Let’s rewind.

You remember how I gave that soul-piercing death stare to the doctor? Yeah, the one that made him reconsider every life decision he ever made? That wasn’t even the highlight.

The real show?

That poor random kid outside the clinic—he tripped, spun, and face-planted with full anime sound effects before sliding elbow-first across the sidewalk like a broken Beyblade.

Me (baby edition):

Heh. Comedy gold. 10/10 fall. Would watch again.

Anyway, after that beautiful elbow slam moment, I finally got to go home.

My new home.

Robot Narrator (popping up on screen with a cheerful ding):

“Hey hey! You’re probably wondering—what does lil’ Joon-Woo mean by ‘new home’? Well, before this, he lived in a 4-by-4 shoebox-sized room, and his mom tried real hard to make it sound poetic for readers. It was basically a rice cooker with wallpaper!”

So there I was—crawling proudly across the floor with a huge baby grin like I was the king of a plastic kingdom.

Everything was bright and shiny. I thought life was finally giving me a break.

BUT NO.

Before I could even drool on the welcome mat, my parents pulled out a surprise:

They invited a shaman.

Baby Kang Joon-Woo (narrating angrily):

“MY FIRST DAY HOME! And y’all summon a man wearing 12 necklaces and sandals made of garlic??”

He entered like a boss, waved some sticks, threw salt everywhere like he was marinating a roast, and yelled,

“The spirit has been taken away!!”

Uhh... what spirit?

Sir, the only thing that was taken was my peace.

Park Ae-cha (present day):

“You looked so cute when you pouted!”

Baby Joon-Woo (also present day):

“I do not look cute when I pout!”

Park Ae-cha:

“Yes you do. Always.”

Joon-Woo:

“This is the girl I fall for in the future? Destiny really be playing games…”

Anyway, the shaman scammed my parents real good. Took the salt, took their money, and poof, vanished.

But hey—I couldn’t say anything at the time. I was still in my buga-buga phase.

To them, I was just a cute potato with 0 language skills and 100% squish.

But jokes on them—because while they were busy warding off imaginary ghosts, I was writing stuff. Like, actual stuff.

My name. My parents’ names. A full family tree. Algebra.

Yeah. I was basically doing taxes in crayons.

My dad?

Started telling everyone in the village like he’d just birthed Albert Einstein.

Dad:

“In my past life, I must’ve saved the nation to get a genius son like this!”

Mom:

Started planning my wedding before I could even tie my shoelaces. She was like,

“By 10, I’ll need to find him a suitable bride! Do kids still do arranged marriages? Should I download a dating app for toddlers?”

---

Fast-forward: The year is 2021.

I, Kang Joon-Woo, am now 17 years old.

I’ve grown up—well, somewhat.

Scruffy black hair (still a mess), hoodie that says “Do Not Disturb Unless Snacks,” eyes that look like I haven’t slept since 2004.

And today is THE DAY:

CSAT Day.

I was sprinting through the town square like a madman. Cold wind slapping my face. Breath puffing like smoke. Legs moving like I owed someone money.

“CSAAAAAT!”

Robot Narrator (zooming in):

“Quick lesson! CSAT—aka the College Scholastic Ability Test—is South Korea’s ultimate boss fight. 9 hours. One shot. Entire country pauses. Planes grounded. Coffee sales spike. Students tremble. Crying is free. Good luck!”

While I’m mid-sprint, heart about to explode, I hear a voice—

“AYGO! Joon-Woo-yah!”

It’s... the fish uncle.

Of all people.

Fish Uncle (smiling like a squid):

“Why you running like your pants are on fire?”

Me (gasping):

“CSAT... must... go...!”

Fish Uncle:

“CSAT? What is CAT? You chasing a cat?”

Me:

“NO! Not cat! C-S-A-T! It’s the college exam!”

Fish Uncle:

“Ahh. Sounds boring. Anyway, can you help me move these boxes to my stall?”

Me:

“Uncle, I’m gonna be late—”

Fish Uncle (cutting me off):

“I know you. You can’t say no when someone says ‘help me’. You’re too nice.”

Me:

(Dead inside) “Why am I like this...?”

So there I was, CSAT minutes away, helping this fish-scented uncle carry 12 boxes of frozen mackerel like it was my civic duty.

---

Meanwhile at the CSAT hall entrance...

Dad (losing it):

“IF THIS BOY SHOWS UP LATE AND SAYS ‘I FORGOT SOMETHING,’ I’M GONNA SNAP!”

Mom (nervously pacing):

“Maybe someone asked him for help... he can’t say no...”

Dad (rage level 9999):

“WHOEVER IT IS—THEY’RE GONNA DIEEEEEEE!!”

Back at the stall...

Fish Uncle (scratching his ear):

“Hmm... just six boxes left now.”

---

TO BE CONTINUED...