Chapter 14 – Graduate (14)
“Why can’t you understand me…!”
Song Sun-young snapped at me.
“I do understand.”
“No, you don’t understand at all! If you did, you’d know the race is pointless…!”
“It’s not pointless.”
“What—!”
“Because you promised you’d stop killing yourself if I win.”
“Is that so important?”
“It’s important. Far more than getting rich easily with future knowledge.”
I declared, meeting her glare head-on.
“…”
“…”
Song Sun-young looked away first, speaking in a slightly calmer tone.
“Kang Moon-soo, you’re the only one in this world who can understand me. Because you don’t lose your memories when we go back in time. Am I wrong?”
“You’re right.”
What she ordered at a fancy restaurant, what she fed the fish at the aquarium…
I’m the only one who remembers.
“No matter how much we fight, others forget because their memories are erased. But not you.”
Our memories persist through regression.
So, once our relationship sours, going back in time doesn’t fix it like flipping a hand.
“Moon-soo, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Same here.”
We didn’t just swim at the pool.
We laughed, played, talked…
We had so many joyful moments. And we were always together.
“Then why…?”
Song Sun-young asked, her face looking like she might burst into tears.
Throb.
Her expression pained my heart, but I pressed on.
“Sun-young, I have a memory you’ll never know.”
“A memory I’ll never know? There’s no way—”
“The sight of you dying.”
“…”
She, who treated suicide so lightly, fell silent.
“You said you lose consciousness before you die, so it’s fine, but I watched it all until the end.”
Her fragile body shattering as it hit the cold concrete.
The face of the girl who was laughing with me moments ago going blank, stained red—I’ve seen it countless times.
“…Then don’t watch.”
“Not watching doesn’t mean you don’t die.”
“…”
“I don’t want the girl I like to die anymore.”
“Oh…”
“So race me.”
Song Sun-young, briefly hesitating at my persuasion, spoke as if squeezing out her words.
“I still don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you get it? If I die, I can go back in time. I’ll get rich and live free from my aptitude.”
“Hm…”
‘As expected, it’s not easy.’
But I’m not impulsively saying things she doesn’t want to hear.
“Sun-young, I like you.”
“I don’t believe you. If you really liked me, you’d follow my opinion.”
“No, it’s because I like you that I can’t.”
“That’s just sophistry!”
“I’m scared. I’m terrified that the girl I like might really die. What if you kill yourself and don’t go back in time? What if time just keeps moving forward?”
“…That won’t happen.”
Song Sun-young denied it, her tone lacking confidence.
“Sun-young, we’re not gods. We’re frail humans who don’t even know why we have this privilege.”
“…”
“Don’t treat your life lightly. This could be your last one.”
No principles.
No precedents.
No source.
We’re recklessly abusing an occult we know nothing about.
‘It can’t end well.’
Humanity’s history, full of arrogance and regret, proves it.
I don’t want to regret.
“Don’t scare me. It’s been fine so far. The next time—”
“The next time could be different.”
“…”
“…”
Song Sun-young, her face now troubled, answered with effort, as if wringing out her voice.
“…I’ll race you.”
“Thank you!”
Whoosh!
Overwhelmed with emotion, I wrapped my arms around her. I knew how hard that decision was for her.
“…But I have a condition.”
“What?”
“This is the last race. And if I win…”
“If you win?”
“Be my Adam. Forever.”
“…”
I suddenly wished I’d lose to her quickly.
***
Having agreed not to commit suicide until the final race, Song Sun-young and I parted ways, planning for tomorrow.
“It’s been a while.”
Maybe because she’d always been by my side since I promised to help her?
I suddenly felt empty.
Also,
“Ugh…”
My smartphone, which I hadn’t glanced at once while learning to swim, put me in an awkward spot.
Missed Calls (14)
Unread Messages (5)
The price of relying solely on the occult and ignoring relationships and social rules.
For a moment, I wished to regress just one more time.
‘No, I can’t.’
One time becomes two, and two becomes three.
If my resolve wavers from the start, I’ll never beat Song Sun-young.
“It’s been a while here too.”
Click, creak-
My home is a shabby single room in the corner of the third floor of a rundown commercial building.
Originally a storage space, it’s freezing in winter and sweltering in summer—the worst living conditions—but it has the unbeatable advantage of cheap rent!
If I awaken my shamanic talent and start seeing ghosts, this place would probably be the first they’d visit.
“…”
In the bleak room, without even a single family photo, trash piles up in the corner.
I keep myself clean with laundry and baths to blend in at school, but everything else is a mess.
The result of pouring all my time and energy into my part-time job.
‘Rich from stocks…’
Song Sun-young’s words, spoken in her bikini, echoed like the devil’s temptation.
Is my judgment really correct?
If I were rich, I wouldn’t have to live in this dingy room. I could see her in that bold swimsuit every day!
“I’m already regretting—”
Knock, knock!
“Moon-soo, are you home? It’s your teacher.”
“Oh…”
A cautious knock and my homeroom teacher’s voice came from beyond the door.
‘Good grief! Did she come here in person because I didn’t answer her calls?’
Not wanting to show her my long-neglected home, I hurriedly tidied up.
‘Song Sun-young would laugh and ask why I bother cleaning.’
It’ll just get messy again if the occult triggers.
But I didn’t stop cleaning. If I stopped here, I’d end up complacent like her.
‘No more.’
A life where everyone but her feels like mannequins is wrong.
Including feeding soda to fish just because they annoyed me while swimming leisurely!
Me, Song Sun-young, my teacher, my friends, my neighbors…
We’re all equal people.
Knock, knock!
“Moon-soo!”
“Yes! Teacher! Just a moment!”
I answered honestly instead of pretending I wasn’t home.
‘How long has it been?’
It felt like forever since I acted while conscious of others’ gazes. And it didn’t feel bad.
Click.
Unlocking the door and carefully opening it, I saw my homeroom teacher holding a fruit basket.
“Are you okay?”
Her first words weren’t a scolding but concern for me.
“I’m fine.”
“Really? No injuries?”
“Yes.”
“When I heard you jumped out the classroom window without any safety gear, I was so shocked…”
“I’m sorry, Teacher.”
I wasn’t in my right mind with the situation repeating endlessly.
Jumping out a window because taking the stairs felt like a waste of time?
I was insane.
“Still, make sure to visit an orthopedic doctor later for a checkup. You might have a fracture.”
“Yes.”
I answered diligently, but I had no intention of seeing a doctor. I swam at full strength without any issues.
“Now… can you tell me why?”
Here it comes.
“I think the pressure of having my life decided by the aptitude test results got to me.”
“…”
“…”
“…I figured as much, but hearing it directly makes my heart ache.”
“I’m sorry for causing trouble.”
‘It worked!’
I expected it.
As the aptitude test approaches, every high school senior across the country gets sensitive.
It’s called “senioritis”!
Infamous enough to be a proper noun, “senioritis” is a handy excuse for kids my age.
Overeating, swearing, violence, cheating, running away…
It fits every situation, including jumping out of a classroom window!
‘Geez…’
I never thought I, a self-proclaimed rational citizen, would resort to excuses.
“Your place is a bit of a mess.”
“I’ve been busy with my part-time job…”
This single room is just a place for me to sleep.
“Where are your cleaning supplies?”
“Huh?”
“I should’ve guessed when I heard you had no guardian. I’ve been too neglectful as your teacher.”
“No, it’s fine! I’ll clean up on the weekend!”
“No need. Where are they—oh, here they are.”
“It’s really okay…”
I’d never shown anyone this embarrassing place.
And now cleaning?
It was too overwhelming, and I couldn’t look my teacher in the eye.
“This isn’t school…”
“Student Kang Moon-soo, a school isn’t just a workplace that pays teachers. It’s a place where we meet our scattered students.”
“Oh…”
“I’m cleaning because I want to. So you don’t need to feel burdened at all.”
“I’ll help.”
Tap, tap.
My messy home, reflecting my chaotic mind, was quickly tidied up.
“No matter what aptitude you get, I’ll cheer for you, Kang Moon-soo.”
“I know.”
That’s why you invited the shaman Yoo Il-am to school!
“Hm?”
“I meant I know you always look out for me.”
“If you know, don’t do dangerous things like jumping out of windows anymore.”
“Yes.”
My teacher and I cleaned the house diligently, sweating.
‘If we regress…’
I kept pushing back the temptation to give up easily.
Swish, swish-
“I had a time when I was lost like you, Kang Moon-soo,” my teacher said casually while putting away the cleaning supplies.
“Huh? Didn’t you say you became a math teacher because it matched your aptitude?”
“I never said the process was smooth.”
“Oh…”
Now that I think about it, that’s true.
“I was a student who liked history more than math.”
“History…?”
“I wasn’t better at it than math, but I found humanity’s history of repeating mistakes fascinating.”
“Oh, I see.”
I couldn’t relate.
“History doesn’t have clear answers. Even wars, universally condemned, accelerate science and medicine. Math, on the other hand, may have multiple methods, but only one correct answer.”
“Oh… I didn’t know. You often sounded pessimistic, though.”
Saying humans are the social animals with the worst memory on Earth…
So I didn’t realize my teacher liked history. I got the opposite impression at times.
“What are you talking about? I know history so well! It’s just memorizing the names of fools who repeat the same mistakes with different years. But I gave up teaching it.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t understand people who didn’t understand repeating history.”
“Oh…”
Even if you’re good at a subject, if it doesn’t suit your personality, it’s not your “aptitude”?
That’s a blind spot.
“Oh dear! I didn’t come here to complain… Thinking about taking P’s aptitude test brought back old memories.”
“It’s okay.”
“Don’t repeat the same mistakes like history, Kang Moon-soo.”
“Repeating…”
“I’m letting it slide because it’s your first time.”
Stab, stab!
My teacher’s words, unaware of my repeating mistakes, pierced my heart like a dagger.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I won’t repeat anymore.
“Kang Moon-soo, I’ll see you in class tomorrow, looking brighter.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“No, it’s what a homeroom teacher should do. I love you all more than history.”
“…I feel the same, Teacher.”
I don’t want to lose the teacher who remembers this moment.