HLSEBT - 46

46. Her Grandfather

The task Cheon Geonyoung had assigned her was nothing extraordinary.  

It was simple, requiring only a few taps on her phone. Thanks to that, Yoon Taeha completed her mission and spent the weekend relaxing.  

Perhaps being caught in the whirlwind of teenagers had drained more energy than she expected, because she ended up sleeping in late all weekend.  

Though she felt a twinge of self-loathing, her body felt lighter, and she didn’t feel too bad about it. Shelter’s communal living was optimized to sap people dry.  

Somewhere within this massive school program lurked the fervent will and soul of someone determined to thresh the spirits of adolescents so thoroughly that they wouldn’t have the energy for foolishness.  

Yoon Taeha found it creepy, though in a different way from how the North was creepy.  

And then came the much-anticipated day.  

The two were scheduled to meet under the guise of coincidence, using the school’s program. The meeting place was a vast music hall large enough to accommodate four classes’ worth of students.  

Once every two weeks, Guides and Espers attended one of the arts or physical education classes together.  

They’d either take gym class, music, or art together. The subject itself wasn’t important; what mattered was the “joint” class.  

Yoon Taeha sighed lightly as she held the thin music textbook against her chest.  

True to its purpose, the music hall boasted a sturdy stage that seemed capable of withstanding dozens of choir members stomping around without collapsing.  

Red curtains were tied neatly at the sides of the stage, but thick layers of dust had accumulated on the knots, evidence of long disuse.  

On the framed screens hanging beside the stage, an interview with the late Professor Yoon Jeonghoon played silently.  

The humble and unassuming old man who referred to everyone aboard the Ark as his family.  

There were Espers who genuinely regarded Yoon Jeonghoon as their father or grandfather. Some, like someone we know.  

But to Yoon Taeha, Professor Yoon wasn’t just a figurehead for lip service.  

He was truly her grandfather.  

This wasn’t some heartwarming story fit for a propaganda poster about how “we’re all one big family aboard this Ark.”  

She thought of herself merely as his granddaughter on paper. That term—family—was too warm, too soft, too encompassing to describe the bond between them.  

---

Yoon Taeha still vividly remembered the day he came to see her.  

It was raining.  

An elderly man wearing round glasses, coughing violently as if he might expel his lungs, yet with piercing eyes behind those lenses, had come to find her.  

The ground outside the rain-speckled window must have been muddy, but Professor Yoon was a man who didn’t need to tread such soggy paths. The bottom of his cane was spotless.  

Even as wild and untamed as she had been as a child, she wasn’t reckless enough to touch the cane of a stranger.  

That the cane’s base was clean was something she learned later for other reasons.  

“From today onward, you are my granddaughter.”  

With those words, Professor Yoon raised his pristine cane and gave a light push between the collarbones of the girl destined to become his granddaughter. Naturally, she stumbled backward from the surprise.  

The gaze beneath his glasses was starkly different from the kindly professor she’d seen in books and videos.  

“You must impress Professor Yoon. Only then can you live a long, healthy life.”  

That’s what the adults had told her. Every adult she trusted back then had said the same. What power could a five-year-old, whose entire world revolved around Shelter, possibly have had?  

Yoon Jeonghoon had one son and one daughter.  

She was placed under the son’s care.  

She didn’t know how the paperwork was forged; she’d never even seen the man and woman listed as her parents. How could she?  

All she knew was that Professor Yoon had friends in high places across society.  

Before meeting him, she believed she was a child rescued from an orphanage, with no family to speak of. Even after becoming someone’s granddaughter on paper, that fact hadn’t changed.  

The man listed as her father never visited the newly acquired daughter and died while traveling abroad.  

His body was cremated on-site, vanishing without a trace. He had contracted a highly contagious disease after being bitten by a grotesque creature that crawled out of a Crack.  

As for his wife—the woman listed as her mother—her whereabouts were unknown.  

Though clearly alive, she hadn’t shown up even at Professor Yoon’s funeral, suggesting she wanted nothing to do with this side of the family.  

Few people knew she was Professor Yoon’s granddaughter. Only the higher-ups in the Audit Bureau, the research wing, and Lee Haekyung were aware. More recently, Seo Dojin seemed to have picked up hints from Lee Haekyung.  

If anyone overheard, they might shout curses about divine retribution.  

But she hated Professor Yoon. She felt trapped in the grand plan of a grandfather she didn’t ask for.  

---

On the screen, Professor Yoon smiled warmly at the interviewer. That face—he had never once shown it to her.  

Sighing, she leaned her head against the plush backrest of the theater-style chair. In the distance, Kang Jinho and Kim Soochan shouted for her to join them.  

She ignored them with a cold expression.  

This noble project to cultivate artistic Espers bore the heavy influence of Professor Yoon.  

He had observed that certain Espers found stability through consistent practice—whether playing an instrument, painting, or moving their bodies.  

Self-control without the aid of a Guide.  

He valued that deeply.  

She was one of the Northerners placed under his special “care”—though she saw it as surveillance. Instruments and paints were lavished upon her, far beyond what she needed.  

Unfortunately, being tied to her grandfather triggered an incurable rebellious streak, so she hadn’t followed along obediently.  

She glared at the smiling face of Professor Yoon on the screen.  

Just then, the rear door opened, and a wave of chatter spilled in. The T Class students were arriving.  

In any case, she was a loner unless surrounded by Kang Jinho’s gang or Hong Eunsoo. And today, Hong Eunsoo had claimed to be unwell and stayed in the dorm.  

Her seating options were limited.  

As a polite signal for others to avoid sitting next to her, she placed her music book on the right and pencil case on the left. There were plenty of empty seats anyway.  

She trusted that anyone with decent social awareness—or anyone not maliciously intent on tormenting timid Espers—would pass her by.  

Students quickly scrambled to claim their favorite spots. Amid the commotion, she closed her eyes.  

Click. The sound of someone sitting beside her jolted her eyelids open, shattering her dream of a lonely yet comfortable future.  

She turned her head slightly to the left. The presence of the person seated next to her was so overwhelming it felt suffocating.  

“No seats left?”  

It was the man who, like her, had an extraordinary grandfather. She’d noticed before—he tied his necktie beautifully.  

Cheon Geonyoung stacked her teddy bear-shaped pencil case atop his textbook. Poor kidnapped teddy bear—it looked pitiful. It was one of the few personal belongings she’d brought to Shelter.  

After confirming the students had settled into their seats, Yoon Taeha spoke in a low voice.  

“Why’d you steal my teddy’s seat?”  

Woo Joo Han and Hwang Sungbin were seated near the stage, where a pillar obstructed their view of her corner. Especially her seat.  

“It’s less lonely with three.”  

Cheon Geonyoung delicately zipped up the half-open teddy bear, using his index finger to tilt its head down as if preparing it for a puppet show.  

Behind the smiling teddy bear, his face appeared. Blinking stupidly, she muttered,  

“Do you even know how old this thing is? It’s three years older than us.”  

“I’m sorry I didn’t know earlier,” he said apologetically, making the teddy bear bow on his behalf.

“They sure know how to play alone.”  

“Independence and dedication—those are the goals of our school’s founding.”  

Cheon Geonyoung leaned slightly toward her and whispered. It was a reference to the academy’s ethos. Yoon Taeha curled her body to the right and tilted her chin, signaling him to back off.  

Taking the hint, Cheon Geonyoung straightened himself, his lips curving into a deeper smile. Meanwhile, the music teacher entered.  

Her voice brimmed with unmistakable joy as she announced they’d be screening a music-related film today.  

A massive screen, the kind you’d see in a theater, descended from the ceiling. The lights dimmed. The sound system filled the expansive space with rich audio, showcasing just how high-quality the speakers were.  

Kids will be kids.  

The students began focusing intently on the classic film they’d likely seen at least three times since their lower years. No one paid attention to the transfer students sitting behind the pillar embedded in the music hall.  

About fifteen minutes passed as they watched the movie.  

Quietly, Cheon Geonyoung slipped something between her hands resting on the portable desk. It was a stick of candy.  

“……”  

Was this it? A sample enhancer.  

She picked it up and held it against the faint glow of the screen. It looked exactly like the ones she always bought. She knew them well—it was a snack so ordinary that if you didn’t pay attention, there was nothing suspicious about it.  

Meanwhile, Cheon Geonyoung began writing something on the blank last page of his textbook. It was an outline of the enhancer transaction process:  

- Buyer expresses intent to purchase.  

- Sample deal.  

- Payment made according to the broker’s instructions.  

- Delivery of the enhancer.  

He circled the phrase “sample deal,” indicating the stage they were currently at.  

On Friday evening, Cheon Geonyoung had instructed her to post a message on the Bamboo Forest secondhand marketplace.  

Yoon Taeha obediently followed his instructions, not missing a single word.  

〈Looking for well-annotated intermediate-level Cracks Breakthrough case studies / Prefer grades 4.0–5.0 / In-person transaction / Will offer extra payment for certified graduating seller’s grades〉  

Posts like these often appeared on Shelter’s secondhand marketplace.  

They involved buying and selling textbooks or problem books with detailed annotations from seniors.  

While not quite “cheat sheets,” these materials contained tips or areas for improvement from seniors who had already tackled Cracks Breakthrough missions, making them invaluable to juniors. The more exclusive the information—details you couldn’t obtain without entering the field—the higher the price.  

It mirrored adult society. Companies and organizations would go wild over information about Cracks and monsters.  

Cheon Geonyoung showed her the 〈Intermediate Cracks Breakthrough Case Study〉 hidden under his music book.  

She took it and pretended to examine it closely. The annotations were atrocious, but that was irrelevant—it was all for show.  

Yoon Taeha slipped a few pre-prepared bills into the book along with a handwritten note bearing her name.  

The room was dark, and no one was paying attention to them.  

After retrieving the book, Cheon Geonyoung casually covered the now-cancelled transaction material with his music book.  

This feels so wrong. A sigh escaped her lips.  

What expression would Professor Yoon wear if he saw his institution reduced to a nest of corrupted little angels?