One Hundred Rejections
Park Jihun sat on a plastic stool in front of a convenience store, his heart pounding as he checked his phone. "Please, just this once!"
...We regret to inform you that despite your passion and outstanding qualifications, we are unable to move forward with your application at this time due to company circumstances.
Today marked his exact one-hundredth rejection. By now, he could recite the generic template with his eyes closed. Jihun took a long swig of his canned beer, but the carbonation tasted flat and lifeless.
"Seriously, when the hell am I ever going to get a job?!" he muttered, his face contorting in bitter resentment.
Bzzzz.
The phone he had tossed onto the table vibrated loudly. He checked the screen to see who it was. The caller ID read Kim Usik. His inseparable bulal-chingu—his absolute best friend. Sighing, Jihun picked up.
"Yeah? What's up?"
"Judging by that dead voice, you got rejected again."
"Hey. Did you call just to rub it in?"
"Cut the crap. You know that pojangmacha in our neighborhood? Get over here. I'll buy you a drink."
"...Thanks."
Jihun tossed the empty beer can into the recycling bin and stood up. His stomach let out a loud, hollow growl, practically sticking to his spine.
At the neighborhood pojangmacha, they ordered spicy stir-fried hagfish and a couple of bottles of soju. They clinked their glasses together.
"Ahhh." Jihun downed the shot in one go, grimacing at the burn.
Usik, sitting across from him, spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?"
"What else can I do? Keep applying until something sticks."
Even if a tree didn't fall after a hundred chops, the hundred-and-first chop might do the trick. That was Jihun's desperate hope.
Then, Usik smirked. "Hey, remember when we were kids?"
"What about it?"
"The old shaman grandma next door. She always said you were destined to become a baksu."
"Damn it, how many times do I have to tell you that was complete bullshit? If that were true, I would've caught shinbyeong and had a naerimgut ages ago."
"Well, sure, but don't you think it's weird? Over a hundred rejections with a resume like yours? Failing to get a single final offer makes absolutely no sense."
Jihun let out a heavy sigh. He had felt it too, deep down. He had graduated from a top-tier university in Seoul with a 4.1 GPA. He had stellar language test scores and a stack of professional certifications. Yet, after applying to over a hundred companies, he hadn't received a single final offer. It was truly bizarre.
"Still, saying I can't get an office job because I'm destined to be a male shaman? That's ridiculous. We don't live in the Joseon Dynasty."
As Jihun shook his head in disbelief, Usik leaned in and made a casual suggestion.
"Then why don't you try streaming?"
"What? Streaming? Like you?"
"Yeah. You were always great at giving advice and listening to people's problems back in school. You've got a gift for storytelling, too. Just do that for an audience. It's not as hard as you think. Once you build up a viewership, the money is actually pretty good."
Jihun looked skeptical.
"That's only because you're a veteran who's been doing this for years. I hear the streaming industry is a complete red ocean these days."
Just looking at ViewTube, experts and elites from every imaginable field were jumping into the fray. It wasn't an exaggeration to say the barrier to entry had skyrocketed.
"Don't worry. I'll give your channel a boost."
Usik's offer was tempting. Starting from absolute scratch was daunting, but with an established streamer backing him, it was a completely different story.
"Is this why you wanted to meet up?"
"I was going to buy you celebratory drinks if you passed, but since you got rejected, I figured I'd pitch this to you instead. Otherwise, you're just going to rot in your room playing games until your next interview."
Jihun narrowed his eyes. Having grown up together since childhood, they knew each other inside out—which was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing.
"Fine. I'll give it a shot. But if I don't feel it, I'm quitting immediately."
"Just try it first. Who knows? It might actually be your calling."
"I highly doubt that..."
At that moment, Jihun was absolutely certain of it.
A few days later, Jihun sat in front of his computer, shaking his head. A webcam mounted on his monitor, a studio-grade microphone next to his keyboard, and a high-end headset—Usik had personally come over to set up all of this expensive equipment.
"Why the hell are you being so nice to me?"
He had asked out of sheer curiosity, and his friend's response was spectacular.
"There's a tournament coming up in two weeks, and I want you to team up with me."
"What does that have to do with me streaming?!"
"Only active streamers can participate. You need to log at least twenty hours of airtime. Got it?"
"What? Twenty hours?"
"Yeah. More is better. Anyway, once you go live, I'll raid your channel and send some viewers over. Good luck!"
Click. The call ended.
Only then did Jihun realize the true motive behind Usik's sudden generosity.
"Well, I was curious about streaming anyway."
But he was fully prepared to pull the plug the second he felt uncomfortable.
"Alright, let's turn it on."
Jihun logged onto the Ocean homepage and clicked the "Go Live" button.
Perpetual Job Seeker has started broadcasting.
The exact moment the notification popped up, something completely unexpected happened.
A violent shudder racked his entire body. Cold sweat drenched his forehead, and his body temperature spiked instantly. Jihun realized instinctively that this was no ordinary flu.
The shinbyeong—the shamanic illness he had never once experienced despite being born with the fate of a baksu—had finally awakened.
Before he could process the pain, viewers began trickling into the chat room.
"Sup refugees" was the standard greeting for viewers migrating from another stream. Usik had kept his promise from the pojangmacha.
Jihun opened his mouth to greet the sudden influx of viewers, but his head spun violently, and the fever raged like wildfire.
Then, in an instant—
Whoosh!
He felt an extraordinary, otherworldly energy surging deep into his body.
"Ugh..."
Jihun struggled to maintain consciousness. But then, the searing fever vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving him completely refreshed. Still dazed, he stared at the monitor as if possessed.
The chat was a chaotic mess. Jihun finally parted his lips to speak, but the voice that echoed out was not his own.
"Listen up!"
A deep, commanding voice reverberated through the microphone.
"Cut the useless chatter. If you don't want to watch, get lost."
Normally, he would never speak to anyone like this. But the moment the stream started, the words spilled from his mouth before his conscious mind could stop them—sharper, colder, and completely authoritative.
The chat froze in collective shock. But the silence was short-lived as a barrage of angry messages flooded the screen.
Viewers began leaving in droves. Just then, one viewer asked a question.
Staring coldly at the chat, Jihun replied, "This is a place where you get your shamanic reading."
Then, his eyes locked onto a specific username.
"You there, 29AndUnemployed. You shouldn't be laughing right now."
Instantly, the chat was flooded with question marks.
Ignoring their sarcasm, Jihun focused entirely on the fate of the person hiding behind the username 29AndUnemployed.
Suddenly, bizarre, vivid scenes began to overlay his field of vision.
A young boy, about ten years old, riding a bicycle, was struck by a van running a red light. A moment later, a middle-aged man scooped up the boy, whose leg was badly broken, and began running frantically. Then, an emergency surgery at a hospital.
Jihun spoke in a low, resonant voice. "You had a major car accident when you were ten, didn't you? You almost lost your leg, but your father saved you."
The chat came to a sudden halt.
Then, 29AndUnemployed typed a response.
As 29AndUnemployed lashed out in denial, another vision flashed before Jihun's eyes.
"Oh? Look at this unfilial bastard. Your mother's knees are failing her, yet you barely even call her, do you? You need to reflect on your behavior."
"What do you mean? I'm giving you a shamanic reading. Oh, and take her to the hospital to get her stomach checked too. They're going to find something there."
But Jihun had no intention of stopping. There was still one crucial thing left to say.
"Tomorrow at 2:00 PM," Jihun said, his voice dropping an octave. "Do not go to your interview."
The chat froze again. 29AndUnemployed had never mentioned having an interview tomorrow.
Jihun delivered the final, devastating blow to the panicked viewer.
"Because if you do, tomorrow will be the day you die."