The day of the interview arrived sooner than Ji-hoon had expected. He stood outside the grand building where his future might be decided. The Donghae Cultural Hall was nothing like the modest school buildings he had grown up in. Its towering structures, wide courtyards, and well-dressed students walking confidently across the campus made him feel as if he had stepped into a different world—a world he desperately wanted to be part of.

Taking a deep breath, Ji-hoon adjusted his neatly ironed shirt, ensuring there were no wrinkles. His mother had carefully pressed it the night before, her silent way of showing support. His mother had handed him some money for transportation, even though Ji-hoon knew they could barely afford it. This interview wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a responsibility, a duty he had to fulfill.

He stepped inside, his shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. The waiting room was already filled with other applicants. Some were flipping through thick books, revising at the last moment, while others sat motionless, staring into the distance, lost in thought. The air was thick with tension.

Ji-hoon took a seat in the corner, placing his hands on his lap. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every single person in this room was smart, ambitious, and determined. They had all made it this far, just like he had. What would set him apart?

His fingers tightened into fists.

He had to remind himself why he was here.

This interview wasn’t just for him—it was for his family. For his mother, who had spent years budgeting every penny to make sure they never went to bed hungry. For his father, who worked long hours and came home exhausted but never once complained. For Ji-sung and Ji-yeon, who still had their futures ahead of them, futures that depended on his success.

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

After what felt like an eternity, a staff member walked into the room, holding a clipboard. “Kim Ji-hoon,” they called.

Ji-hoon stood up, straightening his shoulders. His heart pounded against his chest, but he kept his face composed. This was the moment he had been preparing for.

He followed the staff member down a long hallway, past closed doors where other interviews were taking place. The sound of his footsteps echoed slightly in the quiet corridor. His palms were damp, and he quickly wiped them against his trousers before entering the interview room.

Inside, three distinguished professors sat behind a long desk. They were older, well-dressed, and exuded authority. Their sharp eyes studied him as he took his seat.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The room was silent except for the steady ticking of a wall clock.

Ji-hoon met their gazes confidently, suppressing the nervous energy bubbling inside him. He had practiced for this. He had prepared for this. He would not let fear win.

One of the professors, a middle-aged man with glasses, adjusted his papers and gave a small nod. “Kim Ji-hoon, congratulations on your outstanding entrance score. Let’s begin.”

Ji-hoon nodded in return, forcing himself to breathe steadily.

The questions started off simple.

“What are your academic strengths?”

“What subjects do you excel in?”

“What motivated you to apply for this scholarship?”

Ji-hoon answered with clarity, keeping his voice steady despite the pressure. He spoke about his love for learning, his passion for problem-solving, and his dedication to making the most of every opportunity given to him. He explained how he had always pushed himself beyond what was expected, how he had balanced school with part-time jobs to help his family, and how education was his only path to a better future.

The professors nodded, taking notes.

Then, the interview took a turn.

One of the panelists, a woman with sharp eyes and an unreadable expression, leaned forward slightly. “Tell us about your life, Ji-hoon. Where do you come from?”

Ji-hoon hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“I come from a small town where education is valued, but opportunities are scarce,” he began. “Our schools are good, but they lack resources. The teachers do their best, but we often have to make do with outdated textbooks and limited materials.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I was fortunate to have teachers who encouraged me to aim high. They saw potential in me even when I doubted myself. Without them and my family, I wouldn’t be here today.”

The panelists exchanged glances, clearly interested in his background. Ji-hoon could feel their curiosity. He knew what they were looking for—proof that he was not just another applicant but someone who truly deserved this scholarship.

Finally, one of them, a professor with silver hair and an air of wisdom, asked a question that caught Ji-hoon off guard.

“What are your thoughts on money?”

For a moment, Ji-hoon felt his mind go blank.

Of all the questions he had anticipated, this was not one of them.

He swallowed, gathering his thoughts.

“Money…” he began slowly, “is a tool. It can be used to build a better future, but it can also become an obstacle depending on how it’s distributed.”

He took a brief pause before continuing.

“In my life, money has always been something that had to be carefully managed. My parents work hard to provide for us, but I’ve seen firsthand how financial struggles can limit opportunities. That’s why this scholarship means so much to me. It’s not just about paying for education—it’s about breaking free from those limitations.”

The silver-haired professor nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing Ji-hoon’s words.

Ji-hoon continued, his voice steady but sincere.

“Money can open doors. It can provide stability, security, and access to education. But it should never define a person’s worth. I believe that what truly matters is how we use the resources we have, and how we make the most of our opportunities.”

Another pause.

Then, the professor with glasses finally spoke.

“Interesting perspective, Ji-hoon.”

The panelists exchanged another look, but their expressions were unreadable. Ji-hoon sat still, keeping his posture upright despite the pounding of his heart. He had answered honestly. He had spoken from his experience, not from rehearsed lines or memorized speeches.

And now, all he could do was wait.