Kim Ji-hoon had always known that the day of the Suneung, South Korea’s national university entrance exam, would come. But as the morning of the fateful day finally arrived, he found himself staring at the pale glow of dawn outside his window, his heart pounding in anticipation. It felt surreal—three years of grueling preparation, countless sleepless nights, and endless pages of notes had all led to this. There was no more time to revise, no margin for error. Today was everything.

  The early rays of the sun crept into Ji-hoon’s modest bedroom, casting long shadows over the piles of books and crumpled notes on his desk. The faint aroma of rice and soup wafted through the air, signaling that his mother, Lee Mi-sook, was already awake, preparing breakfast. Ji-hoon took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. This was no ordinary day; it was the culmination of his entire high school journey, and he was determined to seize it.

  Sliding out of bed, he stretched, his body aching from the previous night’s tension. He had stayed up until 2 a.m., going over calculus problems one last time, as if the formulas would slip from his grasp if he didn’t hammer them into his mind. The fatigue weighed heavily on him, but there was no time to rest. He glanced at his desk one final time before leaving his room, noting the open textbook on trigonometry and the nearly empty cup of herbal tea his mother had brought him the night before.

  In the kitchen, Mi-sook greeted him with a warm smile, though the worry etched into her face was unmistakable. She had barely slept herself, fretting over her eldest son’s big day. “Good morning, Ji-hoon,” she said softly, setting down a steaming bowl of doenjang-guk, the soybean paste soup she always made on special occasions. “Eat well. You’ll need your strength.”

  Ji-hoon nodded, sitting down at the small dining table. The meal was simple but comforting: rice, soup, kimchi, and a small plate of grilled mackerel. His younger siblings, Ji-sung and Ji-yeon, were still asleep, their playful energy missing from the usual morning chaos. The quietness of the house only amplified the gravity of the day.

  “Don’t rush,” Mi-sook added, pouring him a cup of barley tea. “You still have time before you need to leave.”

  Ji-hoon took a bite of the mackerel, the savory flavor grounding him for a moment. His mother’s cooking had always been his comfort, a reminder that no matter how challenging things became, his family would always be his foundation. He looked up at her and managed a small smile. “Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

  Mi-sook’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she quickly turned away, busying herself with wiping the already-clean counter. “Just do your best, Ji-hoon. That’s all we ask.”

  After breakfast, Ji-hoon returned to his room to prepare for the day. His school uniform, freshly ironed by his mother the night before, hung neatly on the closet door. He changed quickly, the crisp fabric a stark contrast to the casual clothes he had worn during his late-night study sessions. His school badge gleamed on his blazer, a reminder of his identity and the weight of expectations he carried—not just his own, but those of his family, his teachers, and his peers.

  As he packed his bag, Ji-hoon double-checked his exam essentials: pens, pencils, an eraser, his ID card, and the exam registration slip. He slipped them into a clear plastic case, his hands steady despite the growing tension in his chest. He couldn’t afford to forget anything. The Suneung was unforgiving; a single mistake could mean the difference between success and failure.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Before leaving, Ji-hoon’s father, Kim Joon-seok, called him into the living room. Joon-seok was a man of few words, his quiet demeanor masking a deep well of love and pride for his family. He handed Ji-hoon a neatly folded envelope containing money for travel expenses and a small talisman. “For good luck,” his father said simply, placing a firm hand on Ji-hoon’s shoulder. “You’ve worked hard. Trust yourself.”

  Ji-hoon swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding. “I will, Dad. Thank you.”

  Mi-sook stood by the door, her hands clasped tightly together. “Be careful, Ji-hoon. Take your time. And remember, no matter what happens, we’re proud of you.”

  Ji-hoon smiled faintly, the weight of their words settling on his shoulders. “I’ll do my best,” he promised, bowing deeply before stepping outside.

  The crisp November air bit at his cheeks as he made his way to the train station. Ji-hoon had decided to travel to the exam center with his friends rather than his parents, not wanting to burden them with the long journey to Seoul. The 90-minute train ride felt like a rite of passage, a shared experience with the other students who were also making their way to various exam centers across the city.

  At the station, Ji-hoon met his two closest friends, Min-jae and Soo-bin. The three of them had been inseparable since middle school, their bond forged through countless group projects, late-night study sessions, and shared dreams of success.

  “You ready?” Min-jae asked, his voice betraying his own nerves.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Ji-hoon replied, forcing a smile.

  The train ride was a mix of quiet tension and frantic last-minute revisions. Ji-hoon, ever the perfectionist, flipped through his study guide, his eyes scanning key concepts and formulas. Min-jae and Soo-bin did the same, though their energy was more frenetic, their whispered exchanges filled with doubts and reassurances.

  The train’s rhythm was both soothing and unnerving, each stop bringing them closer to their destination. Ji-hoon occasionally glanced at his reflection in the window, the faint outline of his face blending with the cityscape rushing past. He could see the determination in his own eyes, a steely resolve that had carried him through years of hard work.

  The exam center, Hanyang Institute of Advanced Learning, was an imposing building that loomed over the bustling streets of Seoul. As Ji-hoon and his friends stepped off the train and made their way through the crowded station, the reality of the day hit him like a wave. The streets were filled with students and parents, the air buzzing with nervous energy. Volunteers in bright vests handed out water bottles and snacks, their cheerful smiles a stark contrast to the somber expressions of the test-takers.

  Ji-hoon took a deep breath, his grip tightening on the straps of his backpack. He had prepared for this moment for years. There was no turning back now.

  As they entered the exam center, the atmosphere shifted. The large hall was filled with rows of desks, each one meticulously labeled with a student’s name and registration number. Ji-hoon found his seat and sat down, the weight of the moment settling over him. He glanced around, taking in the faces of the other students—some pale with fear, others calm and collected.

  The proctor’s voice broke through the tense silence, instructing them to place their belongings under their desks and prepare their ID cards and exam slips. Ji-hoon followed the instructions methodically, his hands steady despite the pounding of his heart.

  When the first test booklet was placed on his desk, Ji-hoon took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply. He could feel the weight of his family’s hopes, the sacrifices they had made for him, and the countless hours he had poured into his studies. He opened his eyes, his focus sharpening as he picked up his pen.

  This was it. The final stretch.

  and get exclusive access to novels before they hit the public pages! — absolutely free!

  FictionFever