Ji-hoon’s feet barely touched the ground as he ran, the world around him a blur of color and motion. His heart pounded like a war drum, his breath coming in sharp gasps, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The envelope in his hand felt like it was burning through his skin, the weight of his future pressing against his palm.

  His thoughts raced faster than his legs.

  As he turned onto his street, he spotted his house at the end of the road. A small, modest home with faded paint and a slightly crooked mailbox, but to Ji-hoon, it had always been his sanctuary. And standing at the front door, waiting for him, was his mother.

  Mi-sook must have seen him running because she let out a soft, amused laugh. "You ran all the way home just for this?" she teased, hands on her hips. But her eyes flickered with something deeper—hope.

  Ji-hoon couldn’t catch his breath enough to answer. He staggered to a stop just a few feet away, doubling over as he panted. Before he could respond, the door behind his mother opened, and his father stepped out.

  Joon-seok was still in his work uniform—crisp white shirt, navy tie loosened at the collar, a sign that he had rushed home in the middle of his afternoon shift. His father was a man of few words, but Ji-hoon could see the anxious anticipation in his tight grip on the doorknob.

  "You act like you're the calm one," Mi-sook teased him lightly, "but even you couldn't wait."

  Joon-seok cleared his throat, straightening as if he wasn’t affected. "Let’s just see the result," he said gruffly. But his fingers twitched slightly at his sides.

  Ji-hoon swallowed hard, stepping between them. The envelope was still sealed. His hands trembled as he tore it open.

  His heart felt like it might explode.

  Slowly, carefully, he pulled out the letter inside. His eyes scanned the words.

  99th percentile.

  For a moment, his brain refused to process what he was seeing. The numbers blurred in front of his eyes. He blinked rapidly. Read it again.

  99.

  His breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the letter. His vision swam. This meant that he could get into the top university in South Korea -he knew it as he had calculated how much he must get in his result to get into his dream university.

  This can’t be real.

  A choked sound escaped his throat. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until his mother reached out, placing a steadying hand on his arm.

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  "Ji-hoon?" she asked gently.

  He looked up, meeting her gaze, then his father’s. They were waiting. Holding their breath.

  Ji-hoon clenched the letter. His voice broke as he let out a cry of triumph.

  "I GOT INTO THE TOP UNIVERSITY IN KOREA!"

  The words echoed through the small house, filling every corner, every inch of space with pure, unfiltered joy.

  For a moment, his parents were completely still. Then—

  "You got in," Mi-sook whispered, disbelief and joy mingling in her voice.

  Joon-seok let out a long, unsteady breath. "You did it, Ji-hoon." His voice was thick with pride.

  Mi-sook covered her mouth, her eyes glistening. "All those nights you spent studying, all the sacrifices you made... you earned this, my son."

  Ji-hoon nodded, unable to speak, unable to do anything except let the overwhelming emotion crash over him like a tidal wave. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. Every sleepless night, every missed outing, every ounce of effort—this was the result. And it had been worth it.

  Before he could even catch his breath, the front door burst open. Ji-sung and Ji-yeon came rushing in, their school bags still slung over their shoulders, their faces flushed from running.

  They must have sensed something the moment they saw their mother’s tear-streaked cheeks and their father’s proud stance.

  “What happened?” Ji-sung asked, his eyes darting between them.

  Ji-hoon turned to them, his hands still gripping the letter so tightly it was crumpling. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried through the room.

  "I got in."

  Silence.

  Then—

  "NO WAY!" Ji-sung shouted, his eyes going wide with excitement.

  Ji-yeon let out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down. "Oppa, you did it! You did it!"

  Before he could react, Ji-sung tackled him in a fierce hug, nearly knocking him over. Ji-yeon clung to his other arm, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Mi-sook wiped at her tears with the edge of her apron, her smile never fading. "I knew you could do it," she whispered.

  Joon-seok stepped forward, resting a hand on Ji-hoon’s shoulder. He wasn’t a man of many words, but his grip was strong, steady. "I'm proud of you, son."

  Ji-hoon swallowed past the lump in his throat.

  He had spent years chasing this dream, but now that it was real, it felt almost too big to hold. He had actually done it.

  He had made it.

  The news spread like wildfire.

  Relatives called throughout the evening, offering their congratulations. His aunt - his father's sister, who lived in Busan, sobbed over the phone, saying how proud she was of him. Even his usually distant uncle sent a message, something he had never done before.

  Their neighbors, who had watched Ji-hoon grow up, stopped by with small gifts—homemade rice cakes, a congratulatory card, even a pack of expensive snacks that Ji-hoon had always wanted but never dared to ask for.

  "You’re the pride of this neighborhood, Ji-hoon," one of the elderly neighbors told him, patting his back with a wrinkled hand. "You give the kids here something to look up to."

  Ji-hoon bowed deeply, feeling a fresh wave of gratitude. He had always dreamed of this, but he never imagined how much it would mean—not just to him, but to everyone around him.

  Later that night, after all the phone calls and visitors, he sat outside on the small balcony, staring up at the stars. The excitement hadn’t faded, but there was something else beneath it now. A quiet realization.

  This was only the beginning.

  Getting into the top university was one thing. Succeeding there, making the most of this opportunity—that was the next challenge.

  But for tonight, just for tonight, he allowed himself to bask in the victory.

  Because this was a moment he would never forget.

  And he had earned it.

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