With the celebrations behind them, life in the town slowly returned to normal. The excitement of Ji-hoon’s achievement, the festivities, and the endless congratulatory visits had all faded into warm memories. Now, a new chapter awaited—one that carried the weight of responsibility.
The process of admission had begun. Ji-hoon had to complete the formalities, register online, and submit the necessary documents to secure his place at the Royal University of South Korea. It was a simple yet crucial step, one that would officially mark the beginning of his journey.
However, their small home did not have a computer or an internet connection, just like most houses in the town. The only place with access to such facilities was the town’s library. That morning, Ji-hoon and his father, Joon-seok, set off together, walking through the familiar streets that Ji-hoon had roamed since childhood.
The library was a modest building, a place Ji-hoon had spent countless afternoons poring over borrowed textbooks and old newspapers. It wasn’t just a building filled with books—it was a sanctuary, a place of knowledge that had shaped him. As they approached, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.
Inside, the library was quiet. The scent of old books filled the air, and the only sound was the occasional rustling of pages. Rows of neatly arranged shelves stood in contrast to the section where a few computers hummed softly, offering a window to the digital world. Unlike the grand libraries in big cities, their town’s library had only four computers, often shared among students who needed them for schoolwork.
Ji-hoon sat down at one of the computers and logged in, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard as he navigated the admission portal. His father stood behind him, watching intently, though much of what was happening on the screen was unfamiliar to him.
The process was meticulous. Ji-hoon entered his details, uploaded required documents, and carefully reviewed every field. Joon-seok remained silent, but his eyes reflected a deep sense of pride as he saw his son take control of his future.
Ji-hoon felt a mix of emotions as he completed each step. Every click brought him closer to his goal, yet a part of him was weighed down by uncertainty. He had come this far, but what lay ahead? The future was unknown, a vast and uncharted territory waiting to be explored.
After what felt like an eternity, Ji-hoon clicked the final button—Submit.
“It’s done,” he said, turning to his father with a small smile.
Joon-seok nodded, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Good. That’s one step closer.”
They left the library, walking back home in comfortable silence. The cool afternoon breeze rustled through the trees, yet there was something different in the air—something Ji-hoon couldn’t quite place.
As they passed the familiar streets, Ji-hoon took in everything—the small shops, the street vendors, the children playing near the schoolyard. He had spent his entire life in this town, surrounded by people who had supported him, celebrated his victories, and stood by him during difficult times. Now, he was about to leave it all behind.
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When they arrived home, Ji-hoon immediately sensed the shift in his father’s demeanor. Joon-seok, who had been cheerful during their trip to the library, now sat at the small wooden table in their living room, lost in thought. His fingers tapped absently against the worn surface, his brows slightly furrowed.
Mi-sook, Ji-hoon’s mother, entered the room carrying a tray of tea. She placed a cup in front of Joon-seok and sat down beside him, noticing his troubled expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently.
Joon-seok sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The tuition fees.”
Ji-hoon’s heart sank. He had been so caught up in the excitement of securing admission that he hadn’t fully considered the financial burden it would place on his family. He knew the university was expensive, far beyond what their modest income could easily afford.
Mi-sook pursed her lips. “We knew this was coming. We’ll figure it out.”
“There’s the tuition, the dormitory fees, the cost of living in Seoul…” Joon-seok trailed off, rubbing his temples. “Even if we use all our savings, it won’t be enough.”
Ji-hoon clenched his fists under the table. He had worked so hard to get here, yet now, an invisible barrier threatened to keep him from stepping into the future he had dreamed of.
Mi-sook turned to her son. “Ji-hoon, do they offer scholarships? Any financial aid?”
Ji-hoon nodded quickly. “Yes. I saw something about scholarships on the website. I’ll apply for every single one I can.”
Joon-seok sighed. “Even with a scholarship, we’ll need money for your living expenses.”
“I can work part-time,” Ji-hoon said immediately. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
A silence settled over the room. Mi-sook reached for her husband’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll find a way. We always do.”
Joon-seok let out a slow breath, nodding. “We will.”
That night, Ji-hoon lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t naive—he knew that even with scholarships and a part-time job, the burden on his family would be immense. His father worked tirelessly at the factory, and his mother took on sewing work to help make ends meet. His younger siblings still had their education ahead of them.
He couldn’t let his dreams become a weight that crushed his family.
The next morning, Ji-hoon woke up with a newfound determination. He spent hours researching scholarships, noting deadlines, and preparing the necessary documents. His teachers at school helped him with recommendation letters, and he practiced writing personal statements that conveyed his passion and determination.
Days turned into weeks. Ji-hoon threw himself into the process, applying for every opportunity available. Some scholarships required essays, others needed proof of financial hardship. He filled out forms late into the night, often skipping meals and sleep just to meet deadlines.
His parents watched him with a mix of pride and concern. Mi-sook often left snacks by his side, urging him to take breaks. Joon-seok, though not always vocal, would pat his son’s back in silent encouragement.
One evening, as Ji-hoon sat at the dining table finalizing yet another application, Joon-seok placed an envelope in front of him.
“I went to the bank today,” his father said, his voice steady. “I took out a small loan.”
Ji-hoon froze. His hands trembled as he picked up the envelope, realizing what it meant.
“Appa… You didn’t have to…”
“I did,” Joon-seok said firmly. “This is your future. We’ll do whatever it takes.”
Tears pricked at Ji-hoon’s eyes, but he held them back. Instead, he bowed deeply, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Appa. I won’t waste this opportunity.”
Joon-seok placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, his grip firm. “Just promise me one thing.”
Ji-hoon looked up. “Anything.”
“Do your best. No matter what hardships come your way, don’t give up.”
Ji-hoon nodded. “I promise.”
The next step had begun, and though the road ahead was uncertain, Ji-hoon knew one thing for sure—he would fight for his dream, no matter the cost.