Chapter 20
“...Kang-hun, from now on, stay away from Kang Moon-soo—no, any shamans at all. Don't even talk to them.”
“Dad!”
Whoosh—the father of Choi Kang-hun, who had just been warmly reminiscing over the past with his son, delivered his unilateral decree and left the living room.
What the hell kind of bolt from the blue is this?
I'd only mentioned my aptitude was for shamanism...
“Moon-soo hyung...”
“It's fine. Can't be helped.”
I brushed off Choi Kang-hun's attempts to stop me and headed for the elevator.
That's when,
“Ahem.”
“Uncle?”
The man who remembered my childhood blocked my path.
“Don't take it too much to heart. At least the chairman didn't issue a full ban on guests, did he?”
“Isn't that the same thing?”
“No, it's not. I've served the chairman for a long time, so I know. If he truly hated it, he'd have given a clear order to kick you out.”
“Still...”
“It's bad manners to send an invited guest away empty-handed. At least have a meal before you go.”
“...Okay.”
I was pretty pissed from the harsh words, but I couldn't beat my primal instinct—hunger.
I hadn't eaten anything since that bowl of noodles the butler gave me as interview compensation at the restaurant.
“Butler, I don't get why Dad's mad. Did he fight with a shaman?”
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“He really did fight with a shaman.”
“Why on earth...”
“Have a seat first. It's a bit of a long story.”
“Okay...”
We moved to a place that reminded me of a fancy restaurant and sat at a long rectangular table adorned with candles.
Clink, clink, clink... Silver platters loaded with all sorts of dishes were laid out before us.
Can I get it to go if there are leftovers?
I knew it was physically impossible, but I wanted to store every bit of food left in my stomach.
“Don't worry about table manners—just eat comfortably.”
“Uncle, talk casually.”
“I have to watch out for the chairman, don't I? This level of distance feels just right.”
“......”
Is this what the Last Supper felt like? Like receiving a farewell gift from someone leaving forever.
“Butler, how did Dad end up fighting with a shaman?”
Choi Kang-hun, more shocked than me—the actual party involved—pressed for answers.
“The shamans scammed the chairman.”
“What kind of scam?”
“They said if he paid a huge sum, they'd cure the young master.”
“Ah!”
The young master—must mean his half-brother, Choi Kang-min, stricken with an incurable disease.
“They pocketed hefty advances, then claimed failure was due to insufficient offerings and demanded even more money.”
“Ah...”
“Every time, the chairman chased them out and called in new shamans. He's quite worn out from it all.”
“I had no idea...”
Modern medicine couldn't cure him, so he turned to the occult. No results, of course.
Those shamans went too far.
I felt wronged being lumped in with those con artists, but it didn't sting as much now.
“Still, Dad went too far! We're not strangers!”
“There's a reason for that too.”
“What is it?”
“There was something those shamans who introduced themselves as such had in common.”
“What?”
I was curious too, just listening quietly.
What could it be?
No clue.
“Not a single one had an aptitude for shamanism.”
“......”
It took a few seconds to process that.
It was that shocking.
“So... none of them actually had the aptitude for shamanism? Not even one?”
“Yes.”
The butler reaffirmed it, glancing at me.
What's your real aptitude?
That's what his look seemed to say.
* * *
“Once my resident registration comes through, I'll get an apology for sure!”
Aptitudes are listed next to the name on resident registrations.
That's why you can't get one without taking P's Aptitude Test.
In other words, you can't fake your aptitude.
This is so unfair!
The whole school knew my aptitude test results, but a big corp chairman wouldn't know my personal history.
Still, there was a silver lining?
I now knew exactly why I couldn't land a job.
“My reputation's in the toilet!”
Even trying other work besides shamanism, prejudice got in the way.
“Hyung, sorry.”
“Hey, Kang-hun.”
“Yeah!”
“Why are you following me?”
“'Cause I'm sorry!”
“Nah, I'm over it, so head home.”
My mood had cleared up completely after scarfing down free fancy food. They even packed the leftovers!
Stick it in the freezer, and it'd last me days.
“I'm too sorry to leave! I'll help till you get a job. But how?”
He'd tagged along without a plan.
A plan, huh...
I could fake my aptitude until the resident registration arrived as an excuse, get a disguised job.
Then, once I'd proven myself, come clean. Nice dramatic reveal.
But that soap opera trick wouldn't fly in reality.
Faking your aptitude is a major crime!
Too risky...
You'd have to cough up all earnings from it, or serve jail time equivalent.
Last resort?
Go straight-up: prove yourself from the start without faking anything!
What time is it now?
I checked my smartphone clock and decided on the next move.
“Kang-hun.”
“Yeah!”
“You good at swimming?”
“Huh?”
We headed to the Sports University Swimming Pool.
The place with my longest memories alongside Song Seon-yeong...
* * *
“Moon-soo hyung, people are staring.”
“Ignore 'em.”
“I wanna, but it's been ages since I've been in a crowded pool. Kinda embarrassing.”
“...Kang-hun. Walk like a man—shoulders back, head high.”
“Like a man?”
“That's what makes you one.”
“Got it! I'll try!”
Truth be told, this guy didn't need to strut.
Choi Kang-hun, changed into swim trunks after shedding his casuals, looked photoshoot-ready.
Beneath his slim frame hidden by clothes lay sleek, flawless muscle—no excess fat.
As it got a bit wet...
“Oh my!”
“Look at that kid.”
“He's so handsome...”
The women's eyes stuck to Choi Kang-hun like glue.
“Hyung's the cool one.”
“Me? I didn't do anything.”
“You're so chill with everyone staring.”
“Well...”
I knew they weren't staring at me.
“Jealous. You look so manly, Moon-soo hyung.”
“Me?”
With that earnest flattery, his aptitude might be 'sycophant'?
“You look like a starving hyena!”
“That's a compliment, right?”
“Yeah!”
Maybe a tad short on street smarts to be a proper sycophant.
Anyway, where's the lifeguard...? Oh! Still the same guy!
If it's like the dream, the pool lifeguard is this university's swim coach.
He's scouting high-potential swimmer hopefuls, looking super anxious about time.
Even after half a month, same story...?
Means I still have a shot.
“First off...”
I checked my swim trunks.
Always rented the same ones in the dream, so no difference expected.
Next, my body.
The biggest worry.
Could I even swim when walking on flat ground was still awkward?
No choice but to try.
Splash~
After simple warm-ups, I cautiously slipped into the pool.
Memories flooding back.
Song Seon-yeong taught me from total kindergarten basics, step by step.
“Hyung, you learned to swim?”
“A bit. You?”
“Me too, a bit. About five years under a national team coach.”
“Oh, really.”
'A bit,' my ass...?
Worlds apart from my dream-only knowledge.
Damn... this is real life, not a dream...
I tensed up hard at the thought of swimming for real.
Splash, splash~
I paddled forward, splashing.
It works!
And right after, a thrilling rush wrapped around my whole body!
Because the swimming I'd learned from Song Seon-yeong in the dream worked in reality too.
Buoyed with confidence, I swam straight across the pool's center for all to see.
Splash, splash!
My coma-weakened body hadn't fully recovered, so I couldn't hit dream speeds,
“Pha!”
and my breath-hold wasn't as long either.
It's okay.
This much was plenty for now.
Not a waste after all.
Dreams vanish on waking, but the experience and knowledge empowered real me.
Splash!
“Pha!”
Back at the start after my lap, Choi Kang-hun stared in surprise.
“Hyung, you're actually good!”
“Yeah?”
“Super fast! Where's that power from?”
“From the free grub.”
Free is always right.
“I ate the same...”
“Kang-hun.”
“Yeah!”
“Sorry.”
“Huh?”
“Wanna race me?”
Be my sacrifice!
Guilty conscience, but he'd offered help—no refusing.
“Sure! But lemme warm up first—one lap.”
“Go for it.”
“Hup!”
Choi Kang-hun's eyes turned serious as he pushed off the wall.
Splash, splash!
“...He's fast.”
Five years under a national coach wasn't bluffing.
I might lose...?
Logically, yeah—I'd learned from an aspiring swimmer, not a pro coach. And my aptitude wasn't even sports-related.
If I had hope?
He wasn't overwhelmingly dominant like dream Song Seon-yeong.
Doable, maybe.
Splash-!
“Hyung! Hyung! How was it?”
Back already after one lap, Choi Kang-hun looked at me like a kid seeking praise.
Breathing steady—no fatigue.
1500m? I'd lose for sure.
Short distance it is.
“Damn fast. You're good.”
Not empty words.
“Hehe!”
“Ready to race?”
“Yeah!”
“Hold up. I'll grab a referee.”
No need—the fish bit the bait, swimming right over, as expected.
Still got it.
Eyes burning with desire to recruit top talent!
For a coach to succeed?
Teaching well matters, but scouting the absolute best among aptitude holders for real results—that's key.
Same aptitude doesn't mean same potential or physique.
Gauging individual talents is the coach's skill and duty.
“Hello.”
“Yes? Hello. What can I do for you?”
I feigned surprise at the coach's greeting.
“Bit rude, but mind if I ask your aptitudes?”
“My little bro here's too young for his test, and mine's shaman.”
“Shaman...?”
“Yep. Shaman.”
“Like, the ghost-exorcising...?”
“Exactly.”
“Uh... well... to chase water ghosts, you'd need to swim well, I guess. Got it.”
The swim coach looked a tad disappointed.
But not giving up.
“Since you're here, could you ref for us?”
“Of course. I was rude asking your aptitude on first meet—least I can do.”
He smoothly pulled out a stopwatch as he spoke.
Just as planned.
“Ready—”
“......”
“......”
Choi Kang-hun and I took our positions at the starting line, as pre-arranged.
Tweet-!
We dove off at the coach's whistle.
Splash!
Splash!
* * *
And the result?
After the race, the coach—disguised as lifeguard—stared at the stopwatch forever.
“...You're really a shaman?”
He asked me with utter disbelief.
“Yes. Haven't gotten my resident registration yet, though.”
My time was way below expectations.
Barely beat Choi Kang-hun.
But the coach saw beyond the numbers.
“Bulk up the muscle... potential... but time... hmm...”
“......”
I waited as he muttered to himself.
“Moon-soo hyung?”
“Shh.”
“Okay.”
Choi Kang-hun sensed it too and stayed quiet.
Finally,
“You said your resident registration isn't out yet?”
“Yes. Graduated high school this February.”
“Age is fine...”
His intent was obvious, but I played dumb.
“Why do you ask?”
“...Truth is, I'm the swim coach here at this school, training athletes. What's your name?”
“Kang Moon-soo.”
“Mr. Kang Moon-soo.”
“Yes.”
“How about training under me for just one year?”
“Hmm...”
Jackpot...!
I'd landed a job as a college student(?!)!