HLSEBT - 55

55. Fire 3

The principal couldn’t take Kwon Min-gi with him.  

He desperately tried to persuade the medical staff and employees dispatched from Yeouido, but they paid no heed.  

The unconscious Kwon Min-gi would receive emergency treatment from the medical team and then be loaded into the ambulance personally prepared by the Center Director.  

Cheon Geonyoung lied smoothly, using the broken CCTV as an excuse to omit the fact that he had immunity to flames from his account.  

Thanks to the sprinklers conveniently activating at the right moment, he claimed he had subdued Kwon Min-gi without any damage. His voice betrayed not a single tremor.  

Yoon Taeha listened to the situation through the communication device shared by the employee from Yeouido. Since she wasn’t officially revealed as an agent, she naturally had to leave the scene first.  

The communication ended with the sound of the employees firmly dismissing the principal.  

The anchor asked if she should continue providing updates on the situation later. For the first time in a long while, Yoon Taeha chose “No.”  

Considering her nature of seeing things through from start to finish, this was a rare occurrence.  

The veteran anchor, expecting her to choose “Yes,” stumbled over their next line before awkwardly ending the communication—a rare sight indeed.  

She rose from leaning against the corridor wall far from the fire’s aftermath.  

Her cheeks still felt warm from the heat. She covered her unobstructed eyes with the back of her hand, pressing down firmly.  

Her glasses were neatly tucked away in their case inside her bag. Having no spares, she’d preemptively stored them to protect them from the flames—hence why there was no footage after she encountered Kwon Min-gi and Cheon Geonyoung.  

Perhaps it was for the best.  

There shouldn’t be any records of him being swallowed by flames.  

Setting aside questions about his constitution, such footage would have been a vulnerability for Yoon Taeha—something that could easily be exploited by those seeking to use her.  

Just look at how her heart was still racing.  

The crimson flames. The viscous malice. The acrid smell and swirling black smoke.  

She gritted her teeth, driving her nails into her palm to suppress the image of someone else’s face superimposing over Cheon Geonyoung’s.  

The force she used tore her palm slightly, though it healed instantly thanks to her self-recovery ability—no scars left behind.  

Her decision to approach Kwon Min-gi first and provide emergency care was also to conceal the small bloodstain left on her index finger. It had to look like someone else’s blood.  

“Overload your body.”  

“Survival and recovery are your top priorities. That’s how your body operates.”  

“It’s not a bad choice to bury yourself in work.”  

These were the words a respected researcher at the Center had told her when she was plagued by nightmares after the death of her Guide.  

As if implying that this prescription was perfect for someone like her, who didn’t respond well to medication and had no one she loved.  

She knew it wasn’t a proper solution, but she’d pushed through crises this way—because tomorrow always felt more urgent, because she had work to do.  

She looked down at the palm she’d pressed over her eyes.  

It was a place that had been cut, torn, and battered countless times, yet it appeared flawless on the surface—smooth and soft. It healed without giving her time to reflect on the wounds.  

She couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse.  

It was something she’d never voiced aloud, fearing it might make other Espers uneasy.  

Before emotions overwhelmed her, she moved forward.  

The mission was still ongoing.  

People and time wouldn’t wait for her, no matter how far she could leap.  

She couldn’t count how many things she’d missed that way. She didn’t want to add this incident to the list.  

Occasionally glancing up at the ceiling, Yoon Taeha stopped at a certain point while swiftly passing through the corridor.  

Tilting her head back, she saw a large ventilation grille above her. Her gaze sharpened as she peered beyond the gridded passage.  

It was dawn now; most of the students were asleep.  

After checking that no one was around, she spoke clearly.  

“Come down while you still have the chance.”  

Even if it looked like she was talking to thin air, she didn’t care.  

“Ever heard of extenuating circumstances?”  

Sensing the invisible presence, Yoon Taeha repeated herself with a weary expression.  

“Hong Eunsoo.”  

“…”  

“You’re not wearing anything on your face right now. I won’t report this to the company—I have that authority.”  

No sooner had she finished speaking than a mini-drone, about the size of two fingers placed together, popped out of the vent.  

Yoon Taeha recognized the camera. Without smiling, she waved her hand, causing the drone to wobble uneasily.  

- Follow me.  

The drone led her to an outdoor training ground equipped with pull-up bars and push-up stands arranged in a row.  

There stood Hong Eunsoo, her hood pulled low over her face.  

Hong Eunsoo, who had been sitting on a bench, shot up as if she’d seen a monster emerging from a crack upon spotting Yoon Taeha.  

“You were here? Since when?”  

Yoon Taeha pointed to the tip of her hair peeking out from under her hood. Hong Eunsoo hastily stuffed it back inside.  

As Yoon Taeha approached, Hong Eunsoo reflexively gripped the button in her pocket that could command the drone to attack.  

This was the same person she’d played badminton with every morning!  

Despite her impressive spinal erector muscles and slender waistline, she hadn’t been great at badminton—turns out it was all part of her act as an undercover agent!  

Caught in this strange misunderstanding, Hong Eunsoo spoke with a trembling voice.  

“You’re from the company, right?”  

“I asked first.”  

“Tell me first.”  

“You saw it, didn’t you? Though I don’t know from where.”  

“From when you—or, Agent, when you used a kit on Min-gi.”  

Really? Yoon Taeha narrowed her eyes. Her expression wasn’t much different from when she lived in G Class. But Hong Eunsoo, overwhelmed by the label of an external agent, found it intimidating.  

The transfer student who caused chaos in the East and the formal agent investigating the Shelter carried entirely different weights.  

“It really started from there! The footage stored in the drone begins from when you passed by Agent Kwon Heesung!”  

Hong Eunsoo pointed to the small drone that proudly blocked the space between her and Yoon Taeha.  

“This guy arrived at the scene earlier than me… What I personally saw was you checking Kwon Min-gi’s condition. Really!”  

“I see.”  

Hong Eunsoo’s eyes widened at Yoon Taeha’s casual acceptance.  

“You… believe me?”  

“Yeah.”  

“Just like that?”  

“Yeah.”  

“…Why?”  

“So you’re the type to twist things and overthink, huh?”  

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Hong Eunsoo gnawed on her lips.  

Yoon Taeha perched herself on a bar at a comfortable height. Lifting her toes, she felt the precariousness of almost tipping backward, as if slightly detaching from gravity.  

“You rushed here to save your friend. Even though you barely know who I am, you showed your face.”  

“…”  

“Aren’t you an intelligence-type Esper? You must’ve calculated all the risks before coming.”  

What Woo Joo Han had said, why Hong Eunsoo approached Hwang Sungbin, her days of lying low, and above all, her expressions.  

Being an intelligence-type meant being smart—it didn’t mean excelling at hiding one’s emotions. Of course, there were Espers in that category with exceptional talent for it, but…  

Hong Eunsoo was still young. It was clear she wasn’t faking it.  

The fact that she was openly gripping the drone control button in her pocket proved it. If her silhouette was so visible, it defeated the purpose. If Yoon Taeha wanted, she could just break her hand first.  

Yoon Taeha decided she’d definitely need to talk to her about that once she calmed down.  

“So…”  

After a brief hesitation, Hong Eunsoo mustered the courage to speak.  

“Did you really come here because of the drugs?”  

“You already know? Amplifiers.”  

“…Kwon Min-gi mentioned it once.”  

“Did he invite you to try it together?”  

“No!”  

Hong Eunsoo immediately denied it, then worried if her voice had been too loud. Yoon Taeha waved her hand dismissively, signaling her to continue her statement.  

“It was during winter break last year, during a special class on dungeon plants and emergency medicine preparation.”  

“That’s a good class.”  

“…The teacher’s kind of a nutcase, but anyway. That’s when Kwon Min-gi asked for a favor.”  

It seemed she was indeed Kwon Min-gi’s closest friend. New information flowed effortlessly.  

“He gave me a pill and asked if I could make an antidote with opposite properties.”  

“So you knew it caused an overload.”  

Hong Eunsoo’s eyebrows drooped. They had shot up excitedly when teasing her friend after a badminton loss.  

Yoon Taeha felt a pang of sympathy. She prided herself on understanding better than anyone how bonds between Espers in the Shelter impacted their lives.  

“He kept saying his memory was disappearing. One day he woke up and couldn’t remember his friends’ names. Another day, all the content he’d memorized for the fungal exam was gone.”  

“So his grades dropped?”  

“I think so. He wasn’t as smart as me, but he wasn’t dumb either… The drug was the problem.”  

“Did you analyze it yourself?”  

Hong Eunsoo’s previously gloomy eyes suddenly sparkled with curiosity.  

“That’s illegal!”  

“The vine plant?”  

“Yes… How did you know? Did you analyze it?”  

“I read the report from Yeouido. I don’t know how to do that kind of thing.”  

“Oh.”  

Hong Eunsoo nodded in agreement, making a silly sound. Yoon Taeha gave her a faint smile.  

Beyond the ridgeline, the sun began its ascent, casting a pale light that brushed against her forehead and nose.  

Hong Eunsoo momentarily traced the light with her eyes.  

Come to think of it, I initially wanted to befriend the transfer student because she was pretty.  

This realization hit Hong Eunsoo like an electric shock. With the added context of her being a formal agent, a mysterious aura seemed to settle in the background.  

“You dress better than this normally.”  

Yoon Taeha tilted her head slightly. Hong Eunsoo, realizing her mouth had been hanging open, quickly closed it and added, “No, no, I didn’t mean that.”  

“The vine plant. Shall we start again?”  

Hong Eunsoo nodded and began speaking.