Whenever I stayed by Grandpa’s side during consultations, I occasionally saw people who made me wonder if they had come for a reading or just to pick a fight.

  "If you're as divine as they say, why don't you guess why I'm here? You shouldn't have trouble figuring out what's bothering me, right?"

  At such times, Grandpa would reply like this.

  "I am not a shaman. I am a Saju-expert, a scholar of destiny. I need your birth date and time at the very least, and we need to exchange a few words before I can say anything worthwhile."

  But that was mild. Some customers even lied on purpose, trying to make Grandpa make a mistake just for their own amusement.

  In those cases, Grandpa would calmly retrace the steps of the reading. It wouldn't take long for the customer’s lie regarding a crucial detail to be exposed. Then, those people would always use the same old repertoire.

  "Why couldn't you tell I was lying? I thought you were a divine seer! Aren't you just a fraud?"

  Their goal was simple. They wanted to trip Grandpa up and make him look like a fool.

  Of course, if one were a shaman or a psychic, they might be able to see through such deceptions since their work relies on spiritual sight. But Grandpa was a physiognomist and a scholar of Myeong-ri, not a psychic. Their behavior showed a total lack of understanding of how the mechanics of Eastern philosophy work. This field of study reveals the peaks and valleys of a life, not a perfectly pinpointed future.

  For a consultation to work, the client must open their heart and connect with the practitioner. Only then can they discover aspects of themselves they never knew.

  But those who came just to pick a fight would usually say this.

  "Just get on with it and guess!"

  Grandpa found these situations truly difficult.

  Lately, after being featured in local and major Seoul newspapers, many people came just to test him. While the increased income meant fewer scoldings from Grandma, the amount of stress he endured from difficult customers increased astronomically.

  Grandpa jokingly called this the 'Law of Total Stress,' but he was genuinely struggling.

  "I swear! I want to throw all this money away and just quit! There are just too many people looking for a fight. Even if I consider this the price of fame, it’s getting to be too much."

  But Grandma would say this.

  "This is your job. Did I force you to do this? Didn't you start this because you wanted to? If you hate it that much, go be a day laborer or a construction helper. As long as the money coming in is the same, I won't say a word."

  Grandpa was not built for the kind of manual labor Grandma mentioned. According to his own Saju, he was meant to read and study, not to use his physical strength for work.

  One day, amidst a flood of customers, a middle-aged woman with glasses sat across from Grandpa. She looked like she had come to torment him rather than to get a reading. Without even providing her birth details, she blurted out.

  "So you're the famous shaman? I don't need anything else. Just give me the winning lottery numbers."

  She glared at Grandpa in silence after saying that. Grandpa suppressed his irritation and spoke as calmly as possible.

  "This is not a shaman's shrine. This is a Saju-analysis studio and a counseling center. If you want to see a shaman, please go find one. I won't charge you for this. Goodbye."

  He politely asked her to leave, but the woman continued to provoke him.

  "You mean you can't even guess a few lottery numbers for next week? What kind of shaman are you? You’re just a scammer and a fraud!"

  She started shouting. Regulars who knew Grandpa clicked their tongues in disapproval, but new customers in the waiting area began to whisper.

  "Is he really a fraud?"

  Just then, Grandpa saw me passing by the consultation room.

  "Hyeon-jin! I'm thirsty! Fetch me a bowl of cold water."

  I was slightly annoyed.

  I was just about to go play, and now he wants water.

  I grumbled internally, but I couldn't refuse. I ran to Grandma, got a tray with a bowl of cold barley tea, and entered the room.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  'Ugh, what a nuisance. This lady is making Grandpa so cranky again.'

  As I leaned down to place the bowl on the table, I saw something inside the woman's large handbag. Though I was young, growing up in a studio had made me quicker than most kids my age. After catching a glimpse inside the bag, I whispered quietly into Grandpa’s ear.

  "There's a hymn book in her bag."

  At that single sentence, a spark ignited in Grandpa’s weary eyes. He closed them for a moment, as if in deep thought, then gulped down the cold tea in one go.

  [Gulp, gulp, gulp!]

  He finished the water and slammed the bowl onto the table with a loud thud.

  "Hey! If you're so curious, go ask your own God! Do you think this is a church or a shaman's shrine?"

  The woman's eyes widened at Grandpa’s sudden outburst.

  She fell for it!

  She had fallen right into Grandpa’s 'Bluffing Technique.'

  The Bluffing Technique.

  It is a conversational skill where one intimidates the opponent by acting as if they know something they actually don't, forcing the other person to reveal the truth.

  To use this technique, one must make the opponent firmly believe that you can see through everything. Usually, Grandpa would throw out a few likely guesses based on a person's Saju, though it didn't always work.

  In this woman's case, she hadn't even given her birth details, so Grandpa had been completely defenseless.

  When the usually refined Grandpa started shouting, the people in the waiting area grew curious about what was happening. To let them see better, I slipped over and slightly opened the sliding paper door of the room. Grandpa rewarded my quick thinking with a subtle smile.

  'I really am a genius at reading the room.'

  The woman tried to come up with an excuse, but the momentum had already shifted to Grandpa. People started whispering. Someone in the waiting area seemed to recognize her.

  "Wait! Isn't that Mrs. Pyo from the church?"

  "What? What is a church member doing here?"

  "Exactly. Shouldn't she just get her answers from Jesus?"

  Then, another person added grumpily.

  "She probably came here just to harass Dosa. She’s been picking a fight for a while now. She’s just being a nuisance, making the rest of us wait."

  "Seriously. If she's not getting a reading, she should just go home."

  As the crowd began to criticize her, Grandpa delivered the final blow.

  "Ask your own God! Or ask your pastor, your deacon, or your elder! Why on earth are you asking me?"

  The woman couldn't find the words to respond. Emboldened by his victory, Grandpa continued.

  "What? Did the Lord not give you the lottery numbers when you asked? Why ask me then? Do I look more capable than your Lord?"

  She remained silent.

  "By the way, do the people at your church know you're here?"

  When Grandpa said that, the woman covered her face like someone whose deepest secret had been exposed and bolted out of the room. She scrambled to grab her shoes and fled the studio.

  Seeing her leave, Grandpa shouted after her.

  "Scatter some salt! Ptooey!"

  Grandma immediately shouted back from the kitchen.

  "There's no salt to waste! Do you think salt just grows on trees? Why would I throw perfectly good salt on the road because of a nuisance who didn't even pay!"

  After this incident, Grandpa became even more famous.

  Grandpa once told me that when you suddenly become famous, there is a tax you must pay to the world. He called it 'The Tax of Fame.'

  When you become a famous Saju-expert, rival shamans or other practitioners often hire people to spy on you or try to make you lose confidence so you'll quit the business. Even well-meaning colleagues would visit as undercover customers just to hear how you interpret a chart.

  Whenever they saw a potential mistake, they would pounce, but Grandpa managed to block almost all their attacks with his quick wit.

  With every attack he fended off, his fame grew, and so did the 'Tax of Fame' he had to pay. Some Saju-experts even brought the charts of their own clients to compare their interpretations with Grandpa’s. Of course, they paid the fee, but Grandpa didn't particularly enjoy those kinds of customers.

  But in the case of that church woman, she was a complete stranger who had come to pick a fight without any logic. Grandpa confessed to me later that he had been at a loss for what to do.

  However, after that incident, he never fell for nuisances like her again. Instead, he would toy with them and eventually catch them off guard.

  If someone started calling him a fraud, he would just listen and say this.

  "You can harass me with words all you want. My wife's nagging is far scarier than anything you can say. Go ahead, curse at me if you want. Just make sure you pay before you leave."

  Then, a young and handsome man visited the studio.

  Handsome men of that age rarely come to a place like ours. Usually, slick guys like him had different habitats, and it certainly wasn't an old-fashioned studio like this.

  Should I just turn him away? He looks suspicious...

  But at that moment, there were no other customers, and Grandma was standing behind me with a sharp look in her eyes.

  If I turn him away, my life might be in danger.

  Feeling the threat to my survival, I immediately led the customer to Grandpa in the consultation room. He entered and sat down quietly and politely.

  Maybe he's not a nuisance after all.

  However, after providing his birth date and time, he just sat there with his head bowed, saying nothing. Frustrated by the silence, Grandpa spoke first.

  "What are you curious about? What's bothering you? You have to speak so we can begin the consultation."

  At that, the customer replied.

  "Isn't guessing those things your job? I came because I heard you were divine, but was it just a rumor?"

  Grandpa looked at him sternly.

  "This is not a shaman's shrine. This is a Saju Philosophy Studio."

  "Aren't they both for telling fortunes?"

  I couldn't stand it anymore and chimed in. I knew I would get scolded for interrupting Grandpa, but I was so frustrated that the sarcasm just slipped out.

  "Mister, you should just go to the shaman's house down the street."

  "Hyeon-jin, you brat! Didn't I tell you not to interrupt during a reading?"

  As Grandpa scolded me, he began to study the man’s face very closely.