When I dragged my snow-covered, defeated body back to the central plaza, I was fully prepared to offer a formal, humiliating apology to Class 2-B for losing our tactical target band in record time.
I walked straight into a wild victory celebration.
Class 2-A had actually won the entire competition. Our nominated target had played a stroke of pure strategic genius—the guy had deliberately drawn all the hunting heat toward himself while sneakily stripping off his red armband and burying it deep beneath the tangled roots of a massive pine tree. Even after my class eventually tackled him, they couldn't produce the physical target band. It had taken Jun-seo's team five extra agonizing minutes to locate the hidden cloth in the snow, handing Class 2-A a decisive overall victory.
"I'm really sorry I couldn't hold out longer," I grumbled, dusting the white powder off my sleeves.
My classmates just laughed, offering sympathetic pats on my back.
"Ah, Mountain, don't even worry about it! If Yoo Chae-rin designates you as her personal objective, there isn't a human being on this campus who survives that ambush."
I looked across the gravel courtyard toward Class 2-A's side. Chae-rin was currently celebrating her team's victory, surrounded by her friends. Somewhere in her guest group was Han Min-gyu, laughing along with the rest of the Class 2-A.
After a heavy lunch of hot kimchi stew at the main lodge, the scheduled neighborhood cultural tour commenced. About twenty students opted out to sleep or play board games in the warm detached wooden houses—including Chae-rin—while the rest of us zipped up our winter coats and met the local tour guide at the complex gates.
The guide led our group along the snow-dusted village trails, explaining the region's historical landmarks and rural folklore.
Our final destination of the afternoon was a weathered, isolated wooden hut nestled at the dark edge of the pine forest. The guide informed us that this was the residence of a famous local mudang—a traditional Korean shaman.
For a fee, students could enter her sanctuary and receive a personal fortune reading.
The divination cost a staggering 25,000 won.
It was ridiculously expensive for a five-minute reading, but since Mrs. Lee had explicitly authorized me to use my emergency card for any retreat expenses ("Spend whatever you need to enjoy yourself, San-gun"), I didn't hesitate.
I tapped the card at the entrance counter and pushed through the heavy wooden door.
The atmosphere inside hit me like a wall of cold, dense air.
The lighting was incredibly dim, cast only by the flickering amber glow of traditional paper lanterns resting on low wooden stands. Long, vibrant strips of red, yellow, and blue ceremonial cloth hung from the low roof beams like trailing vines, and dark, ancient Hanja characters were etched directly into the soot-stained wooden ceiling.
A sharp, involuntary shiver ran down my spine.
'Brrr... this place looks like a set straight out of a horror movie.'
I shuffled into the inner chamber, where an elderly woman clad in elaborate, traditional shamanic robes sat cross-legged on a woven floor mat.
She gestured toward the cushion across from her.
I bowed politely, sank onto the floor, and accepted a steaming cup of dark herbal tea she pushed toward me.
As I opened my mouth to speak—"Hello, I—"
Shhh.
The shaman instantly raised a thin, weathered finger directly to her lips, cutting me off in absolute silence.
She stood up abruptly.
Dozens of tiny brass bells and colorful silk ribbons attached to her robes chimed in unison with every sudden movement.
She reached over to an altar, picking up a heavy, ancient-looking shamanic tambourine.
Without another word, she began a wild, hypnotic dance around me, spinning in tight circles while her robes fluttered in the lantern light. She shook the tambourine furiously, chanting a low, rhythmic, and solemn mantra that filled the shadowy room.
'Well,' my inner Ukrainian voice deadpanned as I sat perfectly still holding my tea, 'at least she's actually working hard to earn those 25,000 won.'
The air in the room grew suffocatingly heavy.
Suddenly, the shaman came to a dead halt directly behind my back.
The tambourine went silent.
She leaned down until her raspy breath touched the back of my ear, speaking in a low, chilling whisper:
"There is an evil shadow following you. The shadow envies you... If you don't stop what you are doing..."
She suddenly let out a sharp, piercing whistle that echoed off the dark ceiling.
"...you shouldn't run away," she continued, her voice rising in a strange, hypnotic cadence. "Don't forget who you are and what you are worth. Put yourself in the first place. Start a riot. Don't put yourself into a glass cage... or you will coldly burn into the shadow that just noticed your existence. Beyond the horizon, there will be a signal for you, but you will need to catch it. If you decide not to..."
She suddenly swayed violently, her body freezing mid-sentence as if an invisible thread had been cut.
Silence swallowed the room once more.
She glided smoothly back around the mat and took her seat directly in front of me, smoothing her silk skirt.
Then, her terrifying, mystic aura vanished instantly into thin air.
"If you want to hear the rest of your future," she announced in a sly, cheerful, and ridiculously high-pitched commercial voice, "please pay 10,000 won more! :D"
My jaw nearly hit the floor.
'Aish...this absolute swindler!' I screamed internally, staring at her in complete disbelief. 'What kind of dramatic, theatrical nonsense was all that?!'
The shaman beamed at me happily, gesturing toward a sleek electronic card reader resting beside her ancient altar.
"Would you like to pay by card or in cash?"
"I... I am completely fine, thank you," I said stiffly, forcing a polite bow as I scrambled to my feet and made a very rapid exit out the front door.
The bright, cold afternoon sunlight was a massive relief as I stepped back onto the village path.
The next student in line immediately hurried inside to take my place, while a cluster of my classmates instantly swarmed around me with wide, curious eyes.
"How was it, San-ah?!" a girl from Class 2-B asked eagerly. "What did she say? Her divinations are supposed to be terrifyingly accurate!"
I let out a long, heavy sigh, adjusting my jacket collar against the cold wind.
"Accurate?" I scoffed, shaking my head in pure exasperation. "She just spoke complete, dramatic nonsense, tried to aggressively upsell me for ten grand more, and totally wasted my money."