---
I knew something was off the moment I entered the classroom.
It wasn't the eerie silence.
It wasn't the fact that Jun-Pyo was already awake and sitting properly.
It was the way everyone turned to look at me like I was about to lead a cult meeting.
"Here he comes," someone whispered.
> "That's Ji-Hoon-oppa. The Mind Whisperer."
"I heard he talks to ghosts through his phone."
"He told a dad his socks were ugly. Iconic."
Then, our class president, Hyun-Woo, walked up to me holding a clipboard.
"Ji-Hoon," he said seriously, "we have a situation."
I blinked. "Is this about the PTA again? Because I didn't even say yes to the dried anchovy endorsement deal—"
"No. This is worse. Teachers are fighting over you."
---
Teacher Trouble 101
Apparently, my sudden "psychic popularity" had spread across the faculty like a suspicious rash.
It started with Ms. Oh (the dramatic literature teacher), who still believed the anonymous love letter was from me.
> "He understands emotion. I must mentor his poetic soul."
— Ms. Oh's inner monologue while sipping black tea like a tragic novelist.
Then Mr. Park, our math teacher, decided he was the real one guiding my success.
> "He aced my quiz. Clearly, my strict methods unlocked his brain chakra."
Even Coach Jung got involved.
> "That kid once caught a dodgeball. With one hand. Psychic? No. Warrior blood. He's joining my dodgeball team if it kills him."
Teachers began dropping by class during lunch, each trying to win my loyalty like I was an unsigned K-pop trainee.
Mr. Park handed me a brand-new calculator.
Ms. Oh gave me a leather notebook "for my thoughts."
Coach Jung gave me... beef jerky.
I accepted them all. I'm weak.
---
Class President Crisis
But that's when Hyun-Woo—our beloved rule-obsessed, spreadsheet-loving class president—lost it.
He slammed his clipboard on the teacher's desk.
"This is academic favoritism! Our classroom is not a talent agency!"
> "This school is collapsing. Next thing you know, he'll have an agent and fan meetups in the cafeteria."
He turned to me.
"Ji-Hoon, as class president, I demand you tone down the mind-reading nonsense."
"I never toned it up to begin with!"
> "He's innocent. But also, possibly cursed."
Hyun-Woo sighed and dramatically pulled out a laminated school policy guide.
Then he began reading:
"Article 14: No student shall profit from or weaponize supernatural advantages for social dominance."
There was no such rule, but no one dared question it.
---
Meanwhile… In the Shadows: Bora's Black Market
Back home, I discovered something far more terrifying.
My sister Bora had set up a literal black market at school.
She'd printed little chibi drawings of me with sparkles and dramatic quotes like:
> "I can hear your heart louder than your voice."
– Kim Ji-Hoon (maybe never said this, but sounds deep)
And next to the merch table (our living room), she was selling my autograph for 500 won a pop.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
She looked up with innocent eyes.
"Business. Also, I made 12,000 won today."
> "Maybe I'll print shirts next. Want to see the sample? It says 'Oppa Knows All' across the chest."
"I WILL CALL MOM."
"Too late. She's printing stickers with your baby photo on them."
My soul left my body.
I became one with the wallpaper.
---
Phone Buzzed – Of Course
> Daily Summary:
— You are now known by at least 3 nicknames:
—— "Mind Whisperer"
—— "Calculator Prince"
—— "Oppa of Omniscience"
— Your class president is writing a petition to legally classify your phone as a weapon.
— Your sister made more money today than you've made in your life.
— Emotional stability: Low.
— Facial muscle strain from forced smiling: High.
---
Ending the Day… Barely
I sat in bed that night, surrounded by the gifted calculator, the poetry notebook, and a suspiciously spicy piece of beef jerky.
The phone buzzed again.
> "Any final thoughts for today, prophet?"
"Yeah," I whispered. "I miss being average."
> "Too late. You've been branded.
Good luck explaining the autograph on Hyun-Woo's forehead tomorrow."
I screamed into my pillow.
---