Between Books and Falling Leaves"

The soft hum of dawn barely brushed the sky when Hyeon's alarm rang faintly in the background. It was five in the morning—earlier than most of the world cared to wake. Still wrapped in the warmth of his blanket, Hyeon blinked sleepily at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hush that filled the house. A moment later, he stretched his arms lazily, his body moving with the calm rhythm of someone used to early mornings.

After a long yawn, he sat up and gently smoothed the folds of his blanket. Neatness had become second nature to him—not because anyone insisted, but because of the silent discipline instilled in him over the years. He rose from his bed and shuffled to the bathroom, the cold tiles waking him up better than the water that splashed over his face moments later.

Feeling more refreshed, he stepped out of the bathroom and made his way toward the most familiar part of the house—his grandmother’s room. Ever since he could remember, it had been a ritual. A kind of reassurance. But when he opened the door gently, he found the bed already made, the blankets tucked in tight, and the pillows fluffed—just the way his grandmother liked.

A small smile curled on his lips.

"She always wakes up before me," he thought, his heart warming at the simple, consistent love in her routines. He didn’t worry—he knew exactly where she would be.

Sure enough, when he reached the kitchen, the smell of warm soup and toasted seaweed hit him first. There she was—his grandmother—standing by the stove in her faded floral apron, humming an old lullaby as she carefully arranged a plate with rice, kimchi, and rolled eggs. The morning sunlight streamed in through the small window, bathing her silver-streaked hair in a soft golden glow.

"Good morning, Grandma," he said quietly.

She turned to him with the gentlest smile. “You’re up early, sweetheart,” she replied, her voice full of warmth. “I made your favorite today. Eat before it gets cold.”

"No matter how early I wake up, she always beats me to it," Hyeon thought again as he shook his head with a quiet smile.

But before sitting down to eat, he went back to his room to study. Even just half an hour mattered to him. Books were not only his path to success but also his escape. He lost himself in formulas and vocabulary words until the clock reminded him to get ready. He returned to the kitchen, warmed up the food in the microwave, ate quickly, and grabbed his schoolbag.

The city bus ride took about twenty minutes. The bus was always crowded at that time, full of students and office workers. Hyeon, used to the routine, stood quietly near the window, headphones in, eyes drifting over the busy streets of Seoul.

When he arrived at Marim Middle School, he stepped into the school building with calm familiarity. He was in his senior year, in the class reserved for the brightest students. He made his way to his seat by the window and sat down silently. That corner of the classroom had always been his little world. From there, he would watch the trees outside, the shifting clouds, the birds that came and went, and sometimes, he’d simply listen—to the wind, to the silence between the lessons.

Today, the breeze was especially gentle. The trees swayed in rhythm, their leaves fluttering lightly like whispers. The morning sun filtered through the branches, casting golden flecks on the ground. Hyeon stared out, lost in that serene moment, letting his thoughts drift like the falling leaves outside.

Then, the bell rang—sharp and sudden—breaking the peace.

Students shuffled to their seats as the teacher entered. Everyone stood and greeted in unison, “Good morning, teacher!” And just like that, the day began.

Class after class passed—the sound of chalk against the board, the scribbling of pens, and the occasional soft laughter filling the room. By the final period, fatigue had settled over the classroom like a soft fog. Still, the students pushed through, focused on the teacher’s voice, minds clinging to the last bits of concentration.

At last, the school bell rang again—signaling the end of the day.

As the teacher packed up, they called out, “Study well, see you tomorrow!”

Hyeon began to put his books into his bag with the same calm rhythm he always had. Just then, his friend Jun bounced over, his usual cheerful grin plastered across his face.

"Hyeon, come on! We’re all going out to hang out. It’ll be fun!”

Hyeon smiled softly but shook his head. “I wish I could, but I really have to go.”

Jun groaned dramatically. “You’re already the top student in the whole school! Why do you study so much? Just come have fun for once!”

Hyeon chuckled under his breath, appreciating the gesture, but he didn’t change his mind. “Sorry… but I really can’t.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked away.

But he didn’t go to the library like everyone assumed.

Instead, he made his way into the heart of the city, to a quiet little bookstore tucked between taller buildings. He entered through the back entrance, where a small staff room awaited him. Without a word, he changed out of his school uniform and into a plain T-shirt and comfortable pants. His school life faded into the background.

Soon, he was behind the counter, helping customers find the perfect novel, restocking shelves, organizing dusty corners. Most people saw just another part-time worker—but this was Hyeon’s secret world.

No one at school knew.

No one knew that the top student at Marim Middle School spent his evenings not buried in textbooks, but working to support the one person he loved most.

His grandmother, though loving and strong, had grown old and tired. She still worked hard, refusing to burden him—but Hyeon saw through her smiles, the way her hands trembled sometimes, how she winced when standing too long. He couldn’t let her carry it all. So, quietly, and without complaint, he took on the weight himself.

His friends thought he was just the quiet, studious boy. But behind the top grades, behind the books and the silence, there was a boy carrying a world no one could see.

A boy who, despite everything, still found beauty in falling leaves and golden mornings.

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