After Watching a movie

Ryu Ji-ho raised his glass high, trying to push his thoughts aside as he clinked it against his friends'. It had been so long since alcohol had touched his lips. But tonight was different. It wasn't just about the drink itself; it was about the company—the old friends, childhood buddies—that made the soju taste better than usual. There was warmth in their laughter and conversations, something that somehow made Ji-ho feel a little more alive.

But after a few sips, the world around him started to spin. Ji-ho leaned his head back, trying to steady himself, but the dizziness wouldn't go away. Perhaps he had drunk more than he should have.

"Do you want to crash at my place?" Kim Joon-woo asked, his eyes clouded with concern.

Ji-ho shook his head slowly. "No, I'm fine."

"I've got a spare room upstairs. We can rest there. The adults won't even notice."

Joon-woo, with all his ease and privilege, lived in a large two-story house in the elite Guwoldong neighborhood. His family was wealthy, and it showed in every corner of their home. It wasn't uncommon for Joon-woo to cover all the bills when they hung out, just like tonight. His generous nature made him easy to like, though sometimes it made Ji-ho feel a bit uneasy.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," Ji-ho said with a faint smile, trying to ease his friend's worry before deciding to walk home alone.

When he finally reached his house, the smell of alcohol clung to him, impossible to hide. His mother, Shin Young-sook, immediately caught the scent as soon as he walked through the door.

"Who have you been hanging out with, coming home like this, drunk?" Her voice was cold, her gaze sharp.

Ji-ho stood still for a moment, realizing there was no point in lying. "I only had a little bit to drink with some friends, Mom. Just stressed from studying for exams. I'm sorry."

His mother gave a soft scoff.

"Stressed? You think you know what stress is? You're not even in college yet! And who told you it's okay for underage kids to drink?"

In truth, Young-sook knew all too well that Ji-ho had been working hard these past two weeks. Every morning he woke up early to exercise, and at night he was buried in his books, preparing for the upcoming exams. That's why, despite her anger, she held back from punishing him more harshly.

"I'll be checking your exam results, you can count on that," she finally said, finishing her lecture with a note of warning.

Ji-ho could only nod weakly, realizing he had escaped a more severe punishment tonight. But his mother's words hung heavily over him, a reminder of what awaited if he didn't live up to her expectations.

Ryu Jiho woke up, his eyes heavy with sleep. He groggily rubbed them, struggling to fully open them, before finally dragging himself out from under the blanket. 

His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. It wasn't exactly what you'd expect from a high school student. A hangover? Really? 

"Huh..."

As memories of the previous night trickled in, he couldn't help but cringe. The way he and his friends acted—it was reckless, irresponsible even. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't been thrown out of the house. 

Reluctantly, he fought the urge to collapse back into bed. Instead, he forced himself to tidy up the sheets, folding them neatly before stashing them away in the closet. 

"Gotta make sure this isn't just another half-hearted effort," he muttered under his breath, a promise to himself.

Just a few days ago, he had dropped by the local newspaper agency to ask the owner for a job as a paperboy. He'd promised to start working as soon as his midterm exams were over.

And today was his first day. At the agency, he had received the papers for his first delivery route—just over 100 copies. 

"Don't have a bike, do ya? It's gonna be tough running the whole way," the agency owner remarked, clearly skeptical.

"I thought I'd learn the route first," Ryu Jiho replied, trying to sound convincing.

"Don't give up after a couple of days," the owner added a note of doubt in his voice.

"I'll keep at it, at least until before my senior year starts," Ryu Jiho said with a respectful bow before heading out the door.

A loud sputter of a small motorbike rang through the air as the previous delivery worker revved his 88cc engine. The guy was constantly grumbling about how annoying the job was, but Jiho pretended not to hear any of it.

Brrrmm!

Without a word, the former worker sped off, his grumbling drowned out by the roar of the engine. Ryu Jiho had no choice but to chase after him, legs pumping furiously as he tried to keep up. His breathing grew ragged as he ran, but he didn't slow down. He needed to stay close, to memorize every turn, every house on the route. As much as the guy complained, Ryu Jiho needed every bit of information he could get from him. 

"Hah... hah..." 

With a lot of effort, Jiho kept up, all while mentally mapping the area. He carefully checked addresses and matched them with the names of the residents, committing every detail to memory.

Finally, his first day of deliveries came to an end, and his body felt like it had been through the wringer. When he got home, his mother, Sim Yeongsuk, greeted him with concern written all over her face.

"You're exercising to stay healthy, not to wear yourself out, right?"

"The exams are over now, so I just feel relieved. Maybe I overdid it a little."

"At your age, you need plenty of sleep if you want to grow taller. Go get more rest."

"It's fine, Mom."

For three days, Ryu Jiho shadowed the former delivery guy, learning the ins and outs of the route.

"He said he'd help for a week…" Jiho muttered to himself.

But that promise was quickly broken. After just three days, the former worker stopped showing up.

"No sense of loyalty at all," Jiho grumbled as he grabbed a copy of the newspaper. One of the job's perks was getting to keep an issue every day.

He read it meticulously during his morning study sessions. Every time he read through the articles, memories—random thoughts—would surface in his mind. He would jot them down in a memo, and when he got home, he would transfer them into his journal. 

He'd even clip articles and create a special folder for columns and economic reports. It wasn't just a habit—it was preparation for the future. One day, when he needed to prove that he'd always been thinking ahead, that he'd been working towards his goals since he was young, he would have the evidence neatly compiled.