Between two worlds | Chanlix

My path, you next

Chan climbed the crumbling concrete steps of his block of flats, the dim glow of the flickering overhead light casting uneven shadows along the walls. The building was a skeleton of its former self; peeling paint and graffiti covered the exterior, while the stench of dampness and neglect clung to the air. It was the kind of place most people tried to avoid—a rough pocket of Seoul where dreams faded quickly and life was a daily struggle.

He unlocked the door to his tiny one-room apartment, a space barely big enough for the mattress on the floor, a chipped wooden table, and a secondhand dresser that leaned slightly to the left. Setting down the cheap plastic bag from the convenience store, Chan pulled out a few instant noodles, a small container of kimchi, and a can of soda. It wasn't much, but it would fill his stomach for the night.

As he stirred the noodles in boiling water, he pulled out his phone and hesitated before tapping on the familiar contact. His mother answered after a few rings, her voice already tinged with weariness.

"Chan-ah, you called," she said, but there was no real warmth in her tone.
"Yeah, I wanted to check in," he replied, forcing a bit of cheerfulness into his voice. "How are things?"

His mother let out a sigh. "The same as always. The sitter says your brother has been acting up again. You know how difficult it is for her to manage him, especially with the long hours. And I can't even

think about changing to a better service... it's already so hard to keep things together."

Chan could picture his younger brother, Jihoon, in his mind—only eleven, yet already carrying the weight of their family's struggles. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. "I'm going to send you some more money soon," he promised. "I just started a new gig. It's temporary, but it pays well, and if things go right, I might even get something more permanent."

His mother's silence on the other end of the line told him everything. She didn't need to say the words for him to know what she was thinking—You've been saying that for years, Chan.

"That would be nice," she replied at last, her voice quiet. "But make sure you take care of yourself too. I don't want you living on the edge just to help us. It's not fair to you."

"It's fine," he said quickly, not wanting her to feel guilty. "I'm used to it. I'll make it work."

They exchanged a few more strained words before the call ended, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth that even the steaming noodles couldn't wash away. Chan sat in silence for a while, staring at the chipped paint on the wall, feeling the familiar pressure settle on his shoulders. The dreams that had once burned brightly in his chest were starting to feel more like a weight, dragging him down rather than lifting him up.

He needed to clear his head.

Chan changed into his running gear, slipping on a pair of worn-out sneakers before heading out. The night air was cool against his skin as he set off toward the river, his breath falling into a steady rhythm with his feet pounding the pavement. The streets were quieter here, with the Han River flowing serenely beside him. He picked up his pace, muscles stretching and heart pumping, the tension slowly bleeding out of him as the city lights glimmered across the water like stars scattered over a dark sky.