The atmosphere in the hall grew slightly lighter as Professor Park moved to a more practical topic. He held up a sleek, black student ID card for everyone to see. “This,” he began, “is more than just your identification. It is your key to the campus, your access to facilities, and your financial lifeline.”
Kim sat forward in his seat, his curiosity piqued. The card looked ordinary, but the way Professor Park spoke of it suggested otherwise.
“These cards are multi-functional,” Park continued. “They serve as your ID, grant access to specific areas, and function as a debit card. For scholarship students, your stipends are preloaded weekly onto these cards. Be mindful—what you see is what you get. There will be no additional funds if you overspend.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the group. Seo-joon nudged Kim. “Guess we’ll have to budget carefully,” he whispered with a grin.
Kim returned a weak smile but stayed focused on the professor, who now held up his own card to demonstrate its features. “You’ll use these cards to swipe into lecture halls, libraries, dining facilities, and other approved areas,” Park explained. “But I must warn you—your access is limited. Some buildings and amenities are restricted to students in the Elite Program.”
A girl in the front row raised her hand. “Why are there restrictions? Aren’t we all students of the same university?”
Park hesitated, his expression shifting to one of quiet resignation. “That is a question I have asked myself for years,” he admitted. “The reality is that certain privileges come with wealth. These restrictions are part of the university’s unwritten hierarchy—a hierarchy we are working to challenge, but progress is slow.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Kim clenched his fists under the table, the sting of inequity hitting him harder than he expected. The card in his pocket suddenly felt heavier, like a reminder of the invisible barriers separating him from the privileged students.
Another student, Han Soo-bin, spoke up. “Are there any exceptions? Can we earn access through academic achievements?”
Park shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. The rules are rigid, and exceptions are rare. My advice is to focus on excelling within the boundaries set for you. Use the resources available to you wisely, and avoid unnecessary conflicts with those who hold more power here.”
The professor’s words were practical but bitter. Kim could see the resignation in his eyes—a man who had fought against the system for years but had little to show for it.
As Park moved on to the logistics of using the card, explaining how to check balances and report issues, Kim found his mind wandering. This small piece of plastic symbolized both opportunity and limitation. It gave him access to an elite education but also served as a constant reminder of his status as an outsider.
When Park concluded the session, he paused, looking directly at the group. “Your cards represent more than just access—they are a testament to your place here. You earned this through hard work and determination. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong.”
Kim felt a flicker of resolve ignite in his chest. He slipped the card into his pocket as the students began to leave, Seo-joon at his side. “Well, that was a reality check,” Seo-joon muttered as they stepped into the bright afternoon sun.
Kim nodded silently, his thoughts swirling. The card might have limitations, but it was also a tool—a tool he intended to use wisely. The road ahead was daunting, but Kim knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t let the system break him.