PART 1: A GIFT OF GRATITUDE
A month had passed since Ji-hoon began working tirelessly at his odd jobs. The days had blurred together in a cycle of early mornings and late nights, but every bit of exhaustion had been worth it. He had earned his own money—not borrowed, not given, but earned through sheer determination and effort.
And now, it was time to give back.
Ji-hoon had spent the past few days thinking deeply about what to buy for his family. He wanted to show them how much their support meant to him, how grateful he was for their sacrifices. His parents had always placed their children’s needs above their own, and his younger siblings had never complained, even when things were difficult.
With the money he had saved, he carefully selected gifts for each member of his family.
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For his mother, Lee Mi-sook, he bought a beautifully embroidered shawl—soft, warm, and elegant. He had seen it at the local market and immediately thought of her. His mother often worked late into the night, sewing clothes under the dim light of their small home. The winters were always harsh, and Ji-hoon had seen her wrap herself in thin blankets while working.
"This will keep her warm," he thought as he ran his fingers over the intricate embroidery. The fabric felt smooth, and he imagined how it would drape over her shoulders, bringing her a small measure of comfort during the long, cold nights.
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For his father, Kim Joon-seok, he chose a sturdy pair of shoes.
His father had been wearing the same old, worn-out pair for years. Even when the soles had begun to wear thin and the leather had cracked, he had never once complained or replaced them. Ji-hoon knew why—his father always prioritized the family’s needs over his own.
Ji-hoon walked into the small shoe store in town, carefully inspecting different pairs until he found the perfect one—strong, durable, and comfortable. As he handed over the money, he could already imagine his father’s expression when he received them.
"Maybe he’ll finally stop walking around in those old, patched-up shoes," Ji-hoon thought, smiling to himself.
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For his younger brother, Ji-sung, he picked out a book.
Ji-sung loved reading, just as Ji-hoon had at his age. Whenever Ji-hoon found him curled up in a corner with a book, he couldn’t help but feel proud. His younger brother had the same hunger for knowledge, the same determination to carve a better future.
The book Ji-hoon chose was a collection of inspiring stories about great leaders—people who had overcome immense struggles and achieved greatness. He hoped it would motivate Ji-sung, just as books had once inspired him.
"Dream big, little brother," Ji-hoon thought as he placed the book inside a carefully wrapped package.
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For his little sister, Ji-yeon, he bought a delicate silver necklace.
Ji-hoon had never forgotten the day she had looked longingly at a jewelry shop’s window display, sighing wistfully. At that moment, he had promised himself that one day, he would buy her something special.
The necklace was simple yet elegant, with a small heart-shaped pendant. When he saw it, he immediately knew it was the perfect gift. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was something she could cherish—a small token of his love before he left for Seoul.
"Now, she’ll have something to remind her of me," he thought as he placed the necklace in a small velvet box.
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That evening, as the sun set and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, Ji-hoon gathered his family in the small living room. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the familiar scents of home—his mother’s cooking, the faint fragrance of fresh laundry, and the comforting presence of the people he loved most.
He stood before them, his heart pounding slightly. This wasn’t just about giving gifts—it was about showing his gratitude, about letting them know how much he appreciated everything they had done for him.
Taking a deep breath, he handed the gifts one by one.
His mother was the first to receive hers. As she unwrapped the shawl, her hands trembled slightly. The moment she saw it, her eyes misted over.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her fingers over the soft fabric. She held it close to her chest, as if absorbing the warmth of Ji-hoon’s love through the material.
Ji-hoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “I wanted you to have something warm for winter. You always stay up late, and I thought… this might help.”
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with emotion. “You thought of this… for me?”
He nodded, smiling softly. “Of course, Eomma.”
She said nothing more—she didn’t need to. Instead, she reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him as if she never wanted to let go.
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His father was next.
Ji-hoon handed him the shoebox, and his father opened it carefully. For a long moment, he simply stared at the new shoes.
His fingers traced over the sturdy leather, and Ji-hoon saw something flicker in his father’s expression—something deep, unspoken.
“You needed new ones,” Ji-hoon said quietly. “I thought these would be good for work.”
His father nodded, swallowing hard. He didn’t say much—he never did—but Ji-hoon saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands tightened around the box as if trying to keep his emotions in check.
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Finally, after a long pause, his father spoke.
“They’re perfect,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “Thank you, son.”
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Ji-sung’s reaction was immediate.
As soon as he unwrapped the book, his eyes lit up. “Hyung, this is amazing!” he exclaimed, flipping through the pages excitedly. “I’ve been wanting to read something like this!”
Ji-hoon chuckled. “I know. I thought it might help inspire you.”
Ji-sung grinned. “It will! I’ll read it every day.”
Ji-hoon ruffled his younger brother’s hair, feeling a deep sense of warmth in his chest. This was why he worked so hard.
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Finally, he turned to Ji-yeon.
She took the small box hesitantly, her fingers delicate as she lifted the lid. The moment she saw the necklace, her eyes widened.
“You… got this for me?” she whispered, staring at the tiny silver pendant.
Ji-hoon smiled. “I remember you looking at something like this before. I wanted you to have it.”
Ji-yeon let out a small gasp before throwing her arms around her older brother, hugging him tightly.
“I love it,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Thank you, oppa.”
Ji-hoon gently patted her head. “I’m glad you do.”
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After the gifts were given, Ji-hoon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of money.
He handed it to his mother. “This is for you,” he said.
His mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ji-hoon, you need this money for Seoul.”
“I know,” he replied. “But I have some saved for myself. This… this is something I wanted to give you. Even if it’s not much.”
She shook her head, her hands trembling as she held the money. “You’ve grown up so much,” she whispered, blinking back tears.
Ji-hoon felt his own throat tighten, but he forced himself to smile. “I just wanted to do something for my family.”
That night, they sat together longer than usual, reminiscing about old memories, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s presence.
They all knew things were about to change.
But in that moment, surrounded by warmth, love, and the quiet knowledge that their bond would never break, Ji-hoon felt truly at peace.
Seoul awaited.
But for tonight, he was home.
PART 2: THE LAST WEEK AND FAREWELL PREPARATIONS
As the day of Ji-hoon’s departure neared, a quiet sadness settled over the household. The usual warmth and liveliness of their home felt different, as if an invisible weight hung in the air. The sounds of his mother cooking in the kitchen, the usual playful arguments between Ji-sung and Ji-yeon, and even the gentle hum of his father’s presence—everything felt heavier, tinged with the knowledge that soon, things would change.
Ji-hoon’s last week at home was filled with a bittersweet mix of excitement and melancholy. He was finally stepping into the future he had worked so hard for, but it came at the cost of leaving behind the life he had always known.
Ji-hoon began packing his belongings, carefully folding his clothes and arranging them neatly in his suitcase. His small room, which had always been cluttered with books, notes, and memories of his years growing up, felt emptier with each item he placed inside his bag. His mother hovered nearby, watching him with a mix of pride and sorrow. Every now and then, she would pick up an item and refold it, as if trying to hold onto something, anything, before he left.
"You don’t need to take so many clothes, Ji-hoon," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles in a shirt before placing it back in his bag. "You’ll buy new ones in Seoul, right?"
Ji-hoon smiled faintly. "Maybe, but I like these. They remind me of home."
His mother’s hands lingered on the fabric, and she nodded, though her eyes were distant.
His father, ever the practical man, took it upon himself to ensure Ji-hoon had everything he needed. Together, they sat at the table, checking over his important documents—his scholarship papers, university acceptance letter, and identification—making sure nothing was missing.
"You should keep these in a separate folder," his father advised, slipping the documents into a protective cover. "Losing them would be troublesome."
Ji-hoon could sense the emotions his father was holding back. He had always been the silent pillar of the family, a man who expressed love through actions rather than words. But Ji-hoon knew that this departure was just as hard for him as it was for his mother.
Meanwhile, his younger siblings struggled to keep their emotions in check. Ji-sung, who usually bombarded him with endless questions about school and life, was quieter than usual, sneaking glances at his packed bags with a somber expression. Ji-yeon, on the other hand, clung to him more than ever, sitting beside him whenever she could, her small hands wrapped around his arm as if trying to make the most of their remaining time together.
"You’ll call, right?" she asked one evening, her voice small.
"Of course," Ji-hoon assured her, ruffling her hair. "Every week. Maybe even every day if you want."
Ji-yeon nodded, but her grip on his arm didn’t loosen.
The night before his departure, Ji-hoon went for a walk around the neighborhood, taking in the familiar sights one last time. The streets where he had played as a child, the small convenience store where he had bought snacks after school, the park where he had spent countless evenings talking with Min-jae—all of it felt different now.
The lamplights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement as he walked past the tiny restaurant where his family had sometimes gone for special occasions. The old couple who owned the shop waved at him, unaware that this might be the last time he saw them for a long while.
As he passed Min-jae’s house, he hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone.
"Hey," Min-jae’s voice came through, slightly drowsy. "What’s up?"
"Come outside," Ji-hoon said, glancing at the window where his best friend’s room was. "Let’s take one last walk."
A few minutes later, Min-jae appeared, shoving his hands into his pockets. They didn’t say much as they walked through the quiet streets, the chill of the night settling between them.
"Seoul’s gonna be different," Min-jae finally said. "You sure you’re ready?"
Ji-hoon exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. "I don’t know. But I have to be."
"You’ll do fine," Min-jae said, bumping his shoulder against Ji-hoon’s. "You always do."
They walked in silence for a little longer before finally parting ways. As Ji-hoon turned back toward home, he took a deep breath, letting the memories settle within him. This was his home, and no matter where life took him, a part of him would always belong here.
The morning of his departure arrived too soon.
The train station was bustling with people, the air filled with the sounds of announcements, rolling suitcases, and hurried footsteps. Ji-hoon stood with his family on the platform, gripping the handle of his suitcase tightly. His mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she adjusted his coat, fussing over him one last time.
"Make sure to eat properly," she said, her voice slightly wobbly. "Don’t skip meals just because you’re busy studying."
"I won’t, Mom," Ji-hoon promised.
His father, standing beside her, didn’t say much. Instead, he patted Ji-hoon on the back, a firm and reassuring gesture. "Work hard. Be strong," he said simply, but Ji-hoon could hear the weight of emotion in those words.
Ji-sung and Ji-yeon stood close, their faces reflecting a mix of sadness and admiration.
"Don’t forget about us when you become famous," Ji-sung joked weakly.
Ji-hoon chuckled. "Never."
Ji-yeon sniffled. "I’m going to miss you."
Ji-hoon crouched down and pulled her into a hug. "I’ll miss you too, but I’ll visit as often as I can. And I’ll call all the time."
The announcement for his train echoed through the station. Ji-hoon took a deep breath, feeling the finality of the moment settle over him.
"Call me when you reach, okay?" his mother said, wiping her eyes.
"I will," Ji-hoon assured her.
As the train doors opened, Ji-hoon stepped inside, turning back one last time to take in the sight of his family standing together. His mother’s trembling smile, his father’s quiet strength, his siblings’ hopeful expressions—all of it burned into his memory.
The train lurched forward, and as it picked up speed, Ji-hoon watched his family grow smaller in the distance. He clenched his fists, determination setting in.
This wasn’t just his journey—it was their dream too. And he was going to make sure it came true.