Passion (BL Novel)

Given Weight
When I was a child, I thought I was a genius.

From my naive early years through middle school, high school, and university, I never encountered anyone I considered better than me.
In fact, I didn't come to think of myself as a genius by my own realization. It was because everyone around me said so.
A person forms their shape based on how others perceive them, so even before I matured, whenever people looked at me, they would express astonishment and praise me in loud, delighted voices, saying that such a prodigy would never come again. As a result, I truly became that person.

I was better at studying than my peers, excelled at sports, and knew how to live my life. I knew exactly how to get what I wanted more easily. I was a sharp little kid.
Fortunately, my family had enough wealth to provide me with the kind of advanced education a prodigy would need. So, I could fully express my talents and potential.
Soon, I grew tired of competing with kids my age in my environment. Competing with them felt like an overwhelmingly one-sided game, and it became boring.

Around that time, I learned about gifted education organizations abroad. Hearing that prodigies from all over the world went there, I thought I should be going there too. My parents and everyone who knew me thought the same. So, I set off on my own for overseas study, leaving my family behind, full of hope at such a young age.
And the result? I came to know reality.
In reality, I was still a genius. I adapted well in that environment and soon achieved results above average.

But it was still "above average."
While I was a genius in reality, I was not considered one there. I was merely a smart kid.
My childish arrogance was shattered, and there, I learned how a half-genius like me could adapt to the real world. It was an incredibly useful process.

Only then did I make friends, talk without feeling frustrated, and meet people who understood me, apart from my family. Looking back now, I think it was the most useful thing I experienced up to that point.
While I wasn’t a world-changing genius, I was brilliant enough to be a source of pride for my family. When I entered a prestigious foreign university at a younger age than usual, without much difficulty, my older brother, who raised me like a father after our father passed away, was so happy that he cried.
I had a very good relationship with my brother. He was already an adult when I was little. It wasn’t just because of the age gap. His mind matured early. He was always thoughtful, had solid judgment, and although he wasn’t fast, he made the right calls. I can’t express how much I loved him and admired him.

But my brother had one fatal biological weakness. Unfortunately, I only found out after he got married, but he had difficulty having children. To be accurate, he couldn’t have children at all.
However, my brother and his wife had a strong desire for a child, and eventually, they asked for my help. I gladly agreed. So, after about a year, my brother and his wife were able to have a child.
Biologically, it would have been my child, but no one thought of it that way. Not even me. My brother said he would give me one of the children, but I had no intention of doing that. I still don’t. Those children were solely my brother and his wife’s children.

However, once a person forms a perception, it’s hard to change. Even if I think I’ve changed, that thought often lingers unconsciously beneath the surface.
Although I wasn’t the world’s greatest genius, I graduated from one of the world’s top universities without difficulty and immediately joined the UNHRDO. I thought that was good enough for anyone, and I secretly believed that myself.
But at that time, I tasted frustration for the second time in my life. It was the second experience that made me think I wasn’t a genius and was just an ordinary person.
My brother’s child was a twin, and the older one was beyond any words like "genius."

I only got to stay with my nieces for about a month when they were around four years old, as I was on break after graduating from university. During that month, I was struck by the sheer brilliance of the older child, which made me question my own abilities and talents.
The older nephew was so brilliant that it’s not even worth mentioning. He was the kind of child that made me think it would be difficult to meet someone like him in my lifetime. Fortunately, my brother raised him well, so he wasn’t arrogant or conceited like I was at that age.
Perhaps the truly genius children don’t care about such things. Those at the top of the world usually see the world from a completely different perspective than those below.

The younger twin was an ordinary child. He was physically weak, so I took him to the hospital a few times when I visited. But as he grew, he became healthy and smart. He was also a lovable child.
I loved both my nephews, but if I had to pick the most interesting one, it would undoubtedly be the older one.
The older nephew was, once again, an unparalleled genius. It had become so familiar to me that I would not be surprised if he could write out the chemical equation for hydrogen-neutron bombs at that age. Moreover, not only was his intellect incredible, but his luck was also outstanding. This was something that couldn’t be easily explained.

He had a good mind, good luck, a humble character, and a harmonious family. His life seemed truly blessed, and I spent quite a bit of time with him. After all, I was the most outstanding person among those around him, so it was possible.
Then, about a month later, I had to go back to my work at the UNHRDO and leave again.
I had a friend who I met at a gifted education institution, and he was similar to me, an average genius. He had long given up on being called a genius and opened a small business with his father's support.

His business, focusing on antique books, was likely to fail, but he was wealthy enough that losing one or two small businesses didn’t matter. His family was in the arms trade, and someday, he would follow in his father’s footsteps.
He was a book lover, but his knowledge of weapons was also impressive. At the time, I worked at the UNHRDO, and I often discussed weapons with him.
One day, when my remarkably intelligent nephew was still a young child, I saw him scribble drawings and writings on a notebook. The drawings were crude, but the content was a blueprint for a machine gun. The details were so precise that with just that paper, someone could have built a new type of machine gun.

When I asked him about it, he casually said it was just something he thought about because he was bored. He said I could take it or burn it if I wanted.
I was not only surprised but deeply shaken. He hadn’t copied or traced anything. He had calculated and designed a weapon on his own. The machine gun was revolutionary.
I immediately sent the drawing to my best friend, who was ruining his business.

Naturally, my friend realized its value and eagerly asked me to come to his house. We needed to discuss it in person.
 
My friend's house was a mansion. It was so grand that you had to drive through a long driveway from the front gate to the front door—something I had only seen in movies. Although my family wasn’t poor, I had never seen such an extravagant house before, and I looked around in awe.

Getting out of the car and standing in front of the grand entrance, I was still amazed. I waited for someone to come out and greet me, looking around curiously.
Then, suddenly, I heard a shrill scream from the side of the mansion, and a large boy, around fourteen or fifteen years old, ran out of the yard crying.
I opened my eyes wide in surprise.

The boy was covered in wounds. No, saying he was covered in wounds doesn’t even begin to describe it. His limp leg was swollen from a bad sprain, and his arm looked like it had been broken, with blood pouring out as though his bones had snapped.
His head was also battered—his hair and the area around his swollen eyes were drenched in blood, as if he had been punched repeatedly by a boxer. It looked like the scene of child abuse, and I stared with wide eyes in shock.
Behind him, a boy came running out. He was a little smaller than the first boy.

However, his limbs, slender and long, looked more like a teenager than a child.
I was stunned when I saw him. The boy, with an emotionless face, was holding a hammer. A hammer so large it looked like something you'd use on a construction site, at least three or four times the size of a regular household hammer.
Without any apparent hesitation, the boy walked up to the injured boy, swung the hammer with no emotion on his face, and I heard the terrifying scream I had heard earlier.

Frozen in place by the scene I was witnessing, I was soon joined by a grown man who ran out of the house. He began to try and calm the boy down, speaking gently to him. But the boy glared at the man with such a look of contempt that I wondered if he was about to smash him with the hammer, too.
Having grown up in a peaceful world, I couldn’t understand where this kind of brutal violence was coming from, and I could only stare in shock. At that moment, my friend came out from the house and, seeing me, was pleased to greet me, but as soon as his gaze shifted to the boy, his expression quickly changed to one of concern.
"Irei. Not again," my friend muttered, shaking his head.

The boy, named Irei, wiped a drop of blood off his face and nonchalantly said, "Well, you told me to call you by your name. I never said you could call me anything."
"My name is for you to call, not for anyone else to say."
The boy continued with his indifferent attitude, and then suddenly his gaze shifted to me. He looked me over from head to toe with a displeased expression. My friend sighed again and turned to me, introducing the boy.

"Changin, this is my younger brother. He’s ten this year. There’s a big age gap, but he’s definitely my little brother. His name, as you’ve just heard, is Irei. Don’t call him by his first name. He’s a bit peculiar, so use his last name. —Irei, this is my friend, Jeong Changin. Don’t treat him carelessly."
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe this violent child was my friend’s younger brother, nor could I fathom that this boy, who looked like he was around fourteen or fifteen, was actually only ten years old.
Of course, the most surprising thing was his brutal violence. However, the boy, having tossed the hammer aside, casually nodded at us with a nonchalant face and then went into the house. Still in a daze, I followed my friend inside.

“Impressive. Truly... unbelievable,” my friend said after thoroughly examining the blueprint. I understood his feelings well. At first, I couldn’t believe it either. I even wondered if another child or a technician had drawn it.
"This child is your nephew, right? How old is he?"
"Twelve. Wait, no, that would be ten in their age system," I corrected.

"Ten years old!"
My friend shook his head in disbelief. He looked at me with a mix of suspicion, as if he thought I was lying, but I had nothing to hide. My friend soon realized that everything I said was the truth, and he sighed deeply afterward.
"Ten years old."

"Yeah. Just ten."
My friend suddenly seemed to notice something on my face. I still don’t know what kind of expression I had, but whatever it was, my friend slowly reached out and patted my shoulder.
"Don’t feel sorry. Friend. Everyone has to live the life they’re given."

I just looked at him, nodding quietly. My friend, who had been staring at the blueprint for a long time, suddenly turned and saw Irei, the boy from earlier, reading a book by himself in the corner. Irei started walking toward us with that same indifferent look on his face, almost like a hungry lion looking for something tasty.
"Hmm. Did you draw this?" Irei asked, looking at the blueprint, and I was slightly taken aback by his blunt tone, but I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head.
"No, my nephew did. He’s probably your age... Rigrow."

I called his name with a slight hesitation, not really accustomed to saying the last name. I glanced at Irei. He stared at the blueprint as though it was some kind of amazing toy and mumbled, “Impressive.”
At that age, for a boy like him to find the blueprint impressive was surprising to me.
"Changin. Is it possible to talk to your nephew?"

My friend seemed very interested in the blueprint and asked if I could call him. I hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. It wasn’t unusual for my older nephew to receive calls about academic things from strangers.
 
When I agreed, my friend was overjoyed and quickly prepared the phone. I picked up «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» the receiver to dial my brother’s house.

Just as I was about to make the call, Irei, who had been curiously examining the blueprint, turned to me and asked in a bold voice if he could make the call himself.
I looked at my friend, and he shrugged his shoulders in a resigned manner before giving his approval for Irei to take the call. After a few words, the phone was handed over to Irei.
After hearing the dial tone for a moment, my friend suddenly seemed to remember something and quickly pressed the switch on the phone to switch it to speaker mode. The dial tone continued for a moment before someone finally picked up.

"Hello."
It was my second nephew's voice. The boy sounded a bit confused by the unfamiliar language, but I assured him that English would work just fine. My nephews had traveled abroad frequently because of my older nephew, so they could speak conversational English like it was their native tongue. Irei tilted his head slightly, then asked in English.
"Hello, are you Jaey?"

The second nephew seemed a bit taken aback by the sudden switch to English, and there was a pause before he slowly responded.
"No, my brother is not here right now. He's with mom at the research lab, getting some tests done. I'm all alone. Who are you?"
I couldn’t help but smile at the innocent tone in his voice. I thought to myself that when I went back home, I would have to tell my nephew not to speak so freely with strangers when he's alone.

Maybe having the same thoughts, my friend also smiled faintly, and the boy, who seemed much more worldly than my nephew, gave him an adult-like piece of advice.
"You shouldn’t speak to anyone like that when you’re alone. You don’t know who’s on the other end of the line."
"But why? You’re in America, right? So, before you come, my mom, dad, and brother will be back."

The second nephew said this with a confident tone. Apparently, he assumed that anyone speaking English had to be from America. Irei scowled and glared at me as though questioning why I had raised such a naive child.
I shrugged my shoulders, pretending not to notice, and then Irei spoke again.
"This is not America. It’s Germany. And your neighbor could also call you in English, you know."

"No, our neighbor can’t speak English. Neither the grandmother nor the grandfather. Hmm... but maybe the lady who comes sometimes can. I’ll ask her next time."
"Ah, make sure you check that out."
After a brief but stern piece of advice, Irei seemed to think he had said enough, but the second nephew began chattering away, clearly bored and eager to talk.

"But where is Germany? Are you in Germany? Then you can’t come here, right? Is it farther than America? I’m bored right now. Come visit me. My name is Taei. Jeong Taei."
The second nephew kept asking, and Irei’s face twisted with confusion, clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable. The boy seemed slightly flustered but still managed to maintain his cool demeanor.
"It’s possible to come, but it’s difficult right now. You’d have to go to the airport and take a plane, you know. If you’re bored, you can come here. If you want to, I can even pick you up at the airport," Irei said with an air of superiority.

Seeing his attitude, my friend had an expression of disbelief. It seemed like Irei thought this was all perfectly normal behavior. But Irei continued, proudly speaking as though it was an obvious fact.
"No matter how far it is, it’s only a few hours. You just have to wait a little."
"No, my name isn’t Taei. It’s Taei."

"Tae... Taei...?"
The second nephew seemed to be taken aback by Irei’s incorrect pronunciation and corrected him, saying it was "Taei," clearly emphasizing the exact sound of his name.
Irei was slightly surprised at first, but after several attempts, he managed to say the name correctly.

"Taei."
"Yeah, that’s right. That’s it!"
The second nephew shouted, clearly delighted, and Irei’s expression softened into one of relief.

"By the way, who are you? What’s your name?"
"I, I am..."
Irei opened his mouth to respond, but just then, a bell rang from the other end of the house, indicating someone had arrived.

"Oh. It looks like mom and my brother are back! I’ll call you later. Let’s play again next time!"
The second nephew’s bright voice rang through the speaker, and then, seemingly forgetting the call, he abruptly hung up the phone.
Irei stared at the phone, now disconnected, with a confused expression. Looking over at my friend, I noticed he was holding back laughter.

Irei was growing increasingly irritated, and before long, his expression became menacing. Without warning, he swung his fist and smashed the phone into pieces. The sound of shattering plastic echoed as the phone broke into fragments, and Irei stormed out of the room.
As soon as he left, my friend burst into loud laughter. I felt a bit guilty for what had just happened, but my friend couldn’t contain his amusement.
"That kid... when will he ever experience something like that again?" my friend said, chuckling.

After a while, I made the call again to connect with my older nephew, and my friend, still smiling broadly, joined the conversation.
As time went on, my older nephew became more and more interested in weapon development. It wasn’t so much that he was passionate about it, but he had an interest and would design weapons to fulfill the needs of those who were fascinated by them—my friend included.
The new type of machine gun he first designed was later produced two years later, with some improvements and modifications, and it greatly benefited my friend’s family business. No one would ever imagine that the brilliant design of that new machine gun came from a ten-year-old child.

The boy, my nephew, started to gain some underground fame. While he had already been known as a genius since childhood, his reputation for weaponry spread quietly, in a way that couldn't be openly acknowledged.
He wasn’t the type of genius who was just "smart" as a child. As he grew older, he began to invent newer and more solid creations. By the time he became an adult, he had accomplished more than anyone could count on both hands.
He entered the UNHRDO as a special researcher, and though he had been a genius from a young age, his real breakthrough came when he became an adult.

But through all of this, my nephew remained the same. He was always calm, composed, and quiet, with an air of someone who was quietly observing the world around him. He never complained, no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders.
I felt a strange sense of guilt sometimes when I looked at him. He carried such an enormous weight on his shoulders. In this vast world, what he carried seemed overwhelmingly big, like he was left all alone in the world.
I often wondered if he would be able to handle it, because at times, even my small burdens felt overwhelming for me.

He never complained, though. He was always calm, in his usual place, always thinking quietly. And so, I wanted to give him whatever he wanted, to ease the weight on his shoulders, if I could.
I wanted to help him in any way I could, as much as my own limited abilities would allow. So, I would make sure to guide him toward the path he wished to take, as best as I could.