PART 1: A NEW CHAPTER BEGINS

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the small town as Ji-hoon sat by the window of his room, staring at the suitcases lying neatly on the floor. The reality of his departure was beginning to settle in. In just a few weeks, he would leave this familiar place—the quiet streets, the friendly neighbors, the comforting routine of his daily life—and step into the fast-paced world of Seoul.

The Royal University of South Korea was a month away from starting, and Ji-hoon knew he had to make every moment count before the big transition. The scholarship he had earned was generous, covering his tuition, dormitory, and even a small living stipend, but Seoul was an expensive city. He would need more than just the scholarship money to survive comfortably in a place where even the simplest meals could cost several times what he was used to paying.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Seoul was nothing like the town he had grown up in. The last time he had visited the city was for his entrance exams, and even then, he had barely had time to process the enormity of it all. His memories of the capital were vivid—the endless rows of skyscrapers reflecting the sun, the deafening noise of traffic, the sheer number of people bustling through the streets like an unstoppable tide. It was a city that never rested, a place of endless possibilities but also overwhelming chaos.

Ji-hoon recalled stepping out of the train station, feeling completely dwarfed by the buildings that stretched into the sky. Cars zoomed past in a blur of red and white lights, and electronic billboards flashed advertisements in bright colors. He had never seen anything like it. His hometown, with its small, closely-knit community, felt like a different world in comparison. Here, people didn’t stop to chat with their neighbors. Everyone was in a rush, moving with purpose, driven by ambition.

It was a city of the elite, a place that thrived on wealth and power. The Royal University itself was a breeding ground for future CEOs, politicians, and business tycoons. Ji-hoon had worked relentlessly to earn his place there, but now that the moment was approaching, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing uncertainty in his chest.

His scholarship ensured that his basic needs would be covered, but there were other expenses to consider—transportation, food, and even social activities. He had read about the lifestyle of university students in Seoul, and it was clear that surviving solely on scholarship funds would be tough.

His parents had already done so much for him. His father worked long shifts at the office, his eyes tired from years of working. His mother, despite her frail health, took on extra sewing work to contribute to the household income. They had always put their children first, ensuring Ji-hoon and his younger siblings never lacked anything essential. The thought of burdening them further made Ji-hoon uneasy.

He stood up, stretching his arms before walking toward the small wooden desk in the corner of his room. A single sheet of paper lay on top—a list of potential part-time jobs he had written down. He had spent the past few days researching ways to earn extra money once he arrived in Seoul.

* Convenience store cashier

* Tutoring high school students

* Delivery driver

* Campus assistant

* Freelance translation work

Each option had its pros and cons. A convenience store job would offer stable pay but long, exhausting hours. Tutoring would be ideal, but he would need to find students quickly. Delivery work paid well, but without a motorbike, he would be limited in the orders he could take. Campus assistant jobs were competitive, and freelance work depended entirely on luck and connections.

He knew balancing a job with his studies would be difficult, but he had no choice. Ji-hoon refused to be a burden on his family.

A soft knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. His mother peeked in, her warm smile easing some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Ji-hoon, come eat. Your father just got home,” she said gently.

He nodded, pushing his worries aside as he followed her to the kitchen. The scent of kimchi stew and freshly cooked rice filled the air, making his stomach growl. His younger siblings, Ji-sung and Ji-yeon, were already seated at the table, excitedly chattering about their day.

Their father sat at the head of the table, his face tired but filled with pride as he looked at Ji-hoon.

“I heard from your mother that you’ve already started preparing for Seoul,” his father said, scooping some rice onto his spoon.

Ji-hoon nodded. “Yes, I’ve been looking into part-time jobs. I want to make sure I have enough money to manage my expenses.”

His mother frowned. “Ji-hoon, the scholarship covers your needs. You should focus on your studies.”

“I know, Mom, but I don’t want to depend on just that. Seoul is expensive, and I don’t want to call home asking for money every time something comes up,” Ji-hoon explained.

His father studied him for a moment before nodding approvingly. “That’s a responsible way to think. But remember, your priority is your education. You worked too hard to get into that university—don’t let a job take away from your studies.”

Ji-hoon felt a lump form in his throat. His father’s quiet support meant everything to him.

“I promise, Dad. I’ll manage both.”

His younger brother, Ji-sung, piped up excitedly. “Hyung, will you live in a big dormitory like in the dramas?”

Ji-hoon chuckled. “Probably. I heard it’s pretty modern.”

Ji-yeon, his little sister, pouted. “What if you forget about us after you go to Seoul?”

He reached over and ruffled her hair. “That’ll never happen. I’ll visit whenever I can.”

His mother sighed, placing a small plate of pickled radish in front of him. “Just make sure to eat properly, okay? No skipping meals just because you’re busy.”

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Ji-hoon smiled. “I will, Mom.”

The rest of dinner was filled with laughter and light-hearted conversation, but deep inside, Ji-hoon knew that this was one of the last meals he would have with his family before his life changed completely.

After dinner, he helped his mother clear the table while his father stepped outside. Ji-hoon joined him, standing quietly as they watched the night sky.

“You’re going to do well,” his father said after a long pause. “I can feel it.”

Ji-hoon turned to him. “I hope so.”

His father exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool night air. “You don’t just hope, son. You work for it. And you’ve already done that.”

Ji-hoon swallowed the emotions rising in his throat. His father had never been a man of many words, but when he did speak, his words carried weight.

“I’ll make you proud,” Ji-hoon said softly.

His father gave him a small, rare smile. “You already have.”

As Ji-hoon lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. A new chapter was beginning.

PART 2: ODD JOBS AND PREPARATIONS

Ji-hoon made a firm decision: before his studies began, he would do whatever it took to earn extra money. He had always been independent-minded, and the idea of relying solely on his scholarship or, worse, having to ask his parents for money, didn’t sit well with him. His parents had already done so much for him, sacrificing their own comfort to give him and his siblings a chance at a better life. Now, it was his turn to stand on his own feet.

And so, he took up a series of odd jobs around his town.

His first job was at the local grocery store, a small family-owned shop that had been a staple in the community for decades. The store owner, Mr. Park, was an elderly man who appreciated Ji-hoon’s hard-working nature. His tasks were simple but physically demanding—stacking shelves, organizing inventory, and helping customers find what they needed. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it paid decently, and Ji-hoon didn’t mind.

He was used to working hard.

Each morning, he would wake up before sunrise, have a quick breakfast, and walk to the store. The moment he arrived, Mr. Park would greet him with a tired but kind smile, and Ji-hoon would get to work, unloading boxes of fresh produce, arranging items on shelves, and sweeping the floors. It was tiring work, but there was something satisfying about it—knowing that he was earning every won with his own effort.

Some days were more exhausting than others. There were times when the store would be flooded with customers, especially on weekends when families came in to stock up on groceries. Ji-hoon would rush from aisle to aisle, helping older customers carry their bags or assisting mothers with restless children. By the end of his shifts, his arms would ache from lifting heavy boxes, but he refused to complain.

After finishing at the store, he would head straight to his next job—tutoring younger students.

Math and English had always been his strongest subjects, and many parents in the neighborhood were eager to find tutors for their children. Ji-hoon took advantage of this opportunity, offering lessons in the evenings. His reputation was reflected by the result he had achieved. He would sit with his students, patiently explaining difficult concepts and guiding them through their homework.

At first, tutoring was just another way to earn money, but over time, Ji-hoon found himself genuinely enjoying it. He loved the challenge of breaking down complex ideas into simpler explanations, and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction when his students finally grasped a difficult concept. It also helped him sharpen his own knowledge, reinforcing his understanding of subjects he would soon be studying at university.

One of his regular students, a 12-year-old girl, struggled with English. She often hesitated when speaking, afraid of making mistakes. Ji-hoon encouraged her, gently correcting her grammar and pronunciation. Over time, she grew more confident, and by the end of their lessons, she would excitedly tell him about her day in English, her previous shyness replaced with enthusiasm.

Ji-hoon knew that his time in town was limited, and soon he wouldn’t be able to tutor anymore. But for now, he was proud of the progress his students were making.

When his tutoring sessions ended for the night, Ji-hoon still wasn’t done.

His third job was as a delivery driver for a local restaurant.

Since he didn’t have a motorbike, he had to rely on his bicycle, which made deliveries more difficult. He would pedal across town, weaving through the streets as he carried bags of steaming hot food to hungry customers. The job was exhausting, especially on humid summer nights when sweat dripped down his back as he rode from one end of town to the other.

But there were moments of joy too. He enjoyed the brief conversations with restaurant workers, the occasional kind customer who tipped him a little extra, and the sense of accomplishment when he finished his last delivery of the night.

By the time Ji-hoon returned home, it was usually well past midnight. His body ached from a long day of work, and his mind was heavy with exhaustion, but there was no room for complaints. He had a goal—to earn enough money to support himself in Seoul without having to rely on anyone.

Despite his hectic schedule, he made sure to spend time with his family whenever he could.

In the evenings, after work, he would sit down for dinner with his parents and siblings. His mother would prepare simple but delicious meals—steamed rice, kimchi, stir-fried vegetables, and sometimes, if they were lucky, grilled fish. The warmth of home, the familiar laughter of his siblings, and the quiet conversations with his father reminded him why he was working so hard.

One evening, as they sat together eating, his father looked at him with quiet pride.

“You’re working too much,” his father said. “Don’t exhaust yourself before university even starts.”

Ji-hoon smiled. “I just want to make sure I have enough saved up. Seoul is expensive.”

His mother sighed, placing more food on his plate. “Just don’t skip meals, okay? No matter how busy you are.”

His father remained quiet for a moment before speaking again. “We’re proud of you, son. But don’t forget—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Ji-hoon nodded, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t relax yet. He still had one more goal.

He wanted to save enough money to buy parting gifts for his family.

It wasn’t much, but it was his way of expressing gratitude. His parents had sacrificed so much for him, and his siblings had always looked up to him with admiration. He didn’t want to leave them empty-handed.

For his mother, he planned to buy a warm shawl for the upcoming winter. She often worked late into the night, sewing clothes to earn extra money, and Ji-hoon wanted her to have something to keep her warm.

For his father, he wanted to buy a sturdy and beautiful pair of work shoes. His father’s legs were blistered from years of walking to the office as he had an old pair that he used from the beginning, and a good pair of shoes would help protect them.

For Ji-sung, his younger brother, he decided on a set of books—something to inspire him to study harder. Ji-sung had always been bright, and Ji-hoon wanted to encourage him to keep pushing forward.

And for Ji-yeon, his little sister, he planned to get a small silver necklace. She had once mentioned how she wished she had something pretty to wear, and Ji-hoon wanted to give her something special before he left.

With each odd job, each exhausting shift, Ji-hoon worked toward these gifts.

Some nights, as he walked home from work, he would take a detour through his neighborhood, soaking in the familiar sights of his town one last time. The small houses with flower-filled gardens, the old park where he had played as a child, the narrow streets where neighbors greeted each other warmly—he knew he would miss all of it.

Seoul was going to be a completely different world.

But he was ready.

With his hard-earned money, his carefully made plans, and the support of his family, Ji-hoon knew that he was taking the first step toward a new future.

A future where he would succeed.

And he was ready.