Chapter 19
“Shaman?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Kid, if we don’t look at aptitude, what do we use to hire part-timers?”
“......”
The cleaning company boss’s perfectly reasonable point left me speechless. Was this guy just smarter than the others? No. Every place I’d checked obsessed over aptitude, whether it was day labor or full-time.
Tough...
Not a few job ads even nailed it down outright: “No applications except this aptitude!” So my options for even getting an interview were super limited. Hard to find, too.
“Shamans catch ghosts, right?”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t do other work. I’ve got long-term part-time experience at a convenience store.”
“Hmm...”
The boss pondered.
“Just to be safe, I’ll say this upfront: we catch rats and bugs hiding in houses. Not ghosts.”
“Got it.”
“If you start dancing like Yuil-am or yelling...”
“I absolutely won’t!”
“Yuil-am swears he won’t too, then sneaks in a ghost catch. Says ghosts won’t notice otherwise...”
“I really won’t! Fire me on the spot if I do!”
There was a reason the image of shamans lingered at rock bottom—not exactly normal.
Yuil-am again!
No way, but it felt like payback for turning down his disciple offer. Was that clown hiding nearby, spying on me and laughing his ass off? My gut boiled.
“Kid.”
“Yes.”
“I like your enthusiasm, so leave your contact info.”
“Thank you!”
I finally landed a job!
“Hold up. That doesn’t mean I’m giving you work yet.”
“Then...?”
“Means I’ll think about it. If no call in a week, assume it’s a no.”
“Okay.”
In other words, he’d hire me if no better applicant with a nicer aptitude than shaman showed up in a week. Fat chance.
* * *
“This is driving me nuts!”
I hadn’t expected full-time from the start, but getting rejected even for day labor? No clue.
Of all times...
I’d overlooked it, but right now was when fresh Aptitude Test grads, hyped up, were hustling for big cash beyond their parents’ allowance. Jobs were scarce.
No—easy or high-wage gigs were always cutthroat. But even scraping for basics without being picky? All because of my aptitude!
“Such prejudice...”
Blame Yuil-am.
Now what?
I trudged home empty-handed. Wanted to hunt more jobs, but I’d overdone it not even a day post-discharge.
“Hyung!”
“......”
Loud enough to be a hallucination.
“Hyung! Moon-soo hyung~!”
Thud! Arms wrapped around me from behind, calling my name. Voice I knew too well. No need to check—he was obvious.
“What the? Kang-hun?”
Choi Kang-hun. Buddy since clueless elementary days.
What a coincidence.
Back before his dad blew the fortune and died, our families were neighbors. We’d bump into each other plenty. Now? School or bust. After my graduation? Even rarer.
“Hyung~!”
“......”
Glad to see him too, but tears welling in his eyes? Overkill.
What’s up?
“You wake up in the hospital, you tell a guy! I came for nothing!”
“Oh... sorry. Didn’t know you’d visit.”
Really didn’t. Close like brothers, but we’d never worried over each other before.
Or maybe...
Rich kid Choi Kang-hun, looks on point—no real reason to fret over him. Last time: elementary, wiping tears from the pretty-boy tease, patting his back.
“So mean! I even signed the guestbook!”
“Did you...”
“Heard you woke and checked out in a day? Freaked me out! The senior who collapsed with you’s still laid up.”
“Song Seon-yeong?”
“Don’t know the name.”
“Never heard at school?”
“Nope. Zero.”
“I see.”
Guessed as much, but confirmed: only Song Seon-yeong and I shared the dream.
“Hyung!”
“Heading to academy? Don’t be late.”
“So mean! Not happy to see me after so long?”
Puppy-dog eyes, drenched. Couldn’t just walk.
“...I was out cold. Feels like yesterday.”
“Oh! Yeah, you’d feel that way, hyung!”
Face lit up. No sign of leaving.
“Go on. You’ll be late.”
“Nah. Not academy—company tour.”
“Tour? No Aptitude Test yet?”
Job shadows post-test. Hype too early, wrong aptitude? Disaster. Pre-grad tours? Rare as fingers on one hand.
“Dad’s company.”
“Ah!”
Family biz exception. If aptitude sucks, could tank it—no force.
“Text dad’s secretary you’re skipping.”
“But it’s a promise...”
“Fine. Not one-day thing? All depts take days. Skip one.”
“Right...”
Too big? Also exception!
“You got time, hyung?”
“Don’t ditch for me.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Vacation. Then graduation.”
“Hmm...”
No need to explain more, but for Choi Kang-min’s sake, truth it.
“Job hunting.”
“Whoa! You’re a real adult, hyung! Cool!”
“Uh...”
Knew it was pure awe, not sarcasm—from experience. Still awkward.
Guy who never worries about jobs, amazed...
Tour was heir training? Early grooming? Enviable—no future angst.
“Jealous. Dad says ignore aptitude, learn biz step-by-step...”
“Yeah.”
Spoiled kid’s got gripes too.
“Hyung!”
“Quit calling. I’m out.”
“Together!”
“This hyung’s swamped prepping for adulthood. Don’t skip tour for me.”
“No way! Bro’s sick, so I got shoved in! I’m no replacement!”
“C-calm down.”
Smooth life for Choi Kang-hun, but one half-bro: Choi Kang-min. Details fuzzy, but terminal—never leaves hospital.
“Wanna calm me? Hang out.”
“You a kid...?”
Scolded, but he saw me waver, pushed harder.
“Hyung! Great idea!”
“What?”
“I’ll help you job hunt!”
“How?”
“Dad hook-up.”
“Ah!”
Hated nepotism ignoring aptitude, but desperate.
“Whaddya say?”
“...I’ll think.”
Last scrap of conscience.
“No, hyung—ask now.”
“Who? Manager? Director?”
“Dad, duh! He’s home.”
“Cough!”
First time in ages to Choi Kang-hun’s—not play, interview.
* * *
Choi Kang-hun lived top floor, priciest station-area officetel around. Private elevator, card key only. Plus: (Young master Choi Kang-hun and one other arrived.)
Top floor, doors open, announces to owner. Ding-dong! Slide—
“Welcome, young master.”
“Welcome home, young master.”
“Welcome, young master.”
Butler and maids lined up, bowing politely at elevator.
Whoa...
Kid me breezed through clueless. Now? Overwhelming. Me, deserving this?
“Young master, friend?”
“Oh! Back early.”
“Young master with a friend? Rare.”
Post-formalities, casual chats to him.
“Moon-soo hyung!”
Second son intro’d me quick.
“Oh! My lord! So tall, didn’t recognize.”
Butler who hated my visits back then? Big grin.
Scary uncle from below then... Now eye-level, nice guy.
“Ah! The one you praise daily?”
“First time, Kang Moon-soo. Thanks to young master, not so formal.”
“Coat here.”
Maids all young beauties, cute. Owner’s taste suspect? Unchanged.
Miss it.
Innocent kid days, visited often. Free snacks over pricey art.
Whoa! Sell one piece...Cough!
Wrong thoughts? Grown materialistic?
Only change: huge family photo on wall. Couldn’t view pure anymore.
“Hyung! Hyung!”
“...What?”
“Same as last visit, right?”
“Yeah.”
Furniture matched memory, bar time’s flow in photo.
Bro’s missing.
No Choi Kang-min.
“Kang-hun?”
“Dad!”
“Ahem! ‘Father’ before guests...”
Man fighting grin, composing face, approached. Choi Kang-hun’s dad. Gut like booze strata aside, forehead wrinkles on son’s face. Handsome middle-age.
“Fine now. Not strangers.”
“Who... hm?”
“Remember? Frequent kid visitor, Moon-soo hyung!”
“Oh! Rice thief’s back?”
“Yep!”
Years later, still remembered clear.
“Hi, uncle.”
“Hey. Heard you collapsed at school, hospitalized. Messed up now. Used to have chubby cheeks, perfect pinch.”
“Ha, ha... yeah...”
We hit the vast tennis-court living room sofa, unpacked stories.
“How you been?”
“Job hunting.”
“Job? Right! Year older than my boy. So Aptitude Test done.”
“Yes.”
“What’s it? Always wondered what the pricey-snack picker’d be.”
“Shaman.”
“Trash.”
“Pardon?”
Blindsided word stunned me. What’d he say?
“Shamans spew lies from their mouths. Trash.”
“......”
Smile gone, serious glare chilled me.