Some weeks passed after the viva... the result comes out after 1-2 months after the viva.
The office hummed with its usual rhythm—keyboards clattering, papers rustling, and the occasional soft murmur of colleagues. Soojin sat at her small desk, carefully organizing files and typing memos, the afternoon sunlight spilling through the blinds and casting warm stripes across her workspace.
Though her hands moved with practiced precision, her mind wandered back to the viva. The questions, the examiner's calm, scrutinizing gaze, the way her answers had sounded—she replayed it all quietly in her head. Had she been clear enough? Had she remembered every detail? She wasn't sure.
Sighing softly, she leaned back in her chair. "I did my best," she whispered to herself. "That's all I could do."
Even so, a quiet pride lingered beneath her uncertainty. She had passed the written exam—a fact that still made her heart skip a beat when she thought about it. And now, having faced the viva, she recognized how much she had grown. The nervous tension that had gripped her months ago was replaced by something steadier, a calm certainty born from preparation and perseverance.
She carried her neatly packed lunch to the break corner, placing it on the small table. She picked at it absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting once more to the exam. The waiting period was agonizingly slow, each day blending into the next, yet she no longer felt the panic she would have felt in the past.
"I can't change what's done," she murmured, staring out the window at the bustling street below. "All I can do is keep moving forward. This... this is mine, no matter the result."
Returning to her desk, Soojin straightened papers, checked memos, and filed documents meticulously. Life around her continued in its usual rhythm, but beneath the monotony lay a quiet thrill—a subtle sense of achievement and growth that no letter or result could take away.
For the first time in months, she felt grounded in the present. She had survived the exam, faced her fears, and evolved. And somehow, that felt like enough... at least, for now.
Outside, the city moved on, unaware of the small triumphs tucked inside a quiet office. And inside, Soojin felt a steady pulse of hope beneath the routine, the waiting period no longer empty, but filled with the quiet knowledge that she had already accomplished something remarkable.
The sun was dipping low, casting a warm glow over the quiet street as Soojin unlocked her apartment door. She noticed a small envelope tucked under the doormat—official-looking, heavier than usual. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Could it be...?" she murmured, picking it up carefully.
She tore open the envelope once more, just to make sure. The words glared up at her: "Congratulations, you have successfully been appointed to the Civil Service."
A shout of disbelief and pure joy escaped her lips. "I... I did it! I really did it!"
Without a second thought, she grabbed her coat and dashed toward the bakery where her old part-time days had left her a permanent connection, a place that had always smelled like warmth and sweet dough.
The bell jingled as she burst through the door. Kyungmi, her friend and café part-timer, looked up from behind the counter where she had been arranging pastries.
"Soojin? What—why are you here?" Kyungmi asked, eyebrows raised.
"I... I got it! I got the job!" Soojin exclaimed, waving the letter like a trophy. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes shining.
Kyungmi blinked, then her face lit up in an enormous smile. "Wait... the civil service? The job you've been dreaming of?"
"Yes!" Soojin nearly bounced on her heels. "I got the official letter today! I passed everything—the written, the viva... it's all real!"
The bakery lady, who had been kneading dough nearby, looked up with a warm, knowing smile. "Soojin... is that true? Oh, my dear girl..."
"Yes!" Soojin laughed, holding out the letter. "I got it!"
The bakery lady came over, brushing her floury hands together. "Oh, this calls for a proper celebration! Kyungmi, come help me."
Kyungmi didn't hesitate. She grabbed Soojin's hands and spun her around. "We need cake. Right now. We are not letting this pass quietly!"
The bakery lady nodded, clapping her hands. "I just happen to have a small cake left from this morning's order. Perfect for celebrating!"
Within minutes, the cake—a simple chocolate delight with a few whipped cream flowers—was set on the counter. Soojin, Kyungmi, and the bakery lady each took a side.
"One... two... three—cut!" Kyungmi cheered, and Soojin pressed the knife through the soft chocolate, the frosting sticking to their fingers.
Kyungmi couldn't resist. She took a small piece, smushed it lightly between her fingers, and fed it to Soojin. "Try it! You earned it!"
Soojin laughed, frosting smudging her cheek. "Kyungmi! You're impossible!"
The bakery lady giggled, taking a small bite herself. "No, this is tradition. The celebrant always gets fed first." She leaned over and fed a little piece to Soojin, who burst out laughing, nearly knocking the knife over.
Soon, they were all taking turns feeding each other, laughing so hard that the bell above the door jingled every time someone accidentally bumped it. The small bakery smelled like cake, warm bread, and the kind of joy that could fill an entire street.
Once the cake was demolished, crumbs scattered and frosting wiped from hands, the bakery lady pulled out a small tray of refreshments—tea, juice, and little sandwiches she had prepared earlier. "Come on, let's sit and enjoy. You've earned it, Soojin."
They gathered around a small table near the window. Soojin poured herself some tea, still giggling. "I can't believe this is real. Months of studying, endless nights, and now..." Her voice trailed off, but her eyes sparkled.
Kyungmi leaned back, grinning. "Now you get to enjoy it. And we're going to make today unforgettable. I brought a little extra whipped cream for your tea. You can't celebrate without a little mess, right?"
The bakery lady shook her head, smiling. "These little celebrations... they're what make life sweet. Not just the success, but the people who share it with you."
They talked and laughed, recounted old bakery memories, and Soojin kept glancing at the official letter beside her, still hardly believing it. Kyungmi playfully smudged a tiny bit of frosting on Soojin's nose, and Soojin retaliated with a small piece of cake, erupting into laughter again.
As the evening wore on, the small table was covered with empty plates, tea cups, and happy chatter. The bakery's warm light spilled onto the quiet street outside, a beacon of comfort, pride, and shared joy.
"I can't imagine a better day," Soojin said softly, looking at Kyungmi and the bakery lady. "Thank you... both of you. For everything."
The bakery lady patted her hand gently. "No, dear. You did all the hard work. We're just here to cheer you on."
Kyungmi raised her glass of juice. "To Soojin, the newest civil servant in town! May this be just the beginning!"
Soojin smiled, her heart full. "To beginnings... and to friends who make every step worth celebrating."
They clinked their glasses together, laughter ringing out, and in that cozy bakery, the world outside seemed to pause. Today was theirs—sweet, warm, and unforgettable.
The next morning sun spilled gently over Soojin's apartment, casting long golden streaks across her tidy room. Today was a small yet significant step—a day dedicated to preparation. She wasn't starting at the new office yet, but she needed to tie up loose ends, and perhaps most importantly, close this chapter before stepping into the next.
After a quick shower, she dressed simply but neatly, the modest blouse and skirt a comfortable compromise between casual and professional. Breakfast was light—a cup of tea and a slice of bread—yet she ate slowly, savoring the quiet moments before the day fully unfolded.
Her first stop was the small office where she had been working after leaving the bakery. The building was familiar, almost cozy in its cramped way, the hum of old fans and the faint smell of paper and ink immediately grounding her. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
"Good morning, Mr. Han," she greeted her supervisor politely.
"Ah, Soojin! Come to see me?" Mr. Han looked up from his desk, a hint of curiosity in his expression.
"Yes, sir," she said, summoning a calm composure. "I... wanted to formally submit my resignation. I've been offered another position, and my first day will be next week."
Mr. Han's face shifted into a soft smile. "I see. Congratulations, Soojin. You've worked hard here, and I'm glad to see you moving forward. We'll miss you, of course."
Soojin handed over the neatly typed resignation letter. "Thank you, sir. I've learned a lot here, and I appreciate all your guidance."
He nodded, taking the letter. "You've been responsible, dependable... I have no doubt you'll do well in your new role."
The conversation was brief, professional, and courteous. And yet, the act of officially stepping away felt weighty, a quiet acknowledgment that she was leaving a chapter of her life behind.
With her resignation submitted, Soojin stepped back out into the bustling streets. The city was alive with early afternoon energy—vendors calling out, children running along sidewalks, and bicycles weaving past pedestrians. She clutched her small purse, feeling a curious mixture of freedom and anticipation.
Today wasn't just any shopping trip—it was about preparing herself for the first day at her new office. She wanted something timeless, neat, and professional, the kind of attire that a respectable 90s civil servant in Korea would wear, elegant yet practical.
Her first stop was a boutique known for its refined, classic pieces. As she entered, the faint scent of polished wood and fabric welcomed her. Rows of blouses, skirts, and tailored jackets lined the walls, all muted tones and soft fabrics—perfect for someone who wanted to look elegant without being flashy.
Soojin ran her fingers over a cream silk blouse. The fabric was soft yet structured, falling just right. She held it against herself, imagining stepping into the office. The blouse whispered professional grace, but paired with the right skirt or jacket, it could also convey confidence and poise.
She moved to a rack of skirts and trousers, her eyes scanning for something modern yet timeless. A tailored pencil skirt in deep navy caught her attention, the fabric soft but holding its shape beautifully. She held it against her waist, admiring the silhouette in the mirror. It was perfectly stylish—classic enough to command respect, yet subtle enough to feel youthful.
Next, she examined jackets. A fitted blazer in charcoal grey with subtle shoulder pads and clean lines made her pause. She slipped it on. The blazer hugged her shoulders elegantly, accentuating her posture. She smoothed the lapels and caught her reflection: poised, polished, ready to step into the professional world with style and confidence.
Accessories were next. She selected a thin leather belt in soft tan, a pair of low-heeled pumps in matching brown, and a structured handbag that was both practical and understatedly elegant. Each piece seemed chosen to enhance the outfit's sophistication without drawing attention away from her overall presence.
Soojin's reflection in the mirror made her smile. Every detail mattered—from the crisp hem of the skirt to the delicate clasp of the bag. Even in the 90s, when fashion wasn't as fast-moving as today, her choices radiated professionalism fused with personal style. She had taken the time, invested her savings wisely, and created a wardrobe that wasn't just clothes—it was her new identity coming to life.
At the small shoe shop nearby, she tried on the final piece: a pair of sleek brown pumps with a subtle pointed toe. She walked back and forth, noting the balance of comfort and elegance. They made her stride confident, the perfect finish to her ensemble.
When she finally stepped out of the boutique, shopping bags in hand, the afternoon sunlight caught the tailored lines of her outfit. She felt a sense of quiet triumph and self-assuredness. Every choice she had made spoke of her ambition, style, and readiness to embrace the next chapter.
This wasn't just dressing up—it was declaring herself ready, poised to enter the professional world with elegance, confidence, and unmistakable class. As she walked home, she could almost see herself in the office next week, every step reflecting the stylish, capable civil servant she was now becoming.
With her wardrobe complete and her heart full, Soojin felt ready to greet the next week—not just as a civil servant, but as the version of herself she had fought to become. Ready to shine in hard earned place......