Even Koreans Struggle with Korean
Right, what's the point if even a Korean can't handle Korean? If it were like math or English—subjects you can't challenge without studying, or disciplines as alien to each other as elves and dwarves from another world—then fine. But testing the language of the culture I've heard, spoken, and written my whole life? Even Ban Do-young's wrinkle-free, fluffy brain, oblivious that today was a mock exam, could crack it through wisdom beyond rote knowledge. Even passages from literature I'd never read before had clear paths through. They're stories from people sharing the same everyday world, after all. Anyone who can read at all could invest a little time, snag the key contexts, and pick the right answers within the time limit.
'Kuh, it's been ten years since I was a high school freshman, but thank god I still remember.' At this pace, I could finish well within the limit. Even if I bombed math, this should be enough to wheedle ice cream out of Sa-hyung and Hye-rang. Feeling cocky, I flipped through the answer sheet—until I hit the non-fiction passages.
In opposition to early modern rationalism, Kant called aesthetic sensibility 'aesthetic judgment' and argued that it too rests on principles with status and value equal to reason...
"No way, shit. Why the hell is Kant showing up in the Korean exam?"
I should've realized something was off when names of philosophers, scientists, and historians from other textbooks started popping up.
We sometimes see a 'supermoon' that's bigger than the usual full moon. The moon's actual size is constant, so what causes this phenomenon?
"How the fuck should I know? Take your science crap and piss off, please."
With these random outbursts aside, facing passages devoid of any human scent made it impossible to tell if I was taking a Korean exam or reading card game effect text somewhere.
"Haa... this is fucking infuriating."
Non-fiction texts aren't impossible to tackle. Less about grasping concepts and more like solving math formulas disguised as prose—but strip out the pointless particles and endings bloating the length, extract the keywords, plug 'em into an equation, and the thread starts to emerge bit by bit.
"Only choice 4 properly explains the passage's concept with a correct example..."
-Scribble scribble-
Problems that'd take over two minutes? I just followed with ④—Do Ha-min's student number—and moved on. Solve what I could as fast as possible; if it looked like a time sink, flip without hesitation. And hey, marking with that pen's owner's number? Even if I handed in blanks, maybe it'd cut the wrong-answer odds a tad. Wishful thinking, sure.
"You wait—I'll come back and destroy you later. Be ready."
We'll meet again. In 20 minutes, Shabondi style.
Body of a high school freshman virgin, mind that's survived the college entrance grind long ago. My protocol for tough problems was etched deep.
"Alright... literature section done. Mark the skips and..."
"Time's up. Everyone detach from your test sheets. Student at the back, collect the answer sheets and bring them up."
"...Ah."
My first mock exam since possessing Ban Do-young. The one subject I could handle on raw brains alone, sans study? Done.
"Whoa, are all high school exams like this? From midway, I had no clue what anything meant."
"That guy in question 14's passage? He's from Korean history. First period's Korean lit, why's this old dude crashing?"
The 20-minute break till next period after the mock exam. Students who'd shown even a shred of exam spirit let out collective groans the second the proctor teacher collected sheets and left through the front door.
Is it okay for problems to be this hard? Do we really have to endure this twice a month for three years straight till college entrance? Why run night self-study normal during mocks? Gripes everywhere.
I agreed on the difficulty, somewhat. Especially for these kids fresh out of middle school—it must've been brutal. Passages from textbooks? Nah. Quotes you'd never even overheard? Staring 'em down felt less like solving and more like getting choked out by the problems themselves. Unless you'd prepped for college entrance, it was a massive wall. Even me, seven-plus years removed but with actual exam experience, was creaking.
Chin up, heads high. You all had every right to yell, "This test is bullshit."
"Class prez, prez! What was 18?"
They swarmed An Seong-gyeong, test sheets in hand. First real college-style exam since high school started—everyone played it cool like they didn't care, but they couldn't hide their itch to know scores and which answers tormented them for 90 minutes.
"Wh-what? You guys... why all come to me?"
"'Cause you got in as first-year rank one."
"Whoa, popular much, prez?"
"Who's mocking who?"
Days like this, no looks or popularity mattered. Top students, ace test-takers stole the spotlight.
"Anyway, quick—tell me this one's answer! If I don't know, it'll bug me during math later!"
"Fine, one at a time... slowly."
Post-"mop bitch" incident, An Seong-gyeong tensed a bit as kids crowded her. No one in class 1-1 brought it up to harass her, but bitter memories of public backlash don't fade easy. She knew her past naivety now, so she was extra cautious.
"I had zero feel for that Kant problem. What's the answer?"
"Oh, that... it's finding where Kant's theory applies right. Only 3 does."
"Aah... got it, perfectly! Thanks, thankya!"
Vice prez Hyeon Myeong-su nodded wildly while claiming understanding, thanked her, and headed back.
"Me too! Grammar one confused me..."
"Find the correctly marked sentence. Not 'my leg cramped' but 'my leg went numb.' You probably checked wrong."
"What, really...? No way."
"See? My pick was right. 'Your words have no mackerel spine.' That's it, yeah?"
"No, that's wrong too. Not 'maekari'—it's 'maegari.' Answer's 1: 'Today I learned for the first time.'"
"Wh-what?"
"Whoa, first time knowing in 17 years of life."
"Class prez rocks—clicks right away!"
"Done now? Move so I can stash my textbook."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks, prez. I'll ask more later!"
"Not 'later'—'later on'!"
An Seong-gyeong looked annoyed but patiently explained answers and reasoning in her cool, heavy tone.
"Up close, prez, you're kinda cool."
"Spouting facts like that's what...?"
"Nah, felt like those star tutors. What're they called?"
"What."
"Y'know, ones who nail the key points..."
After pondering, spotting An Seong-gyeong's face sparked the word.
"Oh, mop-head tutor!"
"Pinpoint tutor, you bitch! You did that on purpose!"
"Kyahahaha!"
"Fuck... if a pencil lead flies at me from behind while testing, you're dead."
Leaving fuming An Seong-gyeong behind, I checked my test sheet on the desk.
"Lemme see—how many of those I asked about did I get right?"
I peeked at the problems she said were 3 and 1. Both marked V with the signing pen: ④. Do Ha-min's number.
"Haha, both wrong. Shit."
"Hey, Doyoungie. Exam go okay? How was it?"
"Scores? Who gives a damn. A girl's fine if she cooks well and looks good."
"Huh?"
How'd the other subjects go? If asked, I'd already answered: Korean was the only one I could do without studying.