thought of it as uneconomical beauty.
But in an ugly world, beauty was inherently futile. It was already a commodity in itself, and the more beautiful, the greater its scarcity. Ga-eul was a flower of high rare value.
Thus, the tyrant felt both rage and impatience. How long would this woman stay in bloom? Would she wither away without him ever claiming her? All his bargaining chips were meaningless to Ga-eul. So he felt an urge he could barely contain. To forcibly pluck her. To ravage her.
But the moment he did, the tyrant would despise himself. He'd have sunk to the level of the rabble. Better to die than that.
"It doesn't suit you."
The chairman's irritated verdict terrified several people. The world's top fashion coordinators, stylists, costume designers, and such rabble. Their single assignment: to highlight autumn's beauty, her commodity value.
The main reason was some kind of verification. Meaningful only to the chairman himself.
The self-proclaimed experts eyed the tyrant warily. It was hard to recall their initial confidence from those cowed looks. Where had their bold promises of satisfaction gone?
"Is that it for today? Nothing else prepared?"
Everyone except Ga-eul shrank before the chairman's interrogation. It had been ten days since accepting the Hye-seong Group commission. They started confident of success, but now it was the opposite. What did these endless daily rejections mean?
One stylist stepped forward from the hesitant group.
"There are a few more sets left, but before that, I have one question."
"What is it."
"Why is green the only color off-limits, no matter what other colors work?"
"......"
*This fucking bitch.* Hiding his fury since he hadn't voiced it, the chairman watched as the stylist wiped cold sweat but endured with professional pride and rephrased.
"At first, I didn't think it strange. We've handled plenty of orders banning specifics—not just designs, but color rejections too. But now I think: isn't that the one true answer?"
Gaining a sliver of courage from the chairman not exploding yet, the stylist continued.
"We've done our absolute best so far. After a month, we even shed our pride. We sought cooperation from competitors worldwide. Yet you've never once been pleased, Chairman. Without exception, you frowned or shook your head on sight."
If there had been even a moment of contemplation or hesitation, the experts would have gleaned some direction on his tastes. But from Go Geoncheol, not a single clue.
"What you just saw was exactly the thousandth styling. It means we can't try anything new anymore. Except for the one restriction you imposed."
With that, the stylist struck a poised stance that drew attention to herself. Even stiff, it conveyed experience and gravitas. Now it was clear: her outfit was predominantly green. Different brightnesses and saturations added depth, while other colors harmonized as continuous or accent complements, taking minimal share.
Sensing her intent, the chairman received her tense nod.
"This isn't the first time. In this industry, clients often misunderstand their own tastes, so we need know-how to indirectly gauge their aesthetics. It's ultimately about reading cues, cross-verifying repeatedly to approach the truth."
"So?"
"The conclusion is what I already said."
*Cheeky.* The tyrant bristled at the idea of her testing him behind his back.
But he had to allow it. How could you negotiate without grasping what the other wants? The stylist had merely played the deal, and it was highly economical.
Above all, wasn't the true displeasure elsewhere?
*Is Han Gyeowol still lingering in this body, affecting my mind?*
An absurdly irrational suspicion. There were old tales like that in the past. But they were baseless superstitions. No medically proven cases, and theoretically laughable.
Yet he couldn't shake the doubt.
From their first meeting, his intense attraction to Ga-eul had been suspect.
And the green dress she cherished. It turned out to be Gyeowol's gift.
Beyond that, fitting clothes always shared the same hue, which irked the chairman.
*Did I truly fall at first sight? Is green truly the only color suiting Ga-eul? Or is there another reason for all this? Is that even possible? Why am I swayed by such irrational superstition...?*
Yet he didn't want to escape this pull toward her. The contradictory emotions tormented the tyrant more with time. Like the longing killing Ga-eul.
"That's enough for today. Everyone out."
The experts sighed in relief at the curt order.
Ga-eul stayed seated. When the chairman said "everyone," she was always the exception.
Left in the experts' styling—heavy crimson and ornate black—Ga-eul embodied her season's peak, they said. Falling leaves under a frostless moon, the last ripening of a garden. Regardless of the chairman's dissatisfaction, the experts were thrilled with Ga-eul as material. Some atmospheres couldn't be faked by looks alone.
After silently staring for a long while, the tyrant finally spoke.
"I've pondered how our deal can progress."
"......"
"You said no deal possible while I'm in your brother's body. Impossible even to start. So let me ask: if I return all rights to this body to Gyeowol, would a deal then be possible?"
Ga-eul clenched her fists. What trap was this?
"Then what happens to you, Chairman? Do you return to your original body?"
"Original body? Your question means: planning to remake and reuse the old shell?"
After the transplant, Go Geoncheol had personally destroyed his former body. With ruthless thoroughness. His unlucky daughter, Go Ayoung, who witnessed it, nearly fainted. The tyrant ignored her vomiting. It was that crucial to him.
*Truly a delightful moment.*
Just recalling it filled Go Geoncheol with deep satisfaction.
Of course, genetic data remained—for transplant safety. Cloning was possible. But no matter how young and healthy the new body, he wouldn't revert to the old form.
"Not quite."
To the confused Ga-eul, the chairman offered a compromise.
"Not the old shell, nor this one you claim is your brother's—a third body entirely. Plenty sell their youth everywhere."
"That's......"
"Don't say no to this too."
Go Geoncheol snapped sharply.
"You can't accept your brother's deal because you think that pup... Gyeowol didn't truly want it. Sacrificed for remaining family. Fine, I agree. But what about others? Those desperate to die."
"......"
"Plenty crave youth to revel in glorious afterlives. Fully adult, voluntary choices. You can't fault even their decisions. I'm willing to pay properly: upgraded afterlife insurance tiers, unlimited access to all released and future worldviews. Sufficient, no?"
After a breath, eyeing the silent Ga-eul, the chairman continued.
"Rejection-free bodies aren't common, but I can use a temporary one until a new match appears. Immunosuppressants are inconvenient, but.... The real issue is elsewhere."
Even prepared this far, one doubt tormented him.
"Would a deal truly happen then?"
Ga-eul understood. Why would she cling to him without Winter's body? She refused now to protect Winter's feelings—would that change? Either way, she'd be paying with herself.
*Winter wouldn't want that.*
Indeed, his following words matched her understanding.
"This is essentially credit. Can I truly have you afterward?"
Ga-eul calmly shook her head.
"You're still thinking wrong."
"Me?"
"Yes. Though you haven't said why you want me, watching you, one thing's clear: you don't even know what you truly want."
Go Geoncheol scoffed.
"You fancy yourself some profound sage. But I made it clear: I just want fragments of affection pieced together."
"No. You crave more than that. And it's not something deals or contracts can buy."
"Ha......"
Absurd rage boiled like lava. The tyrant barely suppressed the urge to scream and smash. Inventing such nonsense?
"Why not just say you hate it outright? To you, I'm no different from an enemy."
"I don't hate you. Don't see you as an enemy."
"You expect me to believe that now?"
"Believe me. I've never lied once. I hated you once, but not anymore."
If anything, to Ga-eul's eyes, the chairman hated himself more than anyone.
To the roughly turning Go Geoncheol, Ga-eul calmly demanded.
"And don't steal others' bodies. Even if they want it, it's because life is unhappy...... No matter how hard they try, no path to happiness, just wanting to flee the world. It's like being forced into the choice. If the afterlife escape brings joy, fine—but if still unhappy, nothing worse. Do they truly know the outcome when deciding?"
Personal freedom. Ga-eul recalled an old story. If a motorcycle rider who loves speed chooses not to wear safety gear as their personal call—wanting that thrill even at life's risk—is forcing it truly for their good?
Ga-eul thought yes. They'd regret it in the agony of a crash, severe injury, or dying. They claim readiness for death but don't truly believe it'll happen. Above all, they decide without knowing death.
How much more selling one's body, fleeing to the afterlife from a harsh world—wounded, abandoned by others.
*'One person's world is all the other people...'*
If just one person truly cherished, loved, warmly embraced them, would anyone want to abandon this world?
Knowing she might be arrogant, Ga-eul—who sent Winter away—had no room for other thoughts. That farewell was too cruel.
Thus, as long as he insisted on others' bodies, to Ga-eul, the tyrant remained just a tyrant.
"Another impasse today."
Chairman Go Geoncheol irritably closed his eyes. Swallowing anger inwardly was ordeal enough. He'd thought it a huge concession, yet this selfish bitch still cared only for herself.
*Why am I still drawn to her?*
*Why on earth.*
============================ Author's Notes ============================
#Delivery Requests
Even after announcing in the previous chapter's notes, emails keep coming from those not listed in the notice, asking to send books.
Free giveaways are truly impossible.
If the author were well-off, maybe, but not...
From now on, I'll assume deliberate and not reply. :)
#Q&A
Q. longway: @Trickster-gya How did they know it was Winter while suiciding? If they didn't know it was disguised Lt. Ben after escape, shouldn't they not know the mutant either?
A. First, assuming Trickster knew is Winter's judgment.
Basis: Trickster's vision isn't single-type. It's a living radar. Emits waves, detects reflections. Higher resolution than sight within range. No color, of course.
That's why it was mentioned multiple times Trickster ignores dark environments.
Winter's disguise is special makeup—not altering features.
Add voice info, and it's enough, right?