Chapter 21
"I'm too busy with my part-time job to find time to learn swimming..."
In truth, I had way too much free time! So much that I was on the verge of getting evicted for missing rent.
"And the purpose of your part-time work...?"
"Living expenses."
"Then let's do this. We'll provide room and board. It's the university dorms and cafeteria, but what do you say?"
"Hmm..."
Jackpot!
I pretended to mull it over while pumping my fist internally.
No salary was a bummer, but I couldn't ask for the moon. Learning to swim for free was already a steal.
Still, the timeline's a bit tricky.
My aptitude wasn't swimmer. I'd squeaked by so far on luck, but after a year of training with no progress, I'd be out on my ear.
At least I'd bought myself time. One year. Sorry to the coach who'd hired me, but I planned to land a solid job in that span.
She's probably thinking the same thing.
Otherwise, why set a one-year limit? She'd watch my potential and decide on renewal carefully.
"Moon-soo hyung."
"Hold on."
"Okay."
Just in case, I hushed Choi Kang-hun. No way he'd blurt something weird, but better safe.
Variables are a no-go.
This was make-or-break for my livelihood—no room for screw-ups.
"Coach."
"Made your decision?"
"...Yeah. I'll do it. But I have a condition."
"What is it?"
"This can't have been an easy call for you either. Same for me—quitting my job, giving up my lease."
"Ah..."
"No matter what, I want a contract guaranteeing that full year you promised."
"No worries there. If you accept, we'll draw it up right away."
"Thank you."
"Can't do it here, so shall we move somewhere else?"
"Sure."
Perfectly aligned, we headed from the pool to the office.
* * *
"Hmm..."
I pored over the contract meticulously. Standard form, verified template—just an added clause for one year of room and board.
"All good?"
"...Coach. What's this mean?"
I pointed at a line with my fingertip.
"Dual contract. Means you can't enter unapproved matches or join another team."
"Aha!"
"Any other questions?"
"Yeah, this one."
"Priority renewal rights upon expiration. Stops poaching bad habits."
"Aha!"
I asked boldly about anything unclear—no faking it.
Never again.
Dad had crashed pretending to be an expert outside his aptitude. Hubris's price. So I scrutinized every detail, questioning to avoid "I didn't know" excuses later.
"Ask away."
"...Think that's all."
"Shall we proceed?"
"Yes."
Scribble—
Deeming it clean, I signed.
Scribble—
Coach followed suit.
"One year short, five long—let's make it great, Kang Moon-soo."
Five long. Loaded words.
Song Seon-yeong mentioned it.
Younger prodigies climbed yearly—athletes' primes were brutally short. Inevitable fate.
"Looking forward to it. And drop the formalities, Coach."
"Haha! If we're together after a year, I will."
"Got it."
Meaning: if I sucked, no favoritism—she'd cut ties cleanly. Suited me fine.
"Dorm's that blue building out the window. Cafeteria's out of sight from here..."
"I'll find it."
That much I could handle.
"Your room's 323. Two-bedder, so a roommate might move in after term starts."
"...Understood."
Sharing irked me, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Creak.
Coach pulled a card from her desk drawer.
"Meal card. One lunch, one dinner. Cafeteria only, today's menu choices at the entrance."
"Got it."
Whoa, options!
Beats high school slop. And free! Loved it.
"Oh, and since you're not a student, no library or computer lab."
"No problem."
Off-hours: dorm rest or job hunt.
"Campus bus okay, but they spot-check IDs—don't rely on it."
"Yes, ma'am."
No tuition paid, no gripes. My spots: dorm, pool, cafeteria. Clear.
"I've got prep too, so move in today/tomorrow—training starts day after. Sound good?"
"Perfect."
I'm free as a bird!
Tomorrow worked too.
"Wednesday, 8 a.m., this office."
"Yes."
We wrapped amicably.
On the way back, Choi Kang-hun—who'd trailed silently at my request—finally spoke.
"Moon-soo hyung. Can I talk now?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
"You could've tipped me off you were going pro swimmer."
He pouted, hurt.
"Sorry."
Had to play it natural, off-script. Allies first for secrets, right?
"I'm bummed."
"About what?"
"I'd have intro'd you to the national team coach who trained me..."
"Huh?"
What now?
"Dad sponsors her. She'd say yes if I asked. You're no slouch."
"......"
"She's national team director—top-tier perks, special treatment. Better conditions than this, probably."
"......"
Head spun.
"Anyway, awesome! Close to school—easy visits after class. Hehe."
"Yeah... total win. Ha, ha, ha..."
Wanted to time-travel back.
* * *
He gazed at the contract Kang Moon-soo had just signed, smiling contentedly.
Thank goodness.
Coaches vied as fiercely as athletes. Scout top talent?
Beat rivals to P's aptitude test data on prospects!
Monopolize if possible.
This could be my shot...
A prodigy even big-name coaches chased: Song Seon-yeong.
National rep mom's blood—nay, beyond—raw potential genius.
But she flat-out refused swimming.
Parents backed her choice despite pleas. What now? Give up.
And this is my last chance.
No army without soldiers. No coach without pupils.
He'd scoured personally, security-guard style, desperate for anyone.
Decent backups? Snatched by fame-hungry coaches!
"Damn pigs."
P's aptitude test spat "swimmer" nationwide. But nationals? Top five fingers only.
Genius to crush prodigies, grit for brutal drills.
No talent? No nationals, let alone Olympic medals.
Swish—
He checked his pocket stopwatch.
「01:54:28」
"1:54."
No mistake. Intentional approach, but race result stunned—kept the record unreset.
20 seconds shy of 200m freestyle world record.
20's not nothing, but that scrawny build?
Absurd. For real!
"How's a shaman clocking this...? Water ghost hunting needs swim skills?"
Shh—
Pocketing the contract, he chuckled slyly.
Swim well? Aptitude's whatever.
* * *
"Farewell, hellhole single-room! Bye!"
No movers or truck cash, but light load anyway.
Plus, "Whoa! Hyung! Moon-soo hyung!"
A bored little bro dying to help move.
Rich kid wouldn't get "time is money."
"Grab this."
"Wouldn't tell me your new place—dying to know!"
"Uh..."
Warehouse—not metaphor, literal. Couldn't show Choi Kang-hun or pals my poverty, misery.
Neat school look kept it hidden.
"Shocked?"
"Yeah."
Blown away by my grind, probably.
"No wonder shaman! Ghosts incoming vibe!"
"......"
"You're amazing, hyung! Real man! I'd bail in a day from fear...!"
"...Let's go."
"Okay!"
Packing, dust in eyes? Sudden red rims.
I turned away to hide, calling, "Kang-hun."
"Yeah!"
"Tough times? Hit up this hyung, no hesitation. Money aside, I'll help anything."
"Whoa, for real?"
"Man's word is bond."
"Manly! Yeah!"
Loaded up, off to Sports University dorms.
Rattle-rattle.
Borrowed cart from local merchants I'd nodded to helped—no sweat.
Dorm halls/elevator tight fit, but
"Nngh...!"
"Kang-hun, easy—grab that."
"Got it."
His help sped it up.
Thanks.
Sincere. Promise too—non-financial aid.
"Hyung, two beds."
"Told ya, two-person. Spacious for it."
Privacy share sucked, but en-suite bathroom? Hotel vs. old shared stall. Paradise.
Liked it.
"Ow... shoulders killing."
Flop~
Choi Kang-hun slumped on empty bed, wiping brow sweat.
"Hang on. Vending machine at entrance level. Cola, cider, iced coffee...?"
"Hyung, got something to say."
He hesitated, gauging me.
"Spit it out."
"You said help with anything."
"Yeah. Money excepted."
Not likely borrowing from rich boy.
"Can I ask now?"
"Shoot."
"Remember hyung-nim? We didn't hang much, but..."
"How could I forget."
One "hyung-nim" from Choi Kang-hun: half-bro Choi Kang-min.
Polite title, but not close bros.
"What's up with Kang-min hyung?"
"Dad said he called shamans to heal him."
"Yep."
"All fakes."
"Yep!"
Fake "shamans" outside aptitude cost me indirectly!
"But you're real."
"Well—huh?"
"Your aptitude's shaman, right? Saw it on your test sheet."
"Uh... true."
"Heal hyung-nim."
"But I can't even read fortunes, let alone—"
"Promise!"
"...Fine."
Disappoint him, sure—but hospital visit mindset. Easy.