Chapter 9 – Graduate (9)
[Chapter 1 – Verse 3] I Hate Being a Swimmer
Song Sun-young’s middle and high school life wasn’t particularly special or remarkable compared to other girls.
Just,
“Sun-young.”
“What?”
“Do you, maybe, have a boyfriend?”
She had plenty of opportunities for romance and youth.
“I don’t.”
Her long, slender legs and model-like figure naturally attracted male students.
“Oh! Then how about watching a movie together…”
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
“It doesn’t have to be today! I’ll match your schedule!”
“Sorry, I’m busy every day.”
“R-right.”
And Song Sun-young’s response was always the same.
A boyfriend?
She had no intention of thinking about it until she saw the results of the aptitude test in her final year of high school.
“Sun-young, be honest. What don’t you like about me?”
“Your aptitude.”
“Aptitude? We haven’t taken the test yet, so we don’t know.”
“That’s why I don’t like you.”
“What does that mean…?”
“Let me say it again. I don’t like you because I don’t know your aptitude.”
“Oh…”
The criteria for “adulthood” vary by country, but generally, the aptitude test is taken around age 19.
In other words, you don’t know your aptitude—what you’re good at or destined to do—until you’re an adult.
“But still, go out with me! We’ll find out our aptitudes when we’re third-years—”
“Sorry, I’ll think about it later.”
“…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just sensitive. Find a normal girl who isn’t so picky.”
Some people enjoy their fleeting teenage years and break up later if their partner’s aptitude isn’t to their liking, but Song Sun-young couldn’t do that.
Because once she opened her heart, she’d fling it wide open!
So, her “first boyfriend” was highly likely to become her husband.
‘I need to be careful.’
It’s premature to assume she couldn’t break up, but her caution about a partner’s aptitude is normal. Many single people in their 20s check a potential partner’s aptitude first.
Why?
In a capitalist society, low-paying jobs aren’t popular.
“She rejected another guy.”
“I knew she would.”
“Sun-young’s too much.”
“Because of aptitude…”
No matter what the boys around her whispered, Song Sun-young’s stance never wavered.
And more than her future spouse, she worried about her own aptitude.
‘Please!’
Anything but arts or sports!
After taking the aptitude test in the school gymnasium, she prayed fervently with her friends while awaiting the results.
“Number 12, Song Sun-young.”
“Yes.”
She opened the envelope handed to her by her homeroom teacher with a flourish.
Swish-
“No, no way…”
Swimmer
The one thing she desperately wanted to avoid—arts or sports—had come up.
***
“…So I killed myself.”
Song Sun-young’s monologue, delivered while precariously standing on the rooftop railing, finally ended.
“Hm? That’s it?”
“Yeah. What more explanation or embellishment do you need?”
“Summing up your story, which included unnecessary details about being popular with guys, you killed yourself because you didn’t like your aptitude.”
“Exactly.”
“Is that really serious enough to trade your one and only life for?”
“Absolutely!”
“Hm…”
I couldn’t understand Song Sun-young’s mindset.
When “shaman” came up as my aptitude, I felt lost about how to live, and that hasn’t changed, but I never thought about giving up on life.
“Just one question.”
“Go ahead.”
“You’ve killed yourself five times. Aren’t you scared?”
I could never do it. Jumping off the school rooftop would hurt like hell when you hit the ground.
Song Sun-young answered in a flat tone.
“Not at all.”
“Not at all?”
“Don’t misunderstand. The first time, I was scared too. But after realizing I’d go back in time, it didn’t bother me.”
“But it still hurts like hell.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Hm?”
“When you jump off the rooftop, you lose consciousness before you hit the ground.”
“Oh!”
So she goes back in time without even feeling the pain?
Now I understood why Song Sun-young could decide to kill herself so easily.
“My turn to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why do you think I’ve killed myself five times?”
“Hm? Well…”
I was starting to get confused myself.
“You’re wrong.”
“Then six times…?”
“Completely off. I’ve killed myself 42 times.”
“…”
I understood perfectly why she treated suicide so lightly.
***
What happens when a person dies?
Since ancient times, humans, fearing death, have made various claims.
First, reincarnation, endlessly repeating life and death like a hamster wheel.
Second, rebirth, where only the chosen are born again in another world.
Third, resurrection, judged and living eternally in heaven or hell.
Fourth, cessation, stopping all activity like an unplugged electronic device.
Fifth…
Some even deny the existence of the world we live in and life itself!
In other words, views on what happens after death vary greatly depending on personal values and religion.
My take?
‘When you die, that’s it.’
Humans.
I don’t attach special meaning to this primate, this mammal.
But without clear evidence, my view is just another claim.
And yet—
“Damn occult.”
Even I, who respects and accepts others’ views, found it hard to accept Song Sun-young’s phenomenon.
“Occult?”
“It’s too unfair.”
“What is?”
“Think about it. If you kill yourself and go back in time, what happens to the world where you’re gone?”
“It disappears, probably.”
Song Sun-young answered my serious question nonchalantly.
“…What about the law of conservation of energy?”
“I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s the law that the total amount of energy before and after a transformation is always constant.”
“So what?”
“If all the mass in the universe disappeared and turned into energy—”
“Stop!”
Song Sun-young suddenly covered her ears with her palms and shouted.
“Why?! What’s wrong?!”
“Sorry. I hate science.”
“…”
I was the fool for expecting an intellectual conversation grounded in science.
‘Right. I’m the fool.’
My stubbornness in denying this occult situation while trying to approach it scientifically must be the problem.
Still,
“The condition for going back in time with this occult makes no sense. People are constantly dying somewhere on Earth. If the universe disappeared every time, time wouldn’t flow like this.”
Person A dies and regresses, Person B dies and regresses, Person C dies and regresses, Person D dies and regresses…
Forget time flowing normally—it’d be running backward.
“Shaman.”
Song Sun-young looked at me with a pitying gaze.
“What? Is my reasoning wrong?”
“You can’t compare me to others.”
“What’s different?”
“There’s only one Song Sun-young in this universe.”
“There’s only one of me too.”
I, Kang Moon-soo, a third-year high schooler working nights at a convenience store, can confidently say there’s only one of me in the universe.
Isn’t there a saying, “You’re the protagonist of your own life”?
“You’re ordinary.”
“You’re not?”
In a story where everyone’s the protagonist, everyone’s also a supporting character.
“Of course not. I go back in time when I die. That’s my unique ability.”
“That’s just post hoc reasoning.”
“It’s like a report card, isn’t it? How much you studied doesn’t matter.”
“Hm…”
She’s not wrong. Effort and grades don’t always correlate.
“But don’t be too disappointed. You’re not ordinary either, shaman. You don’t lose your memories, do you?”
“Well…”
Song Sun-young lumping me into her “special kind” left me short on counterarguments.
‘Now that I think about it, she’s right.’
I don’t know why an ordinary guy like me retains memories.
I brought it up first, but is it, as she mistakenly thinks, because I’m a “shaman”?
No idea.
“Honestly, I was surprised. I didn’t expect a shaman to nitpick about science.”
“…”
My aptitude is just “shaman”—I haven’t become a real shaman like Yoo Il-am. I don’t have any foundational knowledge.
‘…Should I ask Yoo Il-am?’
No, that’s too much.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Anyway, shaman, think about your headache-inducing science on your own later.”
“Fine.”
“The reason I killed myself right after we parted at the convenience store was to confirm.”
“Confirm what?”
“If your memories really stay intact.”
“And your thoughts on that?”
“I’m satisfied.”
Song Sun-young, standing precariously on the rooftop railing without any safety measures, smiled softly, her eyes crinkling.
A look of salvation.
Exaggerating a bit, pure joy!
It was not the face of someone in a precarious situation where a single misstep could lead to a fall.
“I couldn’t ask anyone for help.”
“Why? You have parents, teachers, friends…”
“It felt futile. When I go back in time, they all forget.”
“…”
I almost snapped that she should stop killing herself if she didn’t like it but held back.
Because I could guess her reason.
“Forty-two times. That’s how many times I killed myself when things didn’t work out.”
“Hm…”
When things don’t go our way, we grit our teeth and choose the next best option because we can’t undo them.
But what if you could artificially reverse them?
That’s the devil’s temptation.
“Help me.”
“Me, help you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve repeated the same situation 42 times and still haven’t solved it?”
Unless you’re challenging the impossible or have some kind of issue, failing that many times seems unlikely.
“There is something.”
“What do I need to help with?”
“First, promise you’ll help no matter what.”
“…”
That’s highly suspicious.
“It’s in your best interest to help me, shaman. Unless you want to keep taking the same classes every day.”
“…I promise.”
“Really?”
“Really. So tell me.”
I want to stop solving problem 3 on page 338 too.
***
The aptitude testing device, invented by the mysterious figure known only as “P,” completely transformed human history.
Politics, culture, economy, leisure, sports, services, education, science…
Every field became specialized, eliminating inefficient labor and wasted talent.
“My aptitude is swimmer.”
“You told me that at the start. And that you hate it.”
No matter how good a policy is, there are always side effects.
P’s aptitude testing device, universally praised and adopted from developed to developing nations, is no exception.
“I want to change my aptitude.”
“Give up.”
I struggled with fantasy novels, but it didn’t make a difference.
“You promised to help.”
“I want to help. But how do I help with something impossible?”
“You promised to help. Prom-ise!”
“Geez…”
“You’ll help, right?”
“…Fine. I’ll help you change your aptitude.”
“Yay!”
Was she nervous I’d break my promise?
Song Sun-young visibly brightened.
‘But it’s impossible…’
Before I was born, before P’s aptitude testing device became mainstream, scammers selling “aptitude-changing drugs” were rampant.
And now?
Unverifiable “drugs for good aptitudes” are thriving on the black market.
“You must’ve tried the drugs already…”
“Yeah. I even died once from an overdose before I could take the aptitude test.”
“Don’t say that like it’s something to brag about!”
It seems her death triggers the occult, even if it’s not from jumping off the school rooftop.
“I’ve tried every effort I could on my own.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah, everything.”
“And there’s still something you can’t do alone?”
“There is.”
“No way…”
Aptitude is ultimately about self-improvement. No one can do it for you.
“Listen. They say aptitude is heavily influenced by the mind.”
“The mind? Like the soul?”
I’m done with the occult.
“Belief. Strong confidence that you’re good at something.”
“Hm…”
Song Sun-young’s theory, picked up from who-knows-where, sounded as dubious as the occult.
‘It’s all a scam.’
Not a single case of someone claiming to have changed their aptitude has been verified. Alien sightings are more credible.
Anything claiming to change aptitude is just a money-making scheme exploiting people’s desperation and anxiety.
P’s aptitude testing device isn’t flimsy enough to be swayed by drugs or prayers.
History proves it.
“That’s why I need your help. It’s hard to do alone.”
“Do we have to?”
“Absolutely!”
“…”
“I’ve tried every other method. This is the last one.”
The last one.
If this method, requiring my help, fails, she’ll give up completely.
And if she gives up?
The occult ends.
‘No choice, then.’
Unless I plan to watch or confine her all day to prevent her suicide.
There’s no other option.
“How do I help?”
“Do you, by any chance, know how to swim?”
“Hm?”
From that moment, I began challenging the impossible.