Frozen in Disbelief

Park Junseong froze right where he stood. Just as Park Jihun had said, a middle-aged man had recently come to the emergency room complaining of chest tightness and indigestion. However, while waiting after his electrocardiogram (ECG), his condition had significantly improved. It wasn't an immediate crisis. In fact, these were the most ambiguous cases in the ER—not seemingly in immediate danger, yet impossible to completely dismiss. But the moment Park Jihun pointed out that exact patient, goosebumps erupted all over Junseong's body.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself. Yet, even as he said it, he was already slipping on his white coat and heading toward the ER. "I must be losing my mind."

He just wanted to take one quick look. If the patient had already been discharged, then so be it.

He stopped in his tracks just as he reached the ER. The middle-aged man and his guardian were standing with the resident. The patient was preparing for discharge, and the resident was explaining the situation to the guardian.

"It's nothing urgent. Just take your medication and follow up at the outpatient clinic," the resident said.

The guardian nodded with a relieved expression. Gritting his teeth, Park Junseong walked straight up to the resident and spoke in a low voice. "Doctor. Could we take another look at this patient?"

The resident frowned. "Look at what?"

"Could we just run another ECG?"

"Hey, Park Junseong." The resident let out a scoff of disbelief. "If your shift is over, go upstairs and sleep. What do you know that makes you think you can butt in?"

"Still, I don't think we should just let him go."

"We shouldn't just let him go?" The resident's voice sharpened. "On what basis are you asking to check him again? Do you have any clinical evidence?"

"Well, no, but..." Junseong hesitated, but he refused to back down. "Can't we just check one more time before discharging him?"

"Hey. Park Junseong."

Just as the atmosphere was about to turn ugly, a voice cut in.

"What's going on here?"

The attending professor on duty walked over. The resident answered immediately. "It's nothing, Professor. The patient was cleared for discharge, but the intern here is insisting we check him again."

The attending's gaze shifted to Park Junseong. "Why do you want to check him again?"

"...I just feel like we shouldn't let him leave like this."

The resident snorted in disbelief. But the attending, looking back and forth between the patient and Junseong's desperate face, finally spoke. "It seems you have a reason you can't easily explain... Fine. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Run one more ECG."

The patient was escorted back to the bed. A moment later, the resident's hand froze as he scanned the newly printed ECG strip.

"...Wait."

The first ECG had been ambiguous. But the second one was entirely different. The subtle abnormalities that had been barely visible earlier were now starkly apparent.

Beside the pale-faced resident, the attending professor checked the strip and gave a sharp command. "Cancel the discharge. Call cardiology immediately."

In an instant, the air in the ER grew heavy. The guardian's face turned white, and nurses rushed back to the patient's bedside.

Amidst the sudden flurry of activity, Park Junseong stared at the newly printed ECG strip. Running it just one more time had clearly exposed a critical issue they had missed. If they had sent him home, it would have been a catastrophe. A cold sweat ran down his spine.

Junseong muttered in a daze, "...That stream. It was real."

Junseong returned to the duty room. On his desk, the laptop screen still showed the live stream he hadn't closed. As he approached it like a man possessed, a senior colleague sitting nearby glanced over and chuckled.

"Why aren't you sleeping? What is this, some shaman stream?"

Junseong turned to him. "No."

The senior blinked. "Huh?"

Junseong licked his dry lips and said, "He's the real deal. He's a real shaman."

The next morning. The moment Park Jihun opened his eyes, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. Out of habit, he opened the ViewTube app, and his eyes widened as soon as he checked his subscriber count.

"...What in the world?"

The subscriber count and views were on a completely different level compared to the day before. The numbers had skyrocketed overnight.

Jihun immediately tapped into his channel. It looked like his editor had uploaded a new Short overnight.

[The Single Sentence on a Live Stream That Saved a Rookie Actress]

The thumbnail featured Han Yu-na's face alongside a short subtitle of Jihun's words: "There is a kidnapped woman." It was the very first thing Jihun had said the moment he called 112.

He clicked on the Short. The video was a fast-paced, tightly edited compilation of the conversation inside the taxi and Han Yu-na's subsequent rescue. The comment section was absolutely blowing up.

Jihun chuckled as he scrolled through the comments. "The response is solid."

Now all he needed was to ride the algorithm. It was only a matter of time before the channel exploded. Not only that, but the influx of viewers to his live streams would surely increase. That meant the competition for readings would become even more cutthroat.

That evening, his prediction proved spot on. The moment he started the stream, the chat went wild.

The viewer count had surged noticeably. On one side of the screen, a small notice was displayed:

Jihun scanned the chat and spoke calmly. "For those of you who are new, please read the channel rules first. We'll begin shortly."

Taking a brief breath, Jihun activated the priority system. Instantly, a deluge of applications flooded in. The five paid slots were filled in the blink of an eye. It was fast—unbelievably fast. The chat immediately sensed something was off.

Jihun silently scanned the list of applicants. The usernames were all different. On the surface, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. However, a strange sensation wafted from the top three slots. It tasted of cold metal. Jihun shook his head.

"The top three. I'm not giving you readings."

A chorus of complaints erupted. Just as the other viewers were starting to feel uneasy about the decision, a brief vision flashed before Jihun's eyes.

It was a dark room. On one side of a monitor, a small program window was open. The moment the priority system was about to open, a cursor snapped to the button with unnatural speed. Even though no physical finger had clicked the mouse, the application button was registered. It was a speed impossible for any human.

Jihun curled his lips into a mocking smirk. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you using macros?"

The applicants vehemently denied it, but Jihun remained resolute. "Save your excuses. I don't do readings for people who cheat their way in."

The chat buzzed with excitement.

The accused applicants immediately spammed the chat in protest.

Jihun didn't even blink. "I don't accept entries like this. You're disqualified."

Without a shred of hesitation, Jihun canceled the top three applications. He refunded their donations in full and, for good measure, permanently blacklisted all three accounts.

The chat heated up once again.

Jihun spoke coolly. "Alright, I'm opening up three slots again."

The chat erupted once more.

Jihun scanned the chat. He had weeded out the macros, but the underlying issue remained. Ultimately, a first-come-first-served system would always favor those with fast reflexes.

Even after turning off the stream, Jihun remained lost in thought for a while. It was true that people with slower reflexes found it nearly impossible to apply through the priority system. The competition was simply too fierce. That was likely why people had resorted to using macros in the first place.

Hmm, what would be the best way to handle this?

As he pondered, one of the new features Ocean had recently added in a platform update came to mind.

It wouldn't hurt to change up the application method once in a while.

Instead of always relying on first-come-first-served, adding some variety would keep things interesting. Jihun thought about it for a moment, then smirked.

This could be fun.

The following evening, Jihun went live.

Jihun glanced at the chat and spoke. "Hello, everyone. We'll be doing readings today as well, but we're going to try something a little different."

The chat buzzed with curiosity.

Jihun continued calmly, "For today, we won't be selecting applicants on a first-come-first-served basis."

Instantly, the chat exploded.

Unbothered by the skeptical reactions, Jihun went on. "Looking at the chat yesterday, I noticed people saying that those with slower hands or older viewers never stand a chance. When I thought about it, they had a point."

The chat stirred once more.

Jihun moved his mouse as he spoke. "So, as a trial run, I'm going to use a different method today. As for how we'll select the applicants..."

Pausing for effect, he added, "We'll be using a roulette wheel."

The chat went absolutely wild.

Jihun silently opened a new window on his screen. "I'm going to spin the wheel now. If you want a reading, just type 'Apply' in the chat. The winners will ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pay the usual bokchae before we begin."

The moment the words left his mouth, the chat went into overdrive.

The usernames of those wishing to participate began to populate the roulette list one by one. A mix of familiar handles and brand-new names crowded the edges of the wheel.

"Wow, that's a lot of applicants. Let's spin it right away."

Jihun clicked the start button.

Click.

The roulette wheel began to spin with a rapid whir.