**Chapter 1: The Fragile Dawn** 

In the quiet outskirts of Daegu, South Korea, eight-year-old Li Jong’s world revolved around the delicate balance between his mother’s tender lullabies and the ominous creak of the front door signaling his father’s return. His mother, Min-ji, was a portrait of resilience, her hands calloused from late-night sewing jobs but her smile ever warm. Their small apartment, cluttered with secondhand toys and moth-eaten blankets, was a sanctuary—until the scent of soju pierced the air.

Li Jong’s father, Tae-sik, was a construction worker whose laughter had long been replaced by slurred curses. On good days, he’d pass out on the couch; on bad ones, the walls shook with his rage. Jong learned to hide in the closet, clutching his mother’s silk scarf—a relic from her wedding day—as muffled cries seeped through the cracks.

**Chapter 2: The Girl with the Sunflower Dress** 

At school, Jong was a ghost, drifting through recess unnoticed until Soo-min arrived. With her sunflower-patterned dress and a braid that swung like a pendulum, she radiated a brightness that pulled him from the shadows. They met over a shared puzzle—a map of the cosmos—and she declared them “cosmic explorers” with a grin. Her father ran the local bookstore, and her stories of dragons and stars became Jong’s refuge. She gifted him a paper crane, its wings inscribed with *“Fly above the storms.”*

**Chapter 3: Cracks in the Sky** 

Winter brought longer nights and Tae-sik’s spiraling temper. One evening, he shattered a vase, its shards grazing Min-ji’s cheek as she shielded Jong. The boy’s hands trembled as he pressed gauze to her wound, her whispers of *“It’s not your fault”* etching into his soul. At school, Soo-min noticed his silence. She slipped him a note: *“Meet me at the bridge. Bring the crane.”* There, they launched paper boats into the stream, their dreams scribbled in crayon. “Someday,” Soo-min vowed, “we’ll sail these to a galaxy with no tears.”

**Chapter 4: The Night the Stars Fell** 

The tragedy struck on a rain-lashed March night. Tae-sik returned, a tempest in human form, his fists a blur. Min-ji pushed Jong into the closet, her final act of love. Through the slats, he watched her fall, her scarf fluttering like a wounded bird. The police found him hours later, still clutching the fabric, its silk stained crimson.

**Chapter 5: The World in Grayscale** 

Jong was sent to his frail grandmother in Busan, where the sea roared its sorrow. He stopped speaking, the paper crane crumpled in his pocket. Then, a letter arrived—Soo-min’s looping script: *“I found a new constellation. It’s called ‘Min-ji.’ Look up at 7 PM.”* That night, he stepped outside, and there, in the twilight, a single firefly flickered. He smiled through tears, its light a whisper: *“You are not alone.”*

**Chapter 6: Wings of Tomorrow** 

Years later, Jong stood at Soo-min’s bookstore, her laughter still a balm. They’d grown into warriors, their childhood scars woven into art—Jong a counselor for broken homes, Soo-min a storyteller. At Min-ji’s memorial, they released cranes into the dawn. “She’d be proud,” Soo-min murmured. Jong nodded, the sunrise painting the sky in hues of resilience.

In the end, the boy who hid in closets learned to turn shadows into wings, guided by a friendship that refused to dim.