I Became a Shaman in Another World

"It's an incurable disease. Mana Dispersion Syndrome."

Blinking in disbelief at the doctor, I saw pity in his eyes as he looked back at me.

"It's a condition where the mana in your body slowly dissipates. An incredibly rare illness—I never imagined a young person like you would get it. It won't hurt. But once the mana reaches a critical low, you'll just slip away in your sleep."

I asked the doctor desperately.

"Is there a way to survive?"

"No. The only option is to periodically drink the rare potion called Sun's Tear to keep your mana levels above a certain threshold."

Sun's Tear. The name alone suggested it was outrageously expensive.

"How... how much does it cost?"

"One dose costs about as much as an average commoner's house. We've got an era of advanced magic where we launch hunks of metal into the sky and build skyscrapers, but it's still prohibitively pricey. If you don't have the wealth to drink it like water for the rest of your life... you'd best start getting your affairs in order now. At most, you've got half a year."

My strength drained away. What about my future plans? The money I'd slaved over for years to save for magic school tuition? All my hard studying? Were they all just pointless bullshit?

Death flag popping up out of nowhere like this?

"I'm sorry. There's nothing more I can do."

I don't even remember if I bowed before standing up from my chair.

After leaving the hospital, I wandered aimlessly. How long did I walk? Eventually, I reached the top of the hill behind the neighborhood, overlooking the city.

Yurtel, the southern tourist city of the Cardran Empire. A beautiful city boasting stunning lakes, hot springs with healing properties, and natural scenery. Tourists, delicious food, frequent festivals—a laid-back, leisurely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vibe.

But today, the cityscape that usually looked so vibrant appeared utterly colorless.

I'd have to drink Sun's Tear regularly for the rest of my life. And with my part-time restaurant wages, that was impossible even in death.

I didn't want to die. If only I had money, I could save my own life. But where the hell was I supposed to get that kind of cash?

Suddenly, tears burst from my eyes.

"God, why are you doing this to me?"

I spat the words toward the sky in lament.

"You took Mom so suddenly, and now you're taking me like this? Why me? Huh?!"

Mom, who one day casually told me she'd die in three months—and sure enough, three months later, passed away peacefully in her sleep. And now me, struck with a terminal illness out of the blue.

Was there such a thing as fate? Did sudden death run in the family?

"You bastard! I want to live! Let me live! Why are you doing this to me?!"

Sobbing, I roared the words. Luckily, no one was around to glare at me, but even if there had been, I wouldn't have cared. My situation was that desperate.

And astonishingly, an answer came to my shout—one I hadn't even expected.

A status window ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠popped up before my eyes. In 21 years since reincarnating, I'd never seen one before. It looked like a status screen, but I instantly realized this was Mom's Divine Descent—the isekai version.

The Divine Descent I'd waited so long for had finally arrived.

"You're too late..."

But what good was it now? My life was on a timer.

This wasn't funny. What was the point of giving me this now? Should've given me healing powers instead.

I shook my head to dispel the negativity. I'd shouted that I wanted to live, and the Divine Descent came. Maybe it meant I should use this to make money and survive?

Fortunately, I knew the most straightforward and effective job for turning this ability into cash.

Like Mom, I'd open a fortune-telling shop and collect fees.

You might say fees alone wouldn't cut it. But I'd seen celebrities and politicians from TV frequenting Mom's shabby shop since I was a kid. And I still remember staring blankly at my bank account, counting the zeros in her inheritance.

Fortune-telling shops make bank! So collecting fees to buy Sun's Tear and stay alive wasn't a pipe dream!

Plus, I'd spent years by Mom's side watching exactly how she ran her shop.

Now I had a goal, savings, and a new power. That very day, I poured every penny into opening my fortune-telling shop in Yurtel.

A fortune-telling shop is all about the vibe. Detached, otherworldly, mysterious—like you've transcended worldly ties. The setup has to feel premium.

I quit the restaurant immediately and dumped every rune I'd saved over two years for magic school into the interior.

It paid off. The space was tiny—barely 3 pyeong—but it looked decent enough.

Small size, but prime location near the tourist square where people constantly passed by.

I put extra effort into the front door. Two luxurious Greek-style pillars flanked it, making the shop stand out from the rest.

And between them, a large signboard.

Tacky wording, but necessary to draw customers fast. Yurtel was a famous tourist spot—plenty of folks might pop in for fun while sightseeing.

On opening day of my all-in fortune-telling shop, I sat tensely at the center, staring at the front door.

My hunch about tourists stopping by for kicks proved right. Ten minutes in, my first customers arrived.

"Babe! Let's do it quick. I'm dying to know!"

A stylish couple. The woman was stunningly beautiful; the man, strikingly handsome. Honey practically dripped from their eyes for each other—but their attitudes toward me were polar opposites.

"This stuff's all superstition and scams. I hate wasting money on it."

The man looked bored; the woman, super enthusiastic. Seeing her pout at his lukewarm vibe, he quickly backpedaled.

"...Fine, whatever. We're tourists—might as well for fun. No harm in it."

"I love this stuff. Come on, hurry!"

They flirted so grossly it made this single guy want to order a double laxative from the bartender. They sat before me.

I'd watched Mom do it plenty, but this was my first time. A deep breath calmed my nerves.

I pulled out a tarot deck, scattered it messily on the table, and said to them,

"Please place your hands on the tarot cards."

"Just put 'em on?"

The woman's excited question got a nod from me.

"Your destinies will settle on the cards, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠revealing specific ones to me. From those, I can divine your past... and future."

Pure bullshit.

I was busy using my Oracle skill to read their info—past and future included.

In other words, there was zero practical need for the tarot bluff.

But there was a reason for the act. As my veteran Mom put it:

"A true shaman with the gift can read a person's life at a glance. But spilling it straight shocks them. You need time for them to warm up. That could be tarot, physiognomy, or four pillars of destiny."

Shuffling cards, chanting spells, performing rituals, shouting, riding tiny horses—it was all just cushioning to ease them in.

And top shamans nailed two things: showmanship in the cushioning, and delivering your insights in a palatable way afterward.

Performance and smooth talk. Those were the secrets to success.

Anyway, my first-time cushioning seemed to land well. The woman looked bursting with anticipation; even the man eyed me curiously.

I gathered the scattered cards, sorted them neatly, and picked ones that fit their pasts and futures I'd just scanned.

Soon, I laid out a few before them: Death for her, the Weeping Woman; the Warrior and Sword in the Heart for him.

"Alexandra, you're a journalist at a magazine, right?"

She nodded, stunned.

"Yes! How did you know?!"

"I read it."

"Whoa, that's amazing! The Great Sage for real!"

The man, Jonathan, just shrugged at her excitement.

"Keen observation gets you plenty. Her bag's got magazines and a notepad—easy guess."

"Still freaky, right?"

Up to here, they were impressed but skeptical—prepped info or good eyes, probably.

But as I continued, their faces changed.

"Alexandra, your mother passed when you were seven. Her last words: Lexi, take care of your health. She was right to worry. You throw yourself fully into work without mercy."

Her expression shifted. But I wasn't done.

"As a kid, you climbed a barn pillar to the roof, fell unconscious—quite the troublemaker. I get it; you're passionate... but excess passion can eat you alive."

I pointed to her first card: Death.

"Cancer's growing in you. Get a full checkup at the hospital. Don't keep delaying with work excuses, or you'll regret it big time."

I tapped the second card: Weeping Woman.

"I saw your future. Dying, with Jonathan crumbling in tears at your bedside. But you were sadder—If only I'd taken better care. If only I'd told him I loved him more. That's how you go."

"H-how?!"

As Alexandra trembled like she'd seen a ghost, I turned to her boyfriend, Jonathan.

I pointed to his first card: Warrior.

"Your boss, Boggs, offered you a promotion. You're a warrior—ambitious, craving success. John & Till Motors is solid. You're set on marrying Alexandra, planning a nicer house, pricier ring for the proposal."

"What the hell are you?"

His voice shook, but I kept my composure.

"Sadly, that warrior drive drags you to misery. Work piles up; you miss Alexandra's signs. She's passionate too, ignores her health—and when you discover her cancer, it's too late."

I pointed to his second card: Sword in the Heart.

"You'll watch your lover die helplessly. You'll sacrifice career and wealth for miracles and magic, but nothing works. She dies holding your hand, leaving permanent scars—mental and financial."

I collected the four cards and shuffled them back into the deck.

"Alexandra, take care of yourself. Ease up; life's not a race. Time for brakes on that engine."

"Jonathan, decide what's truly important. Promotion and ambition? Or happiness with your love?"

I finished, packed the tarot away. They stared, pale as ghosts.

I smiled. "Consultation fee is 40 runes."

With trembling hands, they paid. They left in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a daze.

And at that moment...

...I had no idea what butterfly effect my first customers would unleash.