The Shaman's Five-Minute Pitch

"You see that man over there? That's PD Choi, the face of MBS's flagship variety show Our Hospital. Our company has pushed him a casting inquiry how many times by now—"

Team Leader Gu's voice drifted further and further away.

TING—

My field of view shifted, and a phone screen floated up before my eyes.

It was a community forum board.

Why? What did she do?

The screen scrolled on.

Next, news headlines flickered past.

So what exactly did she do on the show?

The single most important thing was missing.

Come on, show me at least a clip. Show me the full episode.

As if in answer to my desperate plea······ click.

My vision snapped back to normal.

"······."

A broadcast station corridor.

Beside me, Team Leader Gu was still droning on about the rules.

This ability of mine always plays the trailer and locks away the main feature.

But I got the essentials.

I couldn't say whether this was some multiverse or not, but in the future I'd glimpsed, Park Songhwa appeared on Our Hospital.

Public opinion was split down the middle.

Compared to right now, when typing her name into a search bar unleashes a torrent of abuse, that was a leap and a half.

And there was that post I'd seen — three months of reflection.

It had only been a month since the overseas gambling scandal broke, which meant two more to go.

"Oh, Mishin? Hey, where are you going!"

My feet moved as if on strings.

"Excuse me, PD-nim."

Po Choi looked up from his tablet. A bored expression scanned me up and down — then morphed into something strange.

"······Where have I seen you."

"I'm Lee Mishin."

"Ah."

The tablet came down.

"The shaman."

Nobody at a broadcast station could fail to recognize the star of an eight-million-view clip.

"And what does the shaman want with me?"

"I'm currently with O2 Entertainment's management team."

It's my first day.

"Why would a shaman need a manager······ never mind. I have a meeting to get to."

"Five minutes is all I need."

Po Choi sucked down a sip of coffee, glanced at his wristwatch, and jerked his chin.

"······Ha, fine. Five minutes. Curious to hear what a shaman has to say, I guess."

"I'd like you to cast Park Songhwa on Our Hospital."

Right on cue, his brow furrowed.

"You want me to bring in the biggest bomb in South Korea right now?"

"Yes."

"Unbelievable. Have you decided to get my show cancelled? I can already hear the advertisers dropping us from here."

I affected an air of mystery. Pretended there was something more to it than there was.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Advertising rates ultimately track with viewership, do they not? Even the people tuning in just to hate-watch will be counted in the ratings."

"Fine, I'll give you that much. But when that hate spills onto the program itself? Who eats that cost?"

"I will."

"And who are you, exactly?"

"The shaman who sent Park Songhwa to rock bottom."

"So the shaman who sent her down is going to raise her back up?"

Po Choi gave a scornful laugh.

"Look, I assume you're saying this because you don't know better, but there's such a thing as viewer retention. Everyone tunes in at the start just to hate Park Songhwa, then bolts?"

"The show itself will be entertaining. To be precise, Park Songhwa is going to hard-carry it."

"Park Songhwa will hard-carry? Does that even make sense?"

He was evidently picturing Park Songhwa's broadcast image — and fair enough. How could someone as delicate as morning dew possibly set a jungle of a variety show on fire?

Frankly, I didn't fully believe it either.

But I believed one thing.

"It makes. Sense."

The future I'd seen.

"Don't tell me······ the spirits showed you the future this time as well?"

I gave a silent nod. Not the spirits, no — but I had seen the future, one way or another.

Arms crossed, Po Choi tapped his forearm with an index finger.

"But since when is public opinion a vending machine? You crack a joke, pop in a coin, and forgiveness drops out?"

"We're not after forgiveness. She was reckless — but she was refreshing. That's the whole point. The rest, time will take care of."

One last question came from Po Choi.

"What on earth did you see to be this confident? Park Songhwa hard-carrying a show — is that all you've got?"

"Three months from now, a Park Songhwa special episode hits, and PD Choi is laughing."

"······."

I'd added a little seasoning, but it was no lie.

— Ratings topped 15% yesterday, right? Best guest numbers this year? The network PDs are laughing, right?

So, according to that comment I'd just seen.

"Ha······ this is driving me crazy. Why does that work on me, seriously. Our graph has been sagging a bit lately······."

He muttered to himself, then pulled a business card from his wallet and held it out.

"You said you're with O2. Have them contact me through proper channels. I'll bring up the episode we film in two months for the internal review."

Po Choi checked his watch and hurried off to the meeting room.

Phew. Done. The shaman title is more useful than I expected.

I turned around with a strange sense of accomplishment — and froze.

"He's out of his mind······."

Team Leader Gu stood there, jaw hanging open in sheer horror.

The CEO's office at O2 Entertainment.

"······Say that again."

"PD Choi's side contacted our casting team. Regarding Park Songhwa's casting, they say they'll bring it up for internal review."

"That same door that told us 'we'll look into it' every single time we inquired?"

"Yes. That door······ was opened in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠five minutes in a hallway, by a road manager who joined the company today."

The department head swallowed hard before continuing.

"On paper, it's an unmistakable overstep of authority······."

"When an overstep brings in results, from that moment on it's called initiative."

"······Anyway, according to Team Leader Gu's report, PD Choi handed over his business card personally. The one our casting team couldn't get even after chasing him for months."

"······."

Cha Eunseong's eyes narrowed.

Don't trust shamans.

That principle still held. What he trusted was a track record. And that long-haired shaman, in just one day on the job······

"Put him on Park Songhwa's case."

"······That shaman, of all people?"

"There's something about his eyes. They only light up around Park Songhwa."

A few days later, Park Songhwa came to the company.

It was her first outing in nearly a month.

Black hat, black mask — and still, the thirty seconds it took to cross the lobby felt like an hour.

These days, Park Songhwa's days were spare. Wake up, search her own name. Spend the afternoon signing settlement paperwork for the penalty fee. Read comments under the covers at night, and cry.

She'd sold her beloved car last week. The apartment was up with a realtor.

Faced with a number like twelve billion won, even a top star's bank account didn't stand a chance.

······Don't tell me today's the day they notify me of contract termination······.

The clause had been there when she signed, after all: should a controversy arise during the term of the contract due to her own fault, the company could terminate the agreement, penalty fee included.

What do I do if they demand the penalty money on top of everything······.

Loyalty, after all, crumbles easily in front of money.

With a trembling heart, she opened the CEO's office door — and her eyes locked directly onto the long-haired man sitting on the sofa.

"Eep······!"

Park Songhwa backed away, still gripping the door handle.

"Wh-why is HE here?!"

"Say hello. As of today, he's your road manager."

"······I'm sorry — road······ manager? H-him?"

"That's right."

No, sir! CEO-nim!

Park Songhwa nearly let out a shriek and barely swallowed it back. A controversy caused by her own fault — and a flash of who currently held all the power in the room.

"······I'm sorry, but he terrifies me. Everything this man says comes true, you know. If he stays next to me and says something else, then I······."

"Songhwa. Let's get the order of events straight."

Cha Eunseong tapped the table with a fingertip.

"Which came first — the casino, or the broadcast?"

"······The casino."

"This man simply saw what you'd already done. Don't go swapping cause for effect."

"······."

Park Songhwa's head drooped sullenly.

"You're right······. I'm the one who went. Of my own two feet······."

Cha Eunseong came to the point.

"Our Hospital reached out. Recording is in two months. It's your comeback stage."

"Wh— hold on. Me? On Our Hospital? Back on variety after three months — do you know how much people hate me right now······? No, wait, before that. Why would they even take me? Who on earth······."

The department head quietly raised a finger and pointed at the sofa.

"······."

The long-haired shaman sat there, expressionless.

Wh-what····· IS this man?

As if reading her very thoughts, he gave a slow, wordless nod.

······Which made it all the more terrifying.

Park Songhwa sat down beside the long-haired shaman and asked.

"······Um, Mishin-ssi?"

"Yes."

"I······ I'm going to be okay, right?"

"Yes."

"······How can you be so certain?"

"Because I saw it."

For a man named "Spirit," it was an utterly absurd basis for certainty.

"······."

And yet — something strange. That day at the shrine, the fortunetellings of the three shamans who'd dished out only honeyed words had all missed. Only the bitter words of this man had come true.

So when a man like that says he's seen something······.

It weighed heavier than any blessing in the world.

Park Songhwa looked at Lee Mishin, eyes brimming with tears. Then she clenched her fists.

"······I'll do it."

Lee Mishin rose from his seat and bowed.

"I look forward to working with y—"

Before he could finish, Park Songhwa shot to her feet and bowed even deeper.

"N-no, I look forward to working with YOU! Um, but if you happen to see anything else in my future, maybe give me a heads-up so I can brace myself······ actually no, forget it. It's scary, so only the good things, please······."

"······."

"Oh! Coffee! What coffee do you drink? You're a shaman, so maybe jujube tea or ssanghwa tea? I'll go make some······ wait, this is an office, right. Right."

"······."

She asked, answered, and flustered herself — all entirely alone.

Cha Eunseong watched the scene and raised his teacup. It was a picture where you couldn't tell which one was the top star and which was the rookie. But regardless —

······Park Songhwa's public image recovers in just three months, hm······.

Frankly, he didn't believe it.

MBS's flagship variety show, Our Hospital.

Six fixed panel members lived in the hospital-room set as permanently admitted patients, and every week a new guest checked in as a fresh admit. The moment the newcomer opened the door and stepped inside, the official question came flying:

"What illness brought you here?"

The guest introduced themselves with an illness they'd prepared in advance, and from there the conversation flowed naturally. Inside the hospital room, everyone was equally a patient — no age, no career, no rank. Everyone spoke in casual banmal, from the Nation's MC down to an idol a single year into their debut, all reduced to the same patient-gown status.

And so, two months later — recording day.

The MBS corridors had been buzzing since morning.

"Park Songhwa's here."

"Already? So she really is coming out······."

"But get this — you know that shaman, right? The one who predicted her downfall. Word is he's stuck to her side as her manager."

"······What kind of pairing is that? Does he go around cursing people and then un-cursing them?"

"I saw her in person earlier and the aura is unreal. She walked past and the whole corridor went dead quiet."

The whispers snapped off cleanly each time the two passed, then resumed behind their backs.

······.

Hat pressed low, Park Songhwa felt every stare land on her like pins. Her legs wobbled.

But the long-haired man walking beside her looked straight ahead, indifferent to any of it. Not a flicker of waver. Not in his shoulders, not in his stride, not in his face.

Someone who's seen the future being this calm······ must mean it's going to be okay, right?

Somehow, it felt like walking with a protective charm pinned to her back.

Park Songhwa matched her steps to his back, little by little steadying her breath.

Of course, the truth behind that "charm" was a completely different story.

Ha, I'm losing it.

Lee Mishin was not, at this moment, in his right mind. The only reason he looked composed was that his facial muscles had been on strike for three years running.

Why won't it show me ANYTHING for two whole months?!

He knew the outcome. But the process — he still had no idea.

I got the answer key, but the working is a blank page.

He didn't know what the answer was, or whether it was a script or a broadcast disaster. And worst of all, there was one truly terrifying possibility he couldn't shake.

What if the very fact of me tagging along is the variable?

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A man who'd seen the future had gone and inserted himself into it. What if the butterfly effect knocked everything out of alignment?

Please······ let it unfold exactly as I saw it.

They arrived at the waiting room.

"I'll be waiting outside."

"O-okay······!"

"Ah — and take this."

Lee Mishin pulled a packet of Cheongsimhwan, the calming herbal pills, from his pocket and held it out.

"Have some."

"Oh······."

Park Songhwa received it reverently with both hands. Maybe because it came from a shaman, it somehow felt like it would work just like a talisman.

CLICK—

The moment the waiting room door closed, she saw the patient gown for broadcast hanging on a rack.

"Hoooooo······."

She clutched her chest. Her heart was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pounding like crazy.

"······."

She changed into the gown and stood before the mirror.

······You know, the gown kind of suits me?

Even mid-panic, she was turning this way and that, appraising her reflection.

Get it together, Park Songhwa. That's not what matters right now.

······It kind of did, though. She was standing in front of people for the first time in three months — might as well look pretty while she was at it.

She pulled out the script.

Her entrance line for the set. Her answer to Our Hospital's official question.

— What illness brought you here?

And the answer written for it:

— Princess Syndrome.

She could picture exactly how hard the writers must have racked their brains. Of all the illnesses she could claim in her current situation, the most harmless one available. She'd been called a princess since her debut, so it made the perfect self-deprecating gag, too.

Right. Easy.

She closed the script.

Princess Syndrome.

Frankly, she didn't even need to memorize it.

KNOCK KNOCK—

"Songhwa-ssi, you can head in now."

"!"

She stepped out of the waiting room.

Whew. Calm down. You drank the blessed Cheongsimhwan, remember.

She reached the door to the set. A staffer was murmuring something into an earpiece, and a low murmur of voices seeped through from beyond the door.

The teleprompter flashed. The staffer opened the door.

She put one foot forward.

SCREEECH—

In an instant, the wide hospital-room set spread out before her eyes.

"Whoa, we've got a new patient in our ward!"

"Who is it? Who is it? Gasp!"

"Why did the hospital room suddenly get so much brighter?!"

Cheers and applause. The main MC waved a hand.

"Wow, it's been so long!"

"Hyung, it's a patient you've never met. Why 'long time no see'?"

"There's a thing, there's a thing."

Laughter filled the studio.

"So — what illness brought you here?"

There it was. The question. All she had to do now was spit out the line she'd memorized minutes ago······.

······?

Suddenly she saw it — a figure standing tall behind the cameras.

Long hair. Expressionless. A pair of frost-cold eyes staring straight through her.

······!

Those eyes. The ones that had seen straight through her future, that day at the studio.

In an instant, her mind went completely white. She'd had it memorized just moments ago. She'd been repeating it over and over.

What was it?

······Remember, Park Songhwa!

Park Songhwa's illness. The illness that suited her perfectly.

It was, it was······.

"Gambling addiction······?"

Author's Note

Thank you for reading!