Ryu Ji-ho sat quietly in his small, modest room, facing a cluttered desk filled with worn-out books. Outside, the evening sky was beginning to dim, drawing a soft purple hue across the city. Inside the quiet house, the sound of his own breathing felt amplified, as if the weight on his shoulders echoed in the stillness around him.
Though his family lived a simple life, his parents held high hopes for him. They desperately wished for their eldest son to continue his education, to go to university—something they had never been able to achieve themselves. For them, success seemed only possible through higher education. They, like many parents, believed that a degree was the key to unlocking a bright future.
"Haah…" Ji-ho sighed, his gaze settling on the blank notebook lying open before him.
"I should write this down before I forget," he muttered softly, reaching for a pen. In the stillness of the evening, he began to write, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the paper.
Ji-ho wrote things no one else could have possibly known. His mind was filled with an overwhelming flood of memories about the future—memories of presidential elections yet to come, major national projects that would shape the country, the rise of companies destined to dominate the market, and world-shaking events that would leave a lasting mark. He scribbled down thoughts about the development of Gangnam, the harsh blow of the IMF crisis, and even the proud moment when Korea would make it to the World Cup semifinals.
And still, he kept writing, his pen dancing across the pages as he recorded the future of industries—technology, biotechnology, semiconductors—and the cultural tidal wave of Hallyu and K-pop that would eventually redefine global pop culture. Each time his memories grew faint, he would jot down a brief note, promising himself he would fill in the details later.
The notebook in front of him felt like a gateway to a mysterious future. Ji-ho filled it with everything he could remember—from the rise of multiplex cinemas, the dominance of entertainment giants, to the massive trends that would reshape filmmaking, like VFX, CG, and VR. He even wrote about the future of web dramas, the expansion of OTT platforms, and the online and mobile games that would one day captivate millions.
But as the flow of thoughts continued, he paused for a moment. "All this time... I've been lost in the world of film. I don't know much about anything else," he thought to himself. For a brief second, doubt crept into his heart. But he quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself of his purpose.
That night, Ryu Ji-ho wrote without stopping, filling page after page of the once-empty notebook. There was a fire within him, a burning resolve to make the most of this second chance. He knew time was something that couldn't be wasted.
"I have to be careful," he thought, his eyes scanning the pages filled with future secrets.
"If my parents or Sun-ho saw this, it would be dangerous. But if it looks like a regular diary, maybe it'll be safe."
The next morning, before school, Ji-ho took a detour to Dongincheon, a bustling little town always alive with the hum of daily life. He walked briskly, his mind set on protecting his future, guarding his secrets, and starting anew without a single misstep.
In the bustling era of the 1980s and 1990s, Dongincheon Station stood as the heartbeat of Incheon. The city's pulse raced through this station, where nearly every city bus passed through, connecting one corner of Incheon to the other. But it wasn't just a transportation hub; it was situated right in the middle of a vibrant education district. With eight elementary, middle, and high schools clustered nearby, it was as if the station was part of an intricate web of learning that was never truly quiet.
At the entrance to the underground shopping center, Daehan Bookstore became a favorite gathering spot for teenagers. It was their meeting point, the starting place of weekend adventures before heading off to the entertainment districts of Sinpo-dong and Inhyeon-dong. You could feel the energy of the youth flooding the area, especially on weekends when students from all over Incheon filled the streets, eager to spend their free time amidst the city's lively bustle.
This shopping center seemed to hum with life. Shops of all kinds sprouted everywhere—large stationery stores, art supply shops, snack stalls, and even ping-pong parlors. Every corner was alive with activity. Particularly in the lead-up to the new school year in March, the place became nearly impassable without brushing shoulders with someone. Stores selling school supplies and sports uniforms were the stars of the show, and the shop owners wore constant, wide grins as they attended to the endless stream of customers.
Ryu Ji-ho confidently strode through the crowd, his goal set on the large stationery store on the first floor of the shopping complex. This two-story building wasn't just for pens and notebooks; it also housed an art supply shop and a sports gear store. Upstairs, a quirky eatery awaited, complete with a DJ spinning tunes, adding a modern flair to a place that never seemed to lose its steady flow of customers.
As Ji-ho wandered through the store, he paused by a shelf displaying notebooks. He wanted something simple yet elegant—a notebook that would be calm enough to use as a journal. His fingers brushed over the covers of several books before finally settling on the one that felt just right.
"Why bother buying such an expensive notebook?" Go Woochan, his friend, suddenly asked from beside him, his tone playful with a hint of teasing.
"I'm going to start writing a journal," Ji-ho replied casually, not missing a beat.
Woo-chan eyed him with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, his expression reflecting his skepticism.
"Are you serious? Like a grade-school kid writing in a diary?" he teased, one eyebrow arched.
Ji-ho only gave a small, knowing smile. "A journal's important. Writing helps me reflect on what happened today and plan what I want to achieve tomorrow."
Woo-chan narrowed his eyes as if trying to comprehend the odd words coming from his friend. Without another word, he wandered off toward a booth selling posters of teen idols, something much more aligned with his own interests.
To many, a journal might just be a stack of old notes, a place where forgotten memories gather dust, destined to fade away. But to Ryu Ji-ho, a journal was a loyal companion. Within its blank pages, his dreams and plans awaited—each entry a window into the future he was quietly sketching day by day.