HLSEBT - 59

59. His Grandfather 2

In a panic, he soaked a blanket in water and threw it over himself, retreating as far as possible into a corner to avoid the flames.  

There was no balcony to escape to, and the skylight on the ceiling was out of reach. He could hear his tutors screaming outside the burning building.  

Perhaps they didn’t even know he was still inside. Grabbing the thickest book from the shelf, he began pounding on the wall.  

Thud. Thud. After banging forcefully for a while, he hurled the book into the flames in frustration.  

“Like anyone would hear that.”  

The fire hungrily devoured the book, swaying as if asking for more.  

So he waited to die. Breathing rapidly to hasten the process, hoping for a quick end.  

Being burned alive seemed too painful.  

Soon, his chest grew heavy, his vision blurred, and tears streamed down his face as he coughed uncontrollably.  

Clinging to the now-dry blanket, he collapsed to the floor just as part of the burning bookshelf toppled toward him with a loud crack.  

“Please let me die without pain.”  

With that prayer, he braced himself for the fiery debris. Sparks rained down on the blanket like crimson snowflakes. Eyes tightly shut, he lay there for what felt like an eternity until something strange registered in his mind.  

Reaching out tentatively, he realized the blanket had burned away, leaving only ashes.  

“But… it doesn’t hurt?”  

Curiosity overpowering fear, he opened his eyes—and immediately regretted it.  

There was no safe space left; everything around him was engulfed in flames. Rising to his feet, he instinctively ran toward the bathroom but stopped abruptly before crossing the threshold.  

His head drooped slightly as flames licked at his bare feet. Like prey pinned by a predator, unable to escape.  

“I’m stepping on fire, but I’m fine? My hair’s intact. My clothes too. I definitely got hit by falling debris from the bookshelf, yet no burns…”  

Driven by a second wave of curiosity, he approached the staircase leading downstairs. Flames continuously brushed against his legs as he moved, yet he felt no pain.  

Clenching his jaw, he pressed his hand against the fiery wall, calculating that if this was hell, it wouldn’t hurt anyway.  

And his calculation was correct.  

The fire didn’t burn him.  

Cheon Geonyoung bolted down the stairs, which resembled hell itself.  

Amidst the wreckage of the crumbling mansion, he alone remained unscathed. A strange sense of liberation and exhilaration surged within him for the first time.  

Deliberately, he plunged back into the inferno, breaking through thick black smoke. It was warm, but not unbearably so.  

Reaching the living room on the first floor, he hurried toward the entrance to signal his safety to the teachers—after meticulously checking each room along the way to ensure no one was left behind.  

But halfway down the long hallway leading to the front door, he stopped abruptly upon encountering someone unexpected.  

“Grandfather?”  

Chairman Cheon, holding a removed picture frame, slowly turned his body. Cheon Geonyoung, momentarily forgetting that this was the first word he’d spoken in a year, looked up at the man standing at the end of the fiery path.  

Upon spotting him, Chairman Cheon’s eyes widened slightly. The man known as the Fire Tiger—the deep wrinkles etched into his face briefly flickered with emotion before returning to their usual stoic state.  

Chairman Cheon walked through the flames toward him.  

Not a single thread of his clothing was singed, and he carefully took in the sight of his unharmed grandson.  

Without lowering himself to meet his grandson’s eye level, he stiffly straightened his back and said:  

“It’s time to go home.”  

Holding the picture frame in one hand, Chairman Cheon grasped his grandson’s still-growing hand with the other.  

Thus, Cheon Geonyoung held his grandfather’s hand and emerged from the inferno.  

He thought it was all a dream—a fabrication born from his longing for his parents.  

When he woke up, he’d surely be lying alone in the attic again. It was unimaginable, even in dreams, that his grandfather would come for him.  

But it wasn’t a dream. Cheon Geonyoung awoke in Chairman Cheon’s mansion.  

The chairman’s most trusted personal physician examined him thoroughly.  

Chairman Cheon kept the fact of Cheon Geonyoung’s fire immunity a secret from the rest of the family.  

There was no need to sternly warn his grandson not to reveal it; Cheon Geonyoung already understood it wasn’t something to share freely.  

“This is strange. Geonyoung isn’t an Esper.”  

The doctor spoke those words in the examination room. Chairman Cheon, without questioning further, simply took his grandson and left.  

Not long after showing his grandson to an ordinary doctor, Chairman Cheon brought him to a heavily guarded research facility.  

“Nice to meet you, Geonyoung.”  

This adult, clad in a soft shirt and cozy vest, wearing slippers instead of formal shoes, showed no sign of intimidation despite Chairman Cheon’s piercing gaze.  

Mysterious Espers, whose names and identities were shrouded in secrecy, escorted the two to this man’s office.  

Leaning casually against his desk was a cane polished to a gleaming shine.  

Chairman Cheon introduced Professor Yoon Jeonghun in a tone devoid of emotion.  

“I wanted to meet Geonyoung in person.”  

Yoon extended his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Cheon Geonyoung shook it, startled by the unexpectedly strong grip. Beyond silver-rimmed glasses, his dark eyes seemed almost inhuman.  

Eyes that sought to read something.  

From the moment he learned of his fire immunity, every white-coated adult had looked at him with similarly probing eyes.  

“Professor Yoon.”  

Sensing his grandson’s subtle attempt to pull away, Chairman Cheon intervened.  

Smiling kindly, Professor Yoon released the handshake and handed Cheon Geonyoung a piece of candy.  

Does he think I’m a child?  

At eleven, Cheon Geonyoung thought as much while busily unwrapping the candy and popping it into his mouth.  

Under Professor Yoon’s guidance, Cheon Geonyoung had to undergo various tests inside strange, unfamiliar machines scattered throughout the lab.  

Though he didn’t intend to rely on anyone, entering a rectangular tank filled with green liquid made him uncomfortable, prompting a quick glance at his grandfather.  

Instead of saying the tests weren’t necessary, Chairman Cheon stepped forward slightly, bringing himself closer to observe his grandson. That was enough for Cheon Geonyoung.  

The tests weren’t painful, but their purpose was unclear, making each one suspicious.  

“Let’s wait and see the results.”  

With those words, Professor Yoon bid them farewell.  

On the ride home, Cheon Geonyoung mustered the courage to ask:  

“What are good results?”  

Chairman Cheon answered only after a long pause.  

“Becoming healthier.”  

The boy looked at his grandfather, but for the rest of the journey, Chairman Cheon treated his grandson as if he weren’t there.  

The results were inconclusive.  

When they met again, Professor Yoon handed Cheon Geonyoung several bottles of pills that looked difficult to swallow, claiming they would improve his health.  

“I’m already healthy.”  

“These are for your future health.”  

Professor Yoon patiently answered every question Cheon Geonyoung posed—questions he couldn’t ask his grandfather.  

Over time, Cheon Geonyoung began looking forward to visiting Professor Yoon’s lab. Though the tests were unpleasant, he enjoyed the stories Yoon told and the freedom to browse his vast library.  

“Will I live like this forever?”  

He asked during their seventh meeting.  

By then, Cheon Geonyoung was thirteen and had grown familiar enough with the place to spot rookie researchers’ mistakes.  

“Are the tests boring? Do the pills taste bad?”  

“Not boring, exactly. They just seem meaningless.”  

“Not at all, Geonyoung.”  

Professor Yoon often walked with Cheon Geonyoung through the quiet lab. It felt even quieter when the two strolled together.  

Carrying a book gifted by Yoon, Cheon Geonyoung stopped along a path lined with hydrangeas.  

To his right stood a wall five times taller than him—not man-made, but as if it had existed long before any buildings were constructed. Though he saw it often, it never failed to unsettle him.  

Thankfully, lush blue hydrangeas softened the bleakness of the gray wall, filling the void with summer vibrancy.  

“Do you want me to become an Esper?”  

“May I ask what made you think that?”  

“People complain that none of Grandfather’s children are Espers.”  

Chairman Cheon’s eldest and second sons were ordinary humans. His third son, Cheon Dong-woo, was a Guide—far from what people expected of the chairman’s lineage.  

Perhaps Grandfather wants me to gain superpowers.  

At thirteen, Cheon Geonyoung reasoned thus.  

“Are you turning me into an Esper under Grandfather’s orders?”  

Are you conducting unauthorized experiments on me, violating countless laws?  

Though phrased differently, Professor Yoon didn’t react angrily to the provocative question from the thirteen-year-old.  

“Chairman Cheon gave no such order.”  

“I saw the news. Some people want to artificially create Espers to build their own armies.”  

Standing before the unusually vivid blue hydrangeas, Professor Yoon turned his body slightly.  

“That’s impossible. This comes from the person who has written and reviewed the most books on Espers.”  

“So I’ll never burn, then?”  

“In my humble opinion, it seems likely. But I wouldn’t recommend becoming reckless because of it…”  

Gazing back at the hydrangeas, he spoke in a dreamy voice.  

“There’s still much we haven’t conquered.”  

And so, the seventh visit ended.