-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Past (1): Preparing for the Deal, The Boy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The boy runs roughly on the treadmill. His heart pounds wildly. Sweat streams from his forehead down to his chest. In the vast training hall, there are only the boy and the trainer. The trainer, a cold man with his arms crossed, watches in a posture that's decidedly intimidating. The boy wants to stop, exhausted, but he keeps running, mindful of the trainer's gaze. It seems the time isn't up yet. The 15-minute interval feels endlessly long. It's unwelcome exercise. Exercise that can't possibly be welcome.
His wristwatch beeps. The trainer signals to stop.
"Enough. Move on to the next."
Huff, huff. The boy, slumped over the treadmill's handrail, is drenched in sweat. The sweat drops rolling from his forehead to his chin look just like tears. Lately, the boy has been feeling down a lot. He wonders if he's really crying. After running so hard and then stopping, the ground feels like it's still moving. As he dawdles, the trainer raises his voice. "Move on to the next!" It's almost like the old conscript army days. He'd heard from his father that the army back when it was mandatory had exactly this vibe. It's been a long time since it switched to volunteers, so even Dad's stories were probably secondhand.
The cycle of anaerobic and aerobic exercises repeats. It might look rough at a glance, but with sensors attached all over his body, the intensity is precisely controlled to avoid strain. Right now, only the trainer is here, but just beyond the wall, medical staff monitor everything. The trainer listens to them through the receiver in his ear. Even on the treadmill, they ensure he never exceeds 85% of his max heart rate. A blemish on their one and only merchandise would be a problem.
The merchandise, of course, is the boy's body.
Today's the last day of building his body through exercise. Everyone involved in this deal gets a bonus when it goes through successfully, and the trainer is no exception. It's the final day under his watch for "merchandise management," so even if his expression doesn't change, there's a subtle shake in his movements. Is he nervous? The boy has a knack for reading others' moods. He's not mistaken. But among it all, there's no sympathy, fondness, or concern directed at him.
Just the eyes of someone appraising merchandise.
It's sad how, ever since the deal was set, everyone he meets—even his parents—treats him like merchandise. He hoped at least his family wouldn't. After all, who is he sacrificing for...?
Maybe that's why the boy searches for warmth every time his eyes meet someone's. It's nowhere to be found. He hasn't found it yet, and it seems he never will.
The trainer is one of the longest he's seen among the merchandise handlers. He at least hoped for something different on their parting day.
Like a seizure, out of nowhere, the pent-up anger in his chest surges hot. It's happened since he was little. The boy empties his mind. The suppressed emotions rumbling at the bottom of his heart sink into the wave of silence brought by conscious quiet. They settle.
When the final training session ends, the boy bows his head in greeting.
"Thank you for everything. You've worked hard."
The trainer replies curtly.
"Take good care of yourself. You're expensive merchandise now."
"...Yes."
Even so, he hopes to be remembered with a smile on this last day. After all, the days when his body is truly his own, visible in others' eyes, aren't many. With that thought, the boy flashes the charming smile that won over his friends since childhood. He doesn't quite get it himself when he checks in the mirror, but people say it's something special.
The trainer flinches. The boy, who reads others' hearts with astonishing accuracy, watches closely but can't decipher this reaction. If only he could see his eyes—the trainer wears sunglasses.
In the end, he becomes someone the boy parts with without even knowing his name.
Names are so important.
He returns home, surrounded by a bunch of bodyguards, with the medical staff and family waiting. Home. It's unfamiliar—not the old place they used to live. It's big and tall. Hearing the car, a small figure darts out first to open the door. His little brother, who adores him, clings with a "Wah!" He's still too young to understand.
"Wah, big bro! Heehee!"
The boy scoops up his ten-years-younger brother. The kid startles, then beams with delight. His old self couldn't have done this, but the training has built his strength. Holding the somehow warm little body close, the boy smiles.
"Blue, been good?"
"Yeah! I ate lots like you said, listened to Mom and Dad and sis, and waited for you!"
"Good boy."
The family follows, greeting him with slightly awkward expressions. His parents act like guilty criminals. But beyond that shadow, their anticipation looms even larger, which disappoints the boy in multiple ways. His sister looks pale, a bit thinner too. She avoids his eyes. He senses her gratitude but wishes she'd look him straight. He wants her to remember.
Dad approaches, scratching his head. More boyish than the boy himself. In the sense that life's weight hasn't touched him. That was a good thing once—they were like friends. Far better than fathers who couldn't even manage that. But now...
The forty-something boy speaks to the young one.
"Welcome back. A week... right? Last day of training today?"
"Yes. Everything okay while I was gone?"
"What could happen to us? You're the important one. The pillar of the family."
"...Yeah."
Conversation stalls after that. An awkward silence settles. Like the air is pressing down, or unable to bear the mood, Mom steps in. She extends her hand.
"We were waiting to eat together. Come on in."
Taking her hand, he glances at his sister again as they enter. She avoids his gaze once more. But he sees her eyes reddening. The boy feels downcast. He tries not to show it. If he does, she'll really cry.
His sister was born in autumn, so they named her Autumn. He was born in winter, hence Winter. The youngest came in summer, named Blue for the clear sky. When he heard the reasons, he thought naming was too easy. Still, sis and bro's names were pretty. Winter felt cold. Lonely. That's in the past.
Just as promised, dinner is ready. But his portion is different. Having built his body with exercise, now it's about diet to regulate and balance internally. That's the medical staff's job while staying with the family. At least it's not just once-a-week visits like during training. For the past four months, he'd only seen family on Sundays.
Autumn's face darkens further. She used to bloom like a rose as a kid, then grew thorns, and now the flower seems wilted.
Since she grew up, she's handled all the cooking. Better than Mom. The feasts for his weekly visits were her doing too. The staff didn't ban her cooking but analyzed ingredients and limited his portions.
The boy born during a winter snowfall doesn't mind. For the next fortnight, until the deal closes, he can see family every day.
After dinner, the medical staff draws his blood. He sneaks a peek at their tablet's test items. Doesn't understand them anyway. Hematocrit, normal. MCV, normal. MCH, normal. VDRL, negative. Blood calcium, normal... All negative or normal, so nothing bad. He decides to think simply.
He craves talk, but long chats are tough. Parents' eyes drift elsewhere, hips fidgeting—they're clearly uncomfortable. Makes sense; the deal's illegal, selling their son's body by some lights. Winter tries lightening the mood with jokes, but Dad drops a bomb when it matters least.
"It's not all bad. So many young folks commit insurance fraud for post-life benefits before 65. Virtual reality games are a blast— you'll play till your brain gives out, and your friends will be green with envy. Best part? No studying, no college exams."
Winter forces a smile, but Autumn doesn't. She snaps furiously.
"What are you saying, Dad? He can never hold hands again, never hug! Playing forever sounds great? Why don't you sell your body then!"
"Autumn!"
Mom raises her voice. Less scolding, more aware of the watching medical staff—hold it in. Autumn grits her teeth, cheeks bulging, stares at her winter-born brother with teary eyes, then sets down her utensils and storms upstairs. Her fallen tear looks like a petal.
Dad brushes it off with "It's fine, it's fine." It's not. He spots the telltale signs of anger.
Does he even have the right to be mad? A stone rolls near his heart. A sound only he hears.
The winter-born boy spent his childhood cold. Mentally. His skill at reading hearts comes from Dad. He craved love and hurt from not understanding often.
Dad. Not bad, but impulsive. Can be a kid's friend, but snaps, tires, sulks like one too. No parental timber for respect. Great when affluent, but poverty tests the whole family.
Others, maybe. For Blue, it's too harsh. He's wide-eyed, startled. Pitiful.
Dad holds his temper for Winter's sake. Scared the boy might back out, withdraw consent.
Whole-body transplant. Once meant replacing everything below the neck when tech was primitive. Now, with advances, it's just brain and spinal cord—the thinking part.
Using a minor's body requires brain-death judgment and one month wait. In registered facilities, for legal applicants, by queue, post-rejection tests, at listed fees. So Winter's healthy body? Illegal.
Funny thing: even illegally, Comet Group's chairman insists on the donor's consent. His business ethic. Laws are flawed, he says. He scoffs at law but clings to his code.
So Dad, wanting to rage but can't, struggles with words. Filtering his gut for niceties is tough for an impulsive man.
"Listen, son. You know you can't waver over stuff like this, right? Uh, um... If you act irresponsible... the whole family'd be in a real bind."
Irresponsible? Winter silently counts inside. His habit of endurance. A jagged stone rolls heavy in his chest. Third time today. Too frequent. Shouldn't be. This lump's aged like him. He closes his eyes, pictures a snowy scene. Loneliness devours anger. Once calm, he shakes his head gently.
"Don't worry."
With that, Winter focuses on eating. Wants to check on sis, but the stone-faced medical staff overseeing can't be ignored. Contract terms. He must eat his share.
Think differently. Autumn's cooking. Delicious. Not many chances left.
He cleans his plate. Brushing, gargling, showering— all contractual duties. Keep the body pristine. Only after does he visit Autumn's room with Blue.
Autumn cries quietly. Blue glances between sis and bro, eyes welling. The age where others' tears set him off. Before Winter can soothe, Autumn pulls the youngest close. Wipes tears with a handkerchief, says she's fine now.
"It just hurt for a bit. All better, no big deal."
"Really? Sis not hurting now?"
"Yeah, really."
"Heehee."
Blue grins cutely.
Two beds in sis's room. Looks like Blue crashes here often. He has his own bed, of course. Contract money's nearly gone, but with final payment soon, why not? Mom bought another. From Winter's thrifty view, is this okay? He doesn't show it. Might sour the mood. Sure enough, a faint rumble near his heart. Not too big this time.
Blue gets sleepy post-meal at his age. The kid who smiled just being near now nods off. Winter strokes his head once. Autumn steps back to her bed's edge. Her gaze turns to Winter. Eyes meet. First time today.
Tears spill instantly from those eyes. The boy panics.
"Sis, what's wrong..."
He sits beside to wipe them, but she grabs his hand, sobbing bitterly. Sound muffled. Her trembling body leans, forehead to his chest. Pitiful shaking shoulders. Winter holds her still. Drip, drip. Water drops fall. Quiet sorrow. Sad, yet it fills a void. Specifically... the human warmth he'd sought desperately from others, but never found.
Her wet voice leaks out.
"What do we do... what can we do... Winter, you..."
"It's okay. We can talk on calls, meet in the lobby at the columbarium."
"..."
Autumn answers with her embracing arms.
How long they stay like that, a knock sounds.
"Bedtime soon. Come out."
One of the medical staff, a nurse. Businesslike.
In Winter boy's heart, the jagged stone stabs again.