There is one famous genre of horror that many people often disregard; yet, it is so effective that it is pre-integrated into many of the most enduring stories. The hulking mass of Cthulhu, the Megalodon, the moon with a face—the thought that in the mysterious unknown something so gigantic and incomprehensible exists makes us almost reverently fearful of the idea: a “cosmic dread.” This is favored by many horror enjoyers due to its lasting impact on the mind. Unlike surface-level jump scares or visual frights, it carries a looming, persistent sense that something is out there. Many people enjoy this fear, assuming it remains purely mythological.

For the first time in my life, I encountered this concept through a real-life parallel—world problems condensed into a university program, hitting my stomach with numbers and outliers that suggest a “world’s end” scenario by the time I reach my 40s. As cliché as it sounds, I was able to glimpse the full depth of how our free market, globalization, and world system are moving along a troubling trajectory. And, ironically, I find myself next in line to be bound to this wheel—I am, in a sense, a successor to the world’s problems.

I am, in a sense, a successor to the world’s problems.

A lesson I learned at OST (Oxford-Stanford-Taejae) university program.

We always have a choice—and one choice I find myself tempted by is to abandon the ship entirely. It would solve many immediate burdens in my life to simply stop thinking about it, to let it drift, to return to the ignorant mass without awareness of the future we might otherwise shape.

How many of us once dreamed of making “a better world” as our own small star in the distance, only to have that vision shattered by reality?

The rose is dead, the fox lied, and the little prince is lost forevermore in the darkness.The cosmic entity has swallowed it whole.

The dread passes quickly, though, when you realize it bleeds when you stab it.

Throughout the Changemakers program, I met students from top majors—already the output of professionals to come: talented, educated, and prepared to enter the real world. Ranging from engineering to MBA to sociology, they have utilized the assets granted to them and made it this far. It was astounding how many of them were willing to engage with and listen to Taejae freshmen from a university they had never even heard of. They were talented, intuitive, and clear about what they wanted to do next.

Then, through lectures and field trips, I observed the hidden glue that keeps our system running: technicians developing new sources of fusion energy; private diplomats engaging in sustainability talks with global corporations; local companies servicing customers with hydro-engine replacements. They identify weak points within systems and work to gradually reshape what already exists. None of these efforts are easy—often harder than their competitors’, because they prioritize so-called “dull” values like sustainability, respect, and trust. In a world where the little prince is lost.

But one similarity I observe between these majors and the veterans of change is that they are “forged.” They are pragmatists and realists. They know money talks, but they also know how to talk around it. They can initiate dialogue, persuade opponents, and make them see the value of mutually beneficial outcomes. These individuals understand their roles within systems that have outlived them in age, yet they still work to reshape them. Whether through self-managed hedge funds, collaboration with top economists, or startups, many are venturing into spaces most would not dare explore—taking a cautious step into this cosmic entity within their own spheres of influence.

They stare at the ever-creeping monstrosity of global issues and choose to approach it with a steady, deliberate stride.

Now, how does a mere freshman who has just finished his third rhetoric essay fit into this equation?