Hyun-Jae stepped into the house, the quiet almost oppressive compared to the noisy chaos of the streets. The morning sun spilled through the windows, casting familiar patterns across the floorboards, but it did little to lift the weight pressing on his chest.
He found his family gathered in the living room. His mother sat on the couch, reading silently. Yumi was beside her, scrolling on her phone, and Harin played quietly with her tablet on the floor. The air was calm, but the tension from yesterday lingered, unspoken.
Hyun-Jae paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath. "I'm back," he said softly.
Harin looked up first. "Did you finish your jog?" she asked.
"Yeah," Hyun-Jae replied, moving toward the kitchen to set down his bag. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank deeply, the cool liquid helping him steady his thoughts.
He returned to the living room, sitting down cautiously across from them. His fingers fidgeted in his lap as he tried to find the right way to begin. "I… I went to the enlistment facility," he said finally, keeping his voice calm.
His mother looked up sharply. "Enlistment? what for?"
"I… I thought it'd be better this way," he said quietly. "I didn't want to make things harder for you… for any of you."
The room fell silent. His father wasn't there but the weight of Hyun-Jae's words filled the space. Yumi frowned, sensing the gravity of what he was saying, and Harin simply stared, wide-eyed and uncertain.
"I… signed up for our family," Hyun-Jae continued, swallowing hard. "I'm going to be part of the draft."
The silence stretched even longer, heavy with disbelief and worry. His mother's hand moved to her mouth, eyes wide, and Yumi's phone nearly slipped from her hand. Harin hugged her knees, quiet but trembling slightly.
Hyun-Jae's chest tightened. "I know this… this isn't easy. I just…" He paused, searching for words. "I just couldn't wait. I needed to do it… for Dad, for everyone."
Yumi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Hyun-Jae… you can't be serious. You don't even"
"I am," he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. "I've made my decision. I can't turn back now."
Harin's small voice broke the tension. "You'll… you'll be okay, right?"
Hyun-Jae reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll do everything I can. I promise."
The words hung in the air, a fragile thread of reassurance. The house remained quiet, but for the first time since he made his choice, Hyun-Jae felt a strange sense of resolve settle inside him. He didn't know what lay ahead, or what trials awaited, but the path was set.
And he would walk it, no matter how hard it became
Hyun-Jae's mother finally spoke, her voice tight with anger and fear. "Hyun-Jae! How could you make a decision like this without even talking to me first? You can't just… just decide to do something this dangerous!"
Hyun-Jae looked at her calmly, though his chest tightened with the tension in the room. "Mom… I already told Dad," he said quietly. "He accepted it. I… I thought this was for the best."
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the couch. "For the best? This isn't just some choice! This is your life you're talking about!"
"I know," Hyun-Jae said, keeping his voice steady. "I've thought about it. I didn't want to make things harder for you or Yumi, or Harin. But if we wait… it won't get any easier. This… this is what has to happen."
His mother's gaze softened for a moment, but the worry still clouded her eyes. She took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "I just… I don't want to lose you. Not like this."
Hyun-Jae reached out, taking her hand in his. "You won't," he said firmly. "I'll do everything I can to come back safe. I promise."
"I will try my best to find a position that involves me not being in the battlefield."
The house fell into a tense silence, the weight of the decision hanging over them all. Yumi's arms crossed, frowning but saying nothing, while Harin clutched her doll, looking between them with wide, uncertain eyes.
Hyun-Jae squeezed his mother's hand gently. "I know it's scary. I know it's sudden. But we don't have the luxury of waiting anymore. This… this is for the best, Mom."
She let out a long, shaky sigh, finally nodding slightly, though the worry in her eyes didn't fade. "Just… promise me you'll come back," she whispered.
"I promise," he said again, the words firm and steady, though inside he still felt the weight of what was coming.
---
The rest of the day passed in a haze. After the conversation with his mother, Hyun-Jae retreated to his room and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep came fitfully, weighed down by the knowledge of what he had committed to. The next few days slipped by in a blur—morning runs, quiet meals, and stolen moments of reflection—but each day brought the same gnawing anticipation.
During that time, his father was finally discharged from the hospital. Seeing him return home brought a flicker of relief, though the sight of his father still pale and weak reminded Hyun-Jae of the burden he now carries. He tried to train, running laps around the neighborhood and practicing a few drills in his room, but he knew deep down it wouldn't be enough. His body was far from ready for what awaited him.
Then, finally, a notification arrived from the government. The screen glowed with the message: a location and time for all volunteers to report for preparation. The words were simple, but their weight was enormous. Hyun-Jae read them over and over, feeling a mixture of dread and resolve settle in his chest.
The night before departure, sleep eluded him. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of his clock. When the first light of dawn crept through the window, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the house. He moved with deliberate quiet, knowing that waking anyone especially his mother and sisters would make the inevitable goodbyes even harder.
He dressed quickly and checked his bag one last time, ensuring he had everything he would need. A deep breath filled his lungs as he opened the door and stepped into the morning air. The streets were quiet, the world just beginning to wake, but in his chest, a storm of anticipation raged.
Today was the day.
And there was no turning back.
As Hyun-Jae crept toward the door, a voice called out behind him. "Hyun-Jae! Where do you think you're going without telling anyone?"
He froze, guilt immediately flooding him, and slowly turned around. There, in the doorway, stood his father, mother, and Yumi, all watching him with concern and quiet resolve.
"I… I didn't want to make the goodbyes any harder," he said softly, voice tight.
Yumi stepped forward, a small but reassuring smile on her face. "You said you're coming back, right? Then this isn't goodbye."
Hyun-Jae felt warmth creep into his chest at her words, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
His father approached, holding something in his hand. "Here," he said, handing Hyun-Jae a watch. "This was mine when I served, back in the day. Keep it as a keepsake… and when you come back, I better see it still on your wrist."
Hyun-Jae nodded, sliding the watch onto his wrist. A faint smile crossed his face as he looked at his father.
Then he turned to his mother. She wrapped him in a tight hug, her voice trembling slightly. "You better come back," she whispered, pressing something into his hands.
Hyun-Jae opened his fingers to find a small drawing—Harin's artwork of the family. She hadn't been able to give it to him herself, but it was just as precious.
Hearing her little voice in his mind, he chuckled softly. "Harin…"
He hugged the drawing to his chest for a moment, then looked at his family one last time. "I'll come back," he said, voice steady but filled with emotion.
With a deep breath, Hyun-Jae stepped out the door, leaving the house behind but carrying the weight of his family and their faith in him with every step.
Hyun-Jae moved slowly, his footsteps quiet against the pavement. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of a city just beginning to wake. The bus sat at the pickup point with the doors open and a few volunteers who were already stepping aboard, each carrying the same weight of uncertainty in their eyes.
He climbed the steps carefully, choosing a seat near the middle. The engine rumbled beneath him as the driver checked the mirrors, and the bus began to pull away from the curb.
Outside, the familiar streets blurred past, the neighborhood gradually shrinking as the city gave way to wider avenues. Hyun-Jae kept his hands in his lap, fingers lightly tracing the strap of his bag, the watch on his wrist a constant reminder of the promise he had made to his father.
The bus was mostly quiet, the occasional whispered conversation or soft sigh breaking the silence. He stole glances at the other volunteers, faces unfamiliar yet familiar in the way worry and determination could make strangers seem connected. Some stared out the windows, others fidgeted nervously with their gear, and a few simply sat with their eyes closed, lost in thought.
Hyun-Jae leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath. The road ahead was long, and the uncertainty of what awaited weighed heavily on him but there was no turning back now.
The bus rolled onward, carrying him closer to the preparation site, and with every passing moment, the anticipation of the trials to come tightened in his chest.