Chapter 2 – Graduate (2)
In this world, there are countless teenagers who wander aimlessly, unable to fully utilize their talents.
Some never discover their talents in their lifetime, while others find them too late, missing the timing and opportunity, letting their potential go to waste.
This is undoubtedly a tragedy!
Yet, everyone was aware of this issue and had no choice but to accept it. Even parents who birthed and raised their children couldn’t accurately discern their talents.
That was certainly the case until the revolutionary “P” appeared.
“The history of humanity underwent a massive change with the emergence of P. This was the starting point of the famous Job Revolution. Thanks to the aptitude test machine invented by P, humanity was able to stop wandering and live more efficient lives…”
“Teacher!”
“Do you have a question?”
“Yes. Is it true that P is an alien?”
“Rumors are just rumors. No one knows the true identity of the revolutionary P. Not their appearance, gender, or nationality.”
That’s why P is called by many names.
Master P, Doctor P, Genius P, Jesus P, Professor P, Super P…
This alone shows how shrouded in mystery P is.
“With the Job Revolution—”
“Teacher.”
I, who had been listening quietly, raised my hand and called out to the social studies teacher.
“Kang Moon-soo, do you have a question too?”
“Yes. What happened to the people who were harmed by the Job Revolution?”
“I don’t understand the intent of your question.”
“There must be people whose aptitude test results were wrong…”
“There aren’t.”
The social studies teacher declared without a hint of hesitation.
Caught off guard, I was momentarily speechless, but I quickly regained my composure and pressed on.
“What about people who lost their jobs because of bad aptitude test results?”
“There was no national compensation, of course. It was, and still is, a harsh competitive society. Does that answer your question?”
“…Yes.”
Faced with the blunt response typical of a social studies teacher well-versed in society, I had no choice but to concede.
“Teacher, please understand. His aptitude test result was really weird.”
“Yeah, his job is… something else.”
“Moon-soo’s job is kind of out there, huh?”
“If I were Moon-soo, I’d have run straight to the Ministry of Education.”
“Me too.”
My classmates whispered among themselves, watching me like spectators at a fire.
Then,
“He got shaman!”
My friend sitting next to me couldn’t hold back and blurted out my job.
“Shaman?”
“Yeah, he got shaman.”
“I see. After class, grab some cleaning supplies and come to the staff room.”
“Huh?”
“Revealing someone’s aptitude test result in a public setting is extremely rude. As punishment, you’ll clean the staff room.”
“T-Teacher! That’s unfair! Everyone already knew…!”
“I didn’t. I didn’t know Kang Moon-soo’s aptitude test result.”
“Ugh…”
“This is just cleaning the staff room because it’s school. Out in society, in a workplace, that kind of thoughtless behavior could violate personal information protection laws or, depending on the situation, even constitute defamation. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Seeing my friend slump in defeat, I slowly lowered the fist I’d been ready to throw.
‘You’re lucky.’
As the matter settled, the social studies teacher turned to me.
“Kang Moon-soo.”
“Yes.”
“Are you dissatisfied with the result from Revolutionary P’s aptitude test machine?”
“Yes.”
Why ask the obvious? Anyone would be upset.
“Not just Kang Moon-soo, but everyone, listen closely. There’s no such thing as a noble or lowly job. Especially in today’s specialized society brought about by the Job Revolution.”
“Even a shaman?”
“Yes, even a shaman. Someone out there needs it.”
“Oh, okay.”
“And your aptitude test result isn’t the entirety of your life. Life is a long journey of forging your own path…”
“What about you, Teacher?”
“What do you mean?”
“What was your aptitude test result?”
“…I got high school social studies teacher.”
“I see.”
So where’s the forging-your-own-path part?
“…”
“…”
“Ahem. That’s all for today’s lesson. For the remaining ten minutes, study quietly on your own.”
***
“Words without legs travel a thousand miles,” as the saying goes.
“Shaman Kang Moon-soo!”
“Moon-soo, read my fortune!”
“There’s a shaman in our school?”
It means rumors spread incredibly fast.
“…Rude, my foot.”
A sigh escaped me.
Until yesterday, I was a promising student excelling in every field. How did I fall so far?
The culprit was clear.
The aptitude test result!
Now, everywhere I went in school, the word “shaman” followed me, and I felt like I’d collapse from the stress.
Of course,
“The future president is passing by!”
“Your Excellency, please hire me!”
“My aptitude is secretary. Remember that!”
“Oh, Mr. President! What’s your policy?”
Some kids reveled in the titles their aptitude results gave them.
“When I run for president later, make sure to vote for me!”
One friend, simply because his aptitude test result was “president,” strutted around the school mimicking an unparalleled politician on the campaign trail.
And to top it off, opportunists and sycophants started playing along!
“I’m a journalist.”
“You’ll need a scriptwriter too.”
“Hire me as a bodyguard!”
They began acting out the roles assigned by their aptitude test results.
“Journalist here. How do you feel about becoming president?”
“Mr. President, please appear on our broadcast.”
“Move aside! Kids, clear the way! His Excellency is passing through!”
It was a clown show so childish it wasn’t even worth calling out, but not a single student mocked it.
What if they made an enemy and this guy actually became president someday?
“Lucky…”
“I’m jealous…”
Watching this stark contrast, my blood boiled even more.
“Shaman Kang Moon-soo!”
“Moon-soo, can you see ghosts?”
“When am I getting married?”
Students brimming with laughter kept flocking around me.
Curiosity was one thing, but this was different.
“Moon-soo, can you talk to gods?”
“Tch, don’t you know? Moon-soo’s got God’s number in his phone.”
“No way! Do they accept atheists?”
“Say hi to God for me!”
The blatantly mocking kids clung to me like leeches every break, piling on my irritation.
“Wow…”
I deserve applause and respect for my patience in enduring this!
‘No, wait. If I keep holding it in, I might end up in a mental hospital.’
I needed drastic measures.
Violence and cursing were the worst options.
So what, then?
“Hey! Keep bothering me, and I’ll curse you all.”
“What?!”
“Huh?!”
“If you don’t believe me, try me. I’ll show you why I’m a shaman.”
Was it the stress I’d been bottling up exploding all at once?
Overwhelmed by my aura, the kids started backing away.
“…I’m outta here!”
“Me too!”
“Wait! I’m coming!”
Scramble.
The kids, who feared curses as much as they trusted the aptitude test, scattered like defeated soldiers.
“…Phew.”
Confirming that the pests who’d been bothering me every break were gone, I let out a sigh of relief and returned to my seat in the classroom.
Thud!
Then I immediately slumped over my desk, head down.
‘Curses, my foot.’
If I really had such mystical powers, I would’ve used them long ago.
I’m just an ordinary high school student who knows nothing about the occult. I’m even an atheist, not close to any religion.
“Curses…”
“If he’s a shaman, he can curse…”
“Yeah, curses…”
I could hear my classmates whispering as they glanced at me.
Had the rumor already spread?
Just moments ago, they were dying to talk to me, but now they avoided me like I was something filthy.
‘Fine. This is better.’
As my head cooled, I started thinking about my future.
The most urgent issue: money!
‘How do shamans make money? Is there a part-time job for this too?’
I’m really losing it.
***
“Hey! It’s the teacher!”
“Everyone, back to your seats!”
“Quiet! Quiet!”
Creak-
The homeroom teacher, who taught math for our senior year of high school, slid open the door and slowly entered the classroom.
Before starting the closing ceremony, she scanned her students’ conditions, her gaze pausing briefly on the back of one boy’s head, slumped over his desk.
Shaman.
The first time such an aptitude test result had appeared since the school’s founding.
So she’d done some research of her own. She could let him graduate as is, but her own aptitude test result of “high school math teacher” wasn’t just for show.
Duty, mission, professionalism…
She genuinely wanted all her students to succeed.
“Everyone, did you have a good class?”
“Yes!”
“Yesss!”
All the students except one answered energetically.
In this country, every teacher in every school is a professional whose aptitude test result was “teacher.”
Teaching well is a given, and they approach their students with a passion that doesn’t fade over time.
In such an environment, could the quality of classes ever be lacking?
Hardly.
“Did our future president have a good class too?”
“Hahaha!”
“That wasn’t a question to laugh at.”
“Yes, maam!”
“Having the aptitude for president doesn’t mean you’ll automatically become one. Dozens of people get that result every year. Will they all become presidents?”
“Uh… probably not?”
Unless a president’s term is less than a month, it’s impossible.
“Here’s a question: If you don’t become president, what will you do?”
“Uh…?”
Caught off guard by a question he hadn’t considered, the “future president” was left speechless.
“To hire people to help with your campaign, you’ll need money. How will you raise it? Are you going to borrow from your parents?”
“Sponsorships…”
“Who would willingly invest after seeing the disappointing behavior you’ve shown at school today? What if this was recorded and went public in the distant future?”
“…”
He’d be completely ruined before the campaign even started.
Not foolish enough to miss that, the “future president’s” face turned pale.
“Think carefully.”
“Yes…”
Shifting her gaze from the student whose mood had plummeted from heaven to hell, the math teacher spoke with conviction.
“Your aptitude test result isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. There are many competitors with the same aptitude out there in society. If you don’t put in the effort, your aptitude test result is no better than a piece of scrap paper. Keep that in mind.”
“Yes!”
“Yes, Teacher!”
The students seemed genuinely moved by her words, but for her, giving similar advice each year as a senior-year homeroom teacher was like copying and pasting—nothing difficult.
However,
“Hm…”
The math teacher glanced at Kang Moon-soo with just her eyes.
What advice could she give to this lost boy?
Shaman.
It was an aptitude test result she’d never seen before, making it hard to find the right words.
‘How ironic.’
A device created by Revolutionary P to guide humanity away from wandering, causing someone to wander?
It was deeply perplexing, especially since she trusted the aptitude test results.
“Moon-soo.”
So, instead of a lecture, she spoke in a gentle tone.
“Yes.”
“Could you come to the staff room after the closing ceremony? It won’t take long.”
“…”
“I’ve invited someone to the school who might be able to help you.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry for arranging it without telling you, but think of it as an extension of career counseling.”
“…Okay.”
Satisfied with her student’s response, the math teacher concluded the ceremony with a relieved tone.
“Your aptitude test result is not the end but the beginning. Don’t be late tomorrow, and approach your studies diligently.”
“Yes.”
“Yesss!”
***
After the somewhat heavy closing ceremony, I followed my homeroom teacher to the staff room.
‘Someone who can help me?’
I was a bit curious.
“Teacher, can you tell me who you invited to the school for me?”
So I casually asked.
“It’s a secret.”
“…”
The response was underwhelming, but!
“They’re someone famous enough to be on TV.”
“Oh, okay.”
Someone famous, here for me?
My self-esteem, which had hit rock bottom, perked up just a little.
“They were hard to get, so don’t be rude under any circumstances.”
“Yes.”
Creak-
After one final reminder at the staff room door, my homeroom teacher opened it and led the way inside.
But…
“Math teacher!”
“Teacher, please stop him!”
“What’s going on here?!”
The other teachers already in the staff room cried out in distress the moment they saw her.
What was happening in there?
Following my homeroom teacher, I peeked inside the staff room and…
“Wooo! Begone, spirits weary of studying! Shoo~!”
Splash!
I froze like ice as I saw a man dancing and shouting, spraying liquor from his mouth in all directions.
A real shaman?
Judging by his attire and behavior, that’s what he was.
“…”
The teachers in the staff room were merely startled, but for me, it was pure despair.
‘Do I have to become like that someday?’
A wave of dizziness hit me.
“Mr. Yoo Il-am, the shaman! You can’t do this in the staff room!”
“Begone, spirits~!”
“Is a spirit more important than a student who might become your apprentice?”
“Begone—huh? Oh! Teacher.”
The man who had been rampaging in the staff room suddenly stopped.
“Moon-soo.”
“…Yes?”
“Introduce yourself.”
“Oh, yes. Hello. I’m Kang Moon-soo, a high school senior whose aptitude test result was shaman.”
I bowed politely.
With the perfect manners I’d honed through part-time jobs for my livelihood, I aimed to make a good first impression—
“You know my name, right? Genius shaman Yoo Il-am.”
“Uh… yes.”
I had no idea who he was, but it felt like saying so would be a bad move.
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