Sunday I picked up an extra shift at the convenience store.
Manager Kim was surprised when I called asking if anyone needed coverage. "You already work four nights a week, Ji-Mang. Don't you need to rest?"
"I need the money more than I need rest."
There was a pause. "Is everything okay?"
"Family stuff. I just need more hours if you have them."
"Okay. Soo-Jin was supposed to work Sunday afternoon but called in sick. It's yours if you want it. 2 to 10."
"I'll take it."
That was eight extra hours. About 60,000 won after taxes. It wasn't enough, but it was something.
I spent Sunday afternoon restocking shelves and ringing up customers while running calculations in my head. If I picked up two extra shifts a week at the convenience store, that was 120,000 won. If I could get weekend shifts at the library instead of just weekday afternoons, that was another 80,000.
Still not enough to make 500,000 for my family plus cover my own expenses.
I'd have to cut deeper.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. It had been buzzing on and off all day—Bok-Jin trying to reach me. I'd read the messages once, then stopped.
Bok-Jin: Please talk to me.
Bok-Jin: I don't understand what happened. What did I do wrong?
Bok-Jin: I meant what I said on the rooftop. I love you. That hasn't changed.
Bok-Jin: At least let me know you're okay.
I wasn't okay. But telling him that would lead to questions I couldn't answer without breaking down completely.
By the time my shift ended at 10 PM, my feet ached and I'd eaten nothing but a triangle kimbap I'd grabbed during my break. I walked home in a daze, let myself into the apartment, and found Yoo-Na and Min-Ji waiting up.
"We need to talk," Min-Ji said.
"I'm exhausted. Can it wait?"
"No." Yoo-Na patted the couch between them. "Sit."
I was too tired to argue. I collapsed onto the couch, and they flanked me like an intervention committee.
"You worked today," Min-Ji said. "On Sunday. When you weren't scheduled."
"I picked up an extra shift."
"Why?"
"I need the money."
"For what?" Yoo-Na asked gently. "What happened?"
I could lie. Could make up something about wanting to save more for LEET prep or needing to buy new textbooks. But I was so tired of lying, of pretending everything was fine.
"My dad lost his job," I said. "They laid him off Thursday. My mom needs me to send 500,000 won a month instead of 100,000 until he finds work again. Which might be never, given his age and the job market."
Both of them went quiet.
"That's..." Min-Ji trailed off. "That's a lot of money."
"I know. I'm figuring it out. More shifts, fewer expenses. I'll make it work."
"How?" Yoo-Na asked. "You're already working 25 hours a week plus full-time classes. Where are you going to find time for more shifts?"
"I'll drop a class. Go part-time."
"You'll lose your scholarship if you're not full-time."
"Then I'll figure out tuition some other way. I don't have a choice, Yoo-Na. My family needs me."
"Does Bok-Jin know?" Min-Ji asked.
"No. And he's not going to."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not going to be the girlfriend who needs her rich boyfriend to solve her problems!" The words came out sharper than I intended. "I'm not going to prove everyone right about why poor girls date wealthy guys. I'm not going to become someone's charity project."
"He wouldn't see it that way," Yoo-Na said softly.
"Maybe not. But I would. And I'd know, every single day, that I couldn't handle my own life. That I needed rescue." I stood up, suddenly desperate to be alone. "I'm going to bed. I have class in the morning."
"Ji-Mang—"
"Please. I can't talk about this anymore."
I locked myself in my room before they could argue, and cried into my pillow until I ran out of tears.
Monday I woke up at 5:30 for running club and seriously considered not going.
My body ached from yesterday's long shift. I'd barely slept. The idea of running five kilometers and pretending everything was fine felt impossible.
But I was the club president. People were counting on me. And if I didn't show up, Min-Ji would have to cover, and she'd worry even more.
So I dragged myself out of bed, put on my running clothes, and made it to campus by 5:55.
Bok-Jin was already there.
My heart clenched. He looked tired too—shadows under his eyes, hair slightly messier than usual. He saw me immediately, and hope flashed across his face before he seemed to remember we'd broken up.
I looked away before he could approach and started doing warm-ups with unusual focus.
"Okay everyone!" Min-Ji called out, taking the lead since I clearly wasn't capable. "Standard route today. Let's stretch out."
I felt Bok-Jin's eyes on me throughout warm-ups, but I didn't acknowledge him. Couldn't acknowledge him. If I looked at him, if I saw the hurt on his face, I might crumble.
We started running, and I immediately pushed my pace harder than usual. Physical pain was easier to deal with than emotional pain. If my legs burned and my lungs screamed, I didn't have to think about anything else.
I was vaguely aware of Min-Ji trying to keep pace with me, calling out "Ji-Mang, slow down!" but I didn't listen. I just ran faster, harder, until everything else faded away.
By the time we circled back to the meeting point, I was gasping, on the edge of nausea. I'd pushed too hard on too little sleep and too little food, and my body was making me pay for it.
I bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
"What the hell was that?" Min-Ji demanded, appearing at my side. "You ran like you were being chased."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're shaking."
"I just pushed too hard. It happens."
"It doesn't just happen. You know better." She lowered her voice. "Is this about Bok-Jin? Because he looks as miserable as you do, and everyone's starting to notice."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, you're going to have to talk about something, because this—" she gestured at me "—isn't sustainable."
"I said I'm fine."
I straightened up and immediately regretted it. The world tilted, and I stumbled.
Min-Ji caught my arm. "Okay, that's it. You're not fine. When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday. Lunch." Or was it dinner? I couldn't remember.
"It's Monday morning. You haven't eaten in over twelve hours?"
"I've been busy."
"You've been destroying yourself." She steered me toward a bench. "Sit. I'm getting you food."
"I don't need—"
"Sit down, Ji-Mang. That's not a request."
I sat, too dizzy to argue. The other club members were dispersing, but I could feel a few people watching us with concern. Including Bok-Jin, who was standing about ten meters away, clearly wanting to approach but unsure if he should.
Min-Ji disappeared toward the nearest GS25, leaving me alone on the bench with my spinning head and racing heart.
Bok-Jin took a step toward me.
"Don't," I said without looking at him. "Please don't."
He stopped. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You're clearly not fine. You just ran like you were trying to kill yourself."
"I was just pushing my limits. It's called exercise."
"It's called self-destruction." He moved closer despite my protest. "Ji-Mang, please. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me how to fix this."
"You can't fix this."
"Then tell me how to help."
"I don't need help." The words came out harsher than I intended. "I don't need you or your help or anything else. I just need you to leave me alone."
I watched him flinch like I'd hit him.
"Is that really what you want?" he asked quietly.
Yes. No. I don't know.
"Yes."
He stood there for another moment, and I could feel him trying to decide whether to push or respect my wishes. Finally, he nodded once and walked away.
I watched him go and hated myself for the relief I felt mixed with the heartbreak.
Min-Ji returned with a banana milk and a rice ball. "Eat. Now."
I ate mechanically while she watched, and tried not to think about the fact that this 3,000 won I was spending on emergency food was 3,000 won I couldn't send home to my family.
The week became a blur of classes, work, and sleep deprivation.
Monday: Class from 9-3, library shift 3-7, convenience store 8-12. Staggered home at 12:30, fell into bed.
Tuesday: Class 9-12, tried to study but kept falling asleep in the library. Evening convenience store shift 6-10. Bok-Jin texted three times. I didn't respond.
Wednesday: Running club at 6 AM where I avoided Bok-Jin again, though I ran at a more reasonable pace after Min-Ji's lecture. Class 9-3. Library shift 3-7. Came home, tried to do LEET prep, gave up after an hour when none of the words made sense.
Thursday: Picked up an extra morning shift at the convenience store 6-10 AM, then class 11-3. Skipped lunch to save money. Library shift 3-7. Nearly fell asleep at the circulation desk and Ji-Won had to wake me up. She didn't say anything, but the concern in her eyes was obvious.
By Friday, I was running on approximately twelve hours of sleep for the week and had lost four pounds I couldn't afford to lose. My clothes hung looser, my skin looked gray, and I'd started getting headaches that wouldn't go away.
But I'd calculated my earnings, and if I kept up this schedule, I could send 500,000 to my family and still cover most of my expenses. I'd have to dip into my savings for food, and LEET prep was completely off the table, but I could survive.
That's what mattered. Survival.
Friday evening I was midway through my convenience store shift when he walked in.
Bok-Jin.
I froze at the register, my hand halfway to scanning a customer's items. He saw me, and something complicated crossed his face—relief and worry and hurt all mixed together.
I finished the transaction on autopilot and watched as he approached the counter.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi."
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been busy."
"Ji-Mang—"
"Can we not do this here? I'm working."
"Then when? Because you won't answer my calls or texts, you won't talk to me at running club, and I'm starting to think you're just going to avoid me forever."
"Maybe that's for the best."
"How is that for the best? We were happy. We were—" He stopped, seeming to notice something. "Have you lost weight?"
"I don't know. I haven't been paying attention."
"When did you last eat a real meal?"
"I eat."
"That's not what I asked."
A customer appeared behind him with an armful of snacks, and I used the interruption to avoid answering. "Excuse me, I have customers."
Bok-Jin stepped aside but didn't leave. He browsed the aisles while I worked, clearly waiting for a moment when we could talk.
I considered hiding in the back room until he left, but that would just be delaying the inevitable.
When there was finally a lull, he approached again.
"Please," he said. "Just tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how to fix this."
"You didn't do anything wrong. That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about? Because one day we're together and happy, and the next you're ending things and won't tell me why."
I wanted to tell him. Wanted to explain about my father's job and my family's needs and the impossible math I was trying to make work. But telling him meant opening myself up to help I couldn't accept, pity I didn't want, and a dependence that would destroy whatever dignity I had left.
"It's about reality," I said. "About the fact that we want different things and come from different worlds and it was never going to work."
"That's not true."
"It is true. You just don't want to see it."
"No, you don't want to see that we can figure it out together if you'd just let me in."
"There's nothing to figure out. It's over. Please accept that."
He looked at me with such raw hurt that I had to look away.
"Fine," he said quietly. "If that's really what you want, I'll stop trying. But Ji-Mang—" He waited until I looked at him again. "Whatever you're dealing with, whatever's making you pull away, you don't have to handle it alone. Even if you don't want me as your boyfriend, I'm still here. As a friend. As someone who cares about you."
I felt tears burning behind my eyes. "I have to get back to work."
He nodded once and left without buying anything.
I stood there at the empty register and tried not to break down completely.
Saturday morning my phone rang at 7 AM. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer, but something made me pick up.
"Ms. Han Ji-Mang?" A woman's voice, professional.
"Yes?"
"This is Professor Jung Min-Hee. Professor Kwon gave me your contact information for the LEET study group."
Oh. The pro bono tutoring program I'd completely forgotten about in the chaos of the past week.
"Yes, hello, Professor Jung. Thank you for calling."
"I wanted to schedule an initial meeting to assess your needs and discuss the program structure. Would you be available tomorrow afternoon?"
Tomorrow. Sunday. When I'd already picked up an extra convenience store shift because I needed every won I could get.
"I..." I started, then stopped. "I'm sorry, Professor Jung. I don't think I can participate in the program right now. My schedule has become very complicated."
"I understand. The program is intensive—about 15 hours per week of study group sessions plus independent work. Is it a timing issue or something else?"
Timing. Money. Mental capacity. All of it.
"Everything, honestly. I'm dealing with some family circumstances that require me to work more hours. I don't have time for LEET prep right now."
There was a pause. "Ms. Han, Professor Kwon spoke very highly of you. She said you're one of the most dedicated students she's had in years. Are you saying you're postponing law school applications?"
The words made it real. Made it final.
"Yes. I'm postponing. I don't know for how long. Just... until things stabilize."
"I see. Well, the offer stands if your circumstances change. I hope they do."
"Thank you."
After I hung up, I sat on my bed and stared at the wall.
I'd just turned down the exact help I needed. Free, merit-based tutoring that would have given me a real shot at top law schools.
But fifteen hours a week was fifteen hours I could be working. Fifteen hours was 120,000 won I needed to send home to my family.
Law school could wait. Had to wait.
My family couldn't.
I got dressed for my convenience store shift and tried not to think about all the futures I was sacrificing to survive the present.