HLSEBT - 47

47. Exploration 1

The back of the students’ heads came into view in the dim classroom, now transformed into something resembling a dark theater.  

According to Cheon Geonyoung, the codes changed periodically to avoid standing out among the shifting preferences of secondhand books that students favored each season.  

He explained that buyers were connected like a decentralized network—inform one person, and the information would spread naturally.  

Honestly, it was impressive how everyone’s minds worked so sharply in this area…  

Pretending to focus on the movie again, Yoon Taeha pulled out her phone and opened the company’s double-secured messenger platform.  

Scrolling through the chat window as if browsing the internet, she slowly typed out a message.  

[Yoon Taeha][2:20PM] How did you end up with such a big responsibility?  

Feeling the vibration, Cheon Geonyoung took out his phone and replied with an indifferent expression.  

[Cheon Geonyoung][2:21PM] I sold the company name a bit.  

[Yoon Taeha][2:22PM] CH Defense?  

[Cheon Geonyoung][2:23PM] I’ve handled similar deals before too.  

[Yoon Taeha][2:24PM] Why did you clear out the kiosk?  

[Cheon Geonyoung][2:25PM] When I made my presence known, they looked at me expectantly. I figured helping them then would make them open up.  

[Yoon Taeha][2:26PM] Wow, decisive.  

[Cheon Geonyoung][2:28PM] Thanks for the compliment.  

[Cheon Geonyoung][2:29PM] Keep it coming.  

She bit her lip hard to keep from laughing.  

What on earth was he saying?  

Undeterred, Cheon Geonyoung tapped confidently on his phone screen, looking as self-assured as someone who had left everything in capable hands.  

Awkwardly typing out “Good job” and sending it, she closed the messenger app and let her eyes slide shut like the students who had already drifted off to sleep.  

---

About 30 minutes before the movie ended, those who were going to fall asleep had already done so.  

Despite the film featuring orchestras and choirs—hardly conducive to sleep—everyone seemed to be sleeping soundly.  

Rather than waking the students, the music teacher even lowered the volume during the climactic scenes to avoid disturbing them.  

Hwang Sungbin, seated in the front row, shook his legs nervously before pretending to stretch his stiff neck and scanning the music hall.  

His gaze lingered slightly on the farthest corner of the room—a spot hidden behind a large pillar, nearly invisible without the faint glow of the screen.  

There sat Kwon Heesung, bathed intermittently in the pale light reflecting off his perfectly sculpted face, as if he belonged mounted on a wall in an art studio.  

Their eyes met briefly as Kwon Heesung glanced toward him indifferently. He gave a subtle nod, signaling the successful completion of the sample deal. Hwang Sungbin finally relaxed and straightened his posture.  

So that bastard was one of them too!  

The fantasies girls harbored about Kwon Heesung now seemed utterly ridiculous. Hwang Sungbin snorted. People were never what they seemed. Even someone who looked like a prince on a white horse turned out to be just another drug peddler.  

The only difference between them was experience and audacity.  

It was the kind of thought that might draw laughter from 120 people if overheard by 100, but that’s how Hwang Sungbin saw it.  

Thankfully, it was him who’d noticed Kwon Heesung lurking around after transferring to another Shelter, searching for the same opportunities.  

Kwon Heesung was useful.  

For one, he had money—enough to shove candy down the throats of arrogant Espers. Moreover, he seemed to have connections, ones Hwang Sungbin wouldn’t acquire even if he died and woke up again.  

〈After graduating from Shelter, are you planning to quit this line of work?〉  

〈Do you know anything?〉  

〈Someone close to me works at CH Pharmaceuticals. They can smuggle defective products from the factory—rejects from the manufacturing process.〉  

〈Security there is no joke. Are you sure this isn’t a scam?〉  

To assuage his doubts, Kwon Heesung showed him evidence, even promising to take him to the factory after vacation if he remained suspicious.  

〈How much do you sell these for here? The shelf life is short—40? 50 at most? And the higher-ups take a big cut. You’re the one doing all the work.〉  

Kwon Heesung’s low, chilling voice ensnared Hwang Sungbin’s mind like a spell.  

This guy was the real deal.  

Kwon Heesung had even provided intel on the new transfer student in G Class, suggesting they’d make a good new customer—the fresh mark hiding behind the pillar now.  

Given that about a third of G Class was already his clientele, it wasn’t surprising.  

Hwang Sungbin felt no guilt scraping Espers’ pockets. He fully agreed with Kwon Heesung’s proposition.  

Lately, there hadn’t been any directives from above, but the manufacturer was always a man of few words. Hwang Sungbin didn’t mind—he hated being told what to do anyway.  

It seemed the factory producing the goods would resume full operation after the vacation.  

He’d already received the sample candy over the weekend. Reconnecting with existing buyers, orders remained steady.  

Thanks to that, the few Guides he’d recently hired were kept busy. Though their part-time wages were a bit costly, Kwon Heesung had offered to handle that instead.  

He didn’t seem overly greedy. Hwang Sungbin hadn’t shared much with him yet—still verifying—but he felt he might have found a proper business partner.  

Watching the movie’s climax unfold, Hwang Sungbin dreamed of a brilliant future.  

When the movie ended, the students from G and T Classes dispersed like oil and water, never mixing.  

Kwon Heesung handed the book to Hwang Sungbin and headed toward the library.  

Flipping through it casually, Hwang Sungbin spotted the familiar-colored bills and smiled in satisfaction.  

Between the bills lay a torn piece of paper with the buyer’s handwritten name—an informal promise not to report them.  

〈Jeon Sung-ha〉  

After confirming the name, Hwang Sungbin headed to the recycling dumpster behind the building, out of reach of CCTV. Kim Soochan was waiting there.  

In exchange for delivering clueless marks, Kim Soochan took 10% of Hwang Sungbin’s share.  

“Jeon Sung-ha. A new customer from G Class, huh?”  

Kim Soochan scowled deeply.  

“…A transfer student?”  

“Maybe they only accept troublemakers like that into G Class.”  

“Figures. Something about her felt off.”  

The image of her elegant blue dobok struck Kim Soochan’s mind. Pretending to know nothing while secretly knowing everything, huh?  

“Tell Kangho to stop contacting me. I don’t have the goods yet.”  

“He contacted you directly? I told him to go through me every time, you idiot.”  

“He must be scared. Anyway, he’ll probably rank first again this time.”  

Hwang Sungbin chuckled, but Kim Soochan suddenly turned serious.  

“Hey. Do all kids who take as many drugs as Kwon Min-gi end up like that?”  

“And you’re asking a Guide this?”  

Kim Soochan pressed for an answer.  

“I don’t know. He’s not coming back anyway. He’s completely ruined. Once side effects show, we need to get rid of them so the marks keep buying.”  

Kim Soochan’s eyes darted sideways after hearing the response.  

---

Was the sampling strategy effective even here?  

After class, Yoon Taeha returned to the dorm, propped herself up on her bed with her legs crossed, and examined the lollipop carefully.  

Through her phone, Jet chimed in.  

- It looks exactly the same. However, the number of creases in the wrapper seems slightly fewer than the original product.  

“Now that you mention it, it does feel a bit different.”  

She summoned the company’s drone. Light and agile like a swallow carrying good fortune, it landed gracefully on her balcony—a familiar model often seen in hard-to-reach Cracks.  

“Please analyze it thoroughly. And prepare the antidote. As much as possible, as quickly as possible. Sorry to rush, but the market seems bigger than expected.”  

- Jet’s work is flawless. Don’t worry about delivery.  

- I’ll send the antidote via drone too. Seo Dojin has been busy lately.  

After ensuring the drone departed safely, Yoon Taeha filled the bathtub and climbed in.  

Attached to the dorm bathroom was a massive tub equipped with a bubble generator. Knowing some of her earnings went toward this amenity made her feel good about it.  

The water, initially scalding hot, gradually cooled to a pleasant warmth. She poured in the lavender-scented bath salts Hong Eunsoo had gifted her. Liking the scent, she’d been using it frequently lately.  

Placing her phone on the sink to keep it dry, she listened to Jet recount recent incidents like a radio broadcast.  

- The preliminary investigation team heading to the Green Sea has returned.  

Then came an intriguing story. She asked for more details.  

- Orcas are mining something.  

“Mining? Did an unreported dungeon appear?”  

- It seems so. The Green Sea doesn’t emit detectable energy, so Gaia couldn’t read it.  

“Are they mining gold? Or maybe they found some incredible weapon?”  

- Information about the mined substance hasn’t been collected yet.  

Sinking deeper into the rising steam, Yoon Taeha spoke softly.  

“You’re not withholding this because permission hasn’t been granted, right?”  

- That’s a question I can’t answer.  

“Damn Audit Bureau.”  

- That’s a question I can’t answer.  

A single drop of water fell from the faucet, creating ripples on the small surface. After watching the droplet for a while, Yoon Taeha buried her face in her palms. Her skin felt disjointed, as though her cheeks and palms were moving independently.  

Once this was over, she’d need to negotiate specific contract terms with Cheon Geonyoung—somehow.  

---

Two days later, on Friday, Jeon Sung-ha finally reached 70 demerit points.  

Even teachers who tried desperately to avoid giving students demerits couldn’t prevent it once they surpassed 60 points.  

“Is your guiding lacking?”  

The orbital proficiency teacher barely managed to stop her from uprooting a tree the principal liked and asked this.  

“No. I’m not hurt anywhere.”  

“Alright. For now, that’s your perspective. Let’s give up your free time on Saturday. Meditate lightly and come back—it might change things.”  

“Meditate?”  

“On Saturdays, excellent teachers visit H Building for mental training. Reflect there, calm yourself, okay?”  

There was no reason to refuse. Permission still hadn’t come through, and Kwon Min-gi was becoming a growing concern. She needed to enter legally, one way or another.  

Early Saturday morning, Yoon Taeha stood in front of H Building.  

Among Shelter’s vast grounds, comparable to a university campus, the volunteer unit was located in the most secluded area.  

H Building was a concrete block-like structure without a single window, heavily secured with multiple layers of protection.