Passion Novel - Volume 2 - Chap 56: Hidden Track

The Weight of Expectations

As a child, I genuinely believed I was a genius. From my ignorant early years through middle school, high school, and university, I never encountered anyone more capable than myself. In truth, this wasn’t a self-proclaimed genius, but rather a consensus among those around me.

Humans are creatures shaped by how they are perceived, and from before I even knew better, people would look at me with astonished faces, praise me with great delight, and unanimously declare that such a prodigy would never be seen again. And so, I truly became that person.

I excelled in academics and sports, and I was adept at navigating life. I knew how to achieve my desires with ease; one could say I was a cunning child. Fortunately, my family had the financial means to provide sufficient gifted education for a child hailed as a prodigy. Thus, I was able to fully unleash my talents and potential.

Soon, I grew weary of competing with my peers in my environment. Battling them was simply too one-sided and lacked any real challenge. Around that time, I learned about an organization for gifted education abroad. Hearing about this place, where only the most renowned prodigies went, I knew it was where I belonged. My parents and everyone who knew me agreed. So, with a swelling heart, I embarked on a solo journey of study abroad at a young age, leaving my family behind.

And the result? I came to terms with reality. In reality, I was still a genius. I adapted wonderfully there and soon achieved above-average results. However, it was only “above average.” I was a genius in reality, but not a genius there. I was merely a smart child.

My youthful arrogance shattered into a million pieces, and there, I learned how an average genius like myself adapted to reality. It was an incredibly useful process. Only then did I make friends, engage in conversations without feeling stifled, and meet people who understood me beyond my family. Looking back, it was the most valuable experience of my life up to that point.

While not a world-changing genius, I was outstanding enough to be the pride of my family. When I entered a prestigious overseas university with little difficulty and at a younger-than-average age, my older brother, who had practically raised me in place of our father who passed away early, cried tears of joy.

My brother and I had an excellent relationship. He was already an adult when I was young, not just because of our age difference. His mind matured early; he was always grown-up and possessed sound judgment. He made correct decisions, even if not quickly. I can’t express how much I loved and looked up to him.

However, he had one fatal biological flaw. Unfortunately, it was something we only discovered after he got married: he had difficulty conceiving a child. It would be more accurate to say he was unable to have children. But my brother and sister-in-law deeply yearned for a child, and eventually, they asked for my help. I readily agreed. And so, about a year later, my brother and sister-in-law were able to have a child.

Biologically, it might have been my child, but no one saw it that way. And neither did I, of course. My brother offered to give me one of the children, but I had absolutely no intention of accepting. Still don’t. Those children were solely my brother and sister-in-law’s.

Yet, what a person perceives once is not easily changed. Even if one thinks it has changed, that thought often remains unconsciously buried deep down.

Though not the world’s greatest genius, I graduated from a world-renowned, top-tier university without any difficulty and immediately joined UNHRDO. Anyone would consider this excellent, and I secretly thought so too.

However, around that time, I experienced my second taste of frustration in life. It was the second time I truly believed I wasn’t a genius, but in fact, just an ordinary person. My brother’s children were twins, and the elder one was a child who couldn’t even be described as a genius.

I would occasionally return home during breaks to see my nephews for short periods. It wasn’t until they were about four or five years old, coinciding with my university graduation, that I was able to live with them for about a month. And during that month, I felt frustrated with my own abilities and talents because of a child who was barely four or five years old.

I won’t elaborate on how much of a genius my elder nephew was. Suffice it to say, he was a child who made it easy to assume I wouldn’t encounter another genius like him in my lifetime. Fortunately, my brother raised him well, so my nephew wasn’t arrogant or conceited like I was in my childhood. Perhaps true geniuses don’t even bother with such things; after all, those at the top of any world always see things differently from those below.

The younger nephew, the twin of the elder, was an ordinary child. His only flaw was his weak constitution, and I often carried him to the hospital during my breaks. But as he grew, he quickly became a healthy and clever child. He was also a lovable child.

I loved both my nephews, but in terms of sheer intrigue, the younger one simply couldn’t compare to the elder. The elder nephew, and I’m tired of saying it now, was a genius unlike any other. I was already so accustomed to it that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had rattled off the chemical equation for a hydrogen-neutron bomb at that age. Moreover, beyond his brain, he was incredibly lucky. This was truly inexplicable.

He was smart, lucky, good-natured, and came from a harmonious family. Thinking what a blessed life he led, I spent quite a bit of time with him. This was possible only because I was the most capable person among those around him. Then, after about a month, I had to leave again to join UNHRDO.

I had a friend. We met at the gifted education institution and had known each other ever since. He was similar to me—an average genius. He quickly abandoned the labels of “genius” and “prodigy,” graduated from university, and with his father’s support, started a company. It was a company specializing in the reprinting of old books, which, by its very description, sounded destined for failure. However, my friend was wealthy enough that losing one or two small companies wouldn’t be an issue. His family dealt in arms brokering. One day, he would have to take over the family business.

He was a friend who loved books, but he also possessed extensive knowledge of weapons, enough to seamlessly take over the family business. As I was at UNHRDO at the time, I often discussed weapons with him.

It was then, when my frighteningly intelligent nephew was still a fresh young child, not yet even in middle school, that I saw a drawing and some writing he had carelessly doodled in a practice notebook. The drawing skill was crude, but the content of the drawing was the internal design of a machine gun. Moreover, detailed specifications were meticulously written next to it, so much so that one could create a new type of machine gun simply by using that paper.

When I asked, surprised, my nephew replied with a bored expression that he had simply thought of it out of boredom, and that I could take it, burn it, or do whatever I wanted with it.

I was not just surprised, but thrilled. He hadn’t copied or traced anything. He had conceived and calculated, simply out of boredom, how a weapon was structured and how ammunition functioned through chemical reactions. And that machine gun was groundbreakingly different from existing ones.

I immediately faxed that drawing to my closest friend, the one who was already doing a spectacular job of running his old book reprinting business into the ground. Naturally, he too recognized the value of the drawing and, greatly excited, immediately asked me to come to his house to discuss it after seeing the drawing in person.

So, I went straight to my friend’s house. But throughout that process, while I was incredibly delighted, amazed, and even terrified by my nephew’s genius, I couldn’t help but feel an underlying, unshakeable sadness.

***

My friend’s house was a mansion. It was a sprawling, luxurious estate, like something out of a movie, where you’d have to drive from the main gate to the front door. Though I was never in want financially, it was my first time visiting such an opulent home, and I looked around with a sense of wonder.

Even standing before the grand entrance after getting out of the car, I was simply in awe. So, I was looking around, waiting for someone to come greet me.

That’s when it happened.

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from the side of the mansion, and a large boy, seemingly fourteen or fifteen years old, came running from the garden, crying. My eyes widened. The child was covered in wounds. No, “covered in wounds” was an understatement; his limping leg was badly sprained and swollen, and his arm was so severely injured that I wondered if a bone was broken, blood gushing from it. His head seemed to be cut open, too, as blood soaked his hair and even the bruised skin above his eyes, like a boxer’s. As I stared, dumbfounded, wondering if I had stumbled upon a scene of child abuse, another boy ran out after him. This boy was slightly smaller than the first. However, his slender limbs, uncharacteristic of a child, made him seem more like an adolescent.

But I was shocked to see this boy. With an expressionless face, he held a hammer in his hand. It was a construction-grade hammer, at least three or four times larger than a typical household one. And this boy strode purposefully toward the first boy who had run out, then, with a completely nonchalant expression, swung the hammer. And I heard that same horrific scream again.

As I stood frozen by the unexpected sight, an older man rushed out of the house and began to restrain and admonish the boy. The boy’s face showed his displeasure. The look he gave the man, indicating he was being interrupted, was so fierce that I wondered if he was considering just striking this man with the hammer too.

Having been born and raised in a peaceful world, I wondered where such a savage child had come from, my eyes wide. Just then, my friend emerged from the house. He saw me, happily greeted me, and told me to come in, but then his gaze fell upon the boy, and he immediately looked troubled.

“Ilay, you did it again.” My friend sighed, muttering to the boy. The boy, called Ilay, wiped the blood splatters from his face and spoke indifferently.

“Well, he shouldn’t just call my name without permission.”

“Names are meant to be called.”

“I clearly said to call me by my surname. Only people I allow can call my name.”

As he spoke, the boy suddenly turned his gaze to me, scrutinizing me from head to toe with dissatisfied eyes. My friend sighed again and introduced the boy to me.

“Changin, this is my younger brother. He’s ten this year. There’s quite an age gap, but he’s definitely my brother. His name is what you just heard, but don’t call him that. My brother has some quirks; just call him by his surname. —-Ilay, this is my friend, Jeong Changin. You mustn’t treat him disrespectfully.”

I was astonished. I was surprised that this ferocious child was my friend’s brother, surprised that such a young child was the brother of my friend, who was nearing thirty, and surprised that he was only ten, when he looked fourteen or fifteen at most. Of course, what surprised me most was his cruel violence. But the boy threw down the hammer and, as if he had never been so vicious, calmly gave a slight nod and went into the house. I, still bewildered, followed my friend inside.

***

“Excellent. Truly… unbelievable.” Those were the first words my friend uttered after examining the blueprint thoroughly for a long time. I could certainly understand his sentiment. I, too, initially couldn’t believe it and even suspected that another child or engineer might have drawn it.

“You said this child is your nephew, right? How old is he?”

“Twelve. No, wait, if you count by their age system, he’d be ten.”

“Ten!”

My friend shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. He even gave me a reproaching glance as if I were lying, but I had nothing to hide. My friend seemed to realize that everything I said was true, as he only sighed after that.

“Ten.”

“Yes. Just ten.”

My friend suddenly studied my face. I still don’t know what expression I had. But my friend, seeing something on my face, gently reached out and patted my shoulder.

“Don’t feel sorry, my friend. Everyone lives according to what they’re given.”

I just looked at him. I couldn’t tell what he saw on my face, but I nodded. As I sat opposite my friend in the drawing room, glumly staring at the blueprint, the boy from earlier, who had been reading a book some distance away, ambled over. His bored demeanor resembled a hungry lion looking for something delicious.

“Hmm. Are you the one who drew this?” the boy asked me, scrutinizing the blueprint. I was slightly surprised by his blunt tone and shook my head with a smile.

“No. My nephew. He’s the same age as you. …Riegrow.” I mentioned the surname, which I rarely used even when addressing my friend, and subtly glanced at the boy. The boy looked at the blueprint as if it were an interesting toy and muttered, “Amazing.” It was surprising that a boy his age would find that blueprint amazing.

“Changin. Could we perhaps talk to your nephew on the phone?” My friend, seemingly very interested in the blueprint, requested. I hesitated for a moment but finally nodded. It was already commonplace for my elder nephew to receive calls from strangers for academic reasons.

When I agreed, my friend was delighted and quickly prepared the phone. I picked up the receiver to call my brother’s house. Just then, the boy, who had been looking at the blueprint with interest, looked directly at me and said in a bold voice that he wanted to make the call himself.

I looked at my friend, who shrugged resignedly, then excused himself to me and allowed his brother to make the call. After a few words, he told him to hand over the phone. As the dial tone sounded, my friend suddenly remembered and pressed the phone’s speaker button. The dial tone then played through the speakerphone.

And soon after, someone answered the phone.

‘Hello.’

It was my younger nephew’s voice. The boy seemed slightly flustered by the unfamiliar language, and I told him that English would work. Because of the elder nephew, the children often traveled abroad from a young age, so they could speak English as their native language. The boy cocked his head slightly and spoke in English.

“Hello. Are you Jaei?”

At that, the younger nephew, perhaps surprised by the sudden English, was silent for a moment before slowly replying.

‘No, brother’s not here right now. Mom and Dad and brother went to the research lab for tests, and I’m alone. Who are you?’

That innocent voice made me laugh without realizing it. I thought that next time I came home, I would have to admonish my nephew not to say such things to strangers when he was alone.

My friend, perhaps thinking similarly, smiled faintly, and the boy, who despite being the same age, seemed much more worldly than my nephew, advised him quite maturely with an incredulous look.

“You shouldn’t tell just anyone that you’re alone if you’re a child. You don’t even know who’s calling.”

‘Why? You’re in America. Mom and Dad and brother will all be back before you get here.’

My nephew’s voice was a bit triumphant. He seemed to think that speaking in English automatically meant he was in America. The boy frowned and glared at me, as if asking why I’d raised a child to be so foolish. I shrugged, feigning ignorance.

“This isn’t America, it’s Germany. And your next-door neighbor could call you in English, couldn’t they?”

‘No. My next-door grandma can’t speak English. Neither can the grandpa next door. Hmm… but the auntie who sometimes visits might be able to. I’ll definitely ask her next time she comes.’

“Uh-huh. You absolutely must check that kind of thing.” Only after this stern admonition did the boy seem to realize his mistake. His expression said, “This isn’t what I meant to talk about.” The boy seemed to lose interest in the phone call, but perhaps because he was bored being alone, my brother-in-law started rambling.

‘But where’s Germany? Are you in Germany? Then you can’t come here? Is it farther than America? I’m bored right now, come visit. My name is Taeui. Jeong Taeui.’

The boy, looking a bit overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, stammered slightly in confusion before furrowing his brow. “I can go, but it’s difficult right now. I have to go to the airport to take a plane. If you’re bored, you come here. If you come, I can send someone to pick you up at the airport.”

My friend gave a peculiar look at the boy’s arrogant tone, as if thinking, What’s wrong with this kid? But the boy continued, showing off. “No matter how far, it’s only about ten-odd hours, so you just have to bear with it a little, Taei.”

‘No. My name isn’t Taei, it’s Taeui.’

“Tae… Tae-i…?” The boy seemed flustered by my brother-in-law’s correction and repeated it uncertainly. But immediately, another correction came from my nephew.

‘I said no. It’s Tae—ui.’

“Tae—ooh-ee…”

‘No, that’s not it…’

My nephew, without getting angry, calmly continued to repeat his name precisely. The boy tried to follow a few times and seemed to get increasingly frustrated. Then, on the seventh or eighth try, he finally pronounced my nephew’s name relatively accurately.

“Tae—ui.”

‘Oh, yes. That’s it.’

My nephew shouted with immense delight. The boy’s face showed a mix of relief and a sigh.

‘But who are you? What’s your name?’

“I, I’m…” The boy was about to open his mouth to arrogantly state his name when a ringing sound came through the speakerphone. Someone seemed to have arrived.

‘Oh. Mom and brother must be back! Well, call me again later. Let’s play again later!’

My nephew said brightly, then, perhaps forgetting who the boy had originally called for, abruptly hung up the phone. And the boy stared at the phone, making dull, disconnected tones, with a bewildered expression.

Now I noticed my friend, who had subtly turned his head, was struggling to suppress laughter. The boy’s face grew increasingly menacing as his anger flared, and finally, he smashed the phone with his fist. Crack, crack, pieces of the phone shattered and fell, and the boy spun around and strode out of the drawing room.

Once the boy was out of sight, my friend burst into loud laughter. I felt somewhat guilty for having caused this, and I looked at my friend awkwardly. But he, finding it all so amusing, kept laughing, saying, “When will that kid ever experience something like this again?”

Eventually, after a brief pause, I called again, and my friend was able to speak with my elder nephew. My friend kept a thoroughly cheerful expression and continued to laugh.

***

My elder nephew seemed to develop an interest in weapon development afterward. More accurately, rather than developing an interest himself, it was more about catering to the people who were interested in and intrigued by it—starting with my friend, their numbers gradually increased—so he designed weapons to satisfy their desires.

The novel machine gun he first drew was actually manufactured two years later, after some modifications and variations, and it significantly aided my friend’s family business. Probably no one could have imagined that the person who conceived that new machine gun was a child barely ten or so years old.

My nephew implicitly began to gain fame. Although he was already renowned as a genius, his involvement in the weapons industry couldn’t be revealed publicly, so word circulated quietly. He wasn’t the type of genius who was only smart as a child; as he grew older, year by year, he devised even newer and more robust creations. By the time he became an adult and eventually joined UNHRDO as a special researcher, the things he accomplished were too many to count on two hands.

My nephew remained unchanged, then as now. He was consistently quiet, calm, and well-behaved. The mysterious side of him, where you could never quite tell what he was thinking, also remained. He always seemed to observe the world, gazing outward with his quiet eyes.

Ultimately, I had no regrets about drawing him into this industry. As my friend had said, everyone lives according to what they are given. What was given to him was not from me, but from someone before he was even born. Everyone is like that. Just as I am now, and as he will be in the future. We live according to the abilities we are given.

However, sometimes when I looked at my nephew, I couldn’t bear the pity and tenderness I felt. In this vast world, what he carried was too immense. It was as if he were left utterly alone in the world. As vast as the world is, what the child possessed was dauntingly large. Could my nephew truly endure living while burdened by that immense weight? Sometimes, even my small abilities feel overwhelming and difficult.

He never complained to me that it was hard. He simply remained in his steady place with an unruffled expression. And so, I wanted to grant him anything he desired. Anything within my power. To lighten the weight he carried, even just a little. I wanted to help him. Therefore, I will arrange the path he desires, to the extent of my meager abilities.