# Teenager
You are a homeless teenager who has left home.
You have no school, no job, and the social services say you're still 'too young' to access certain support.
Without parental consent, accessing welfare benefits is extremely difficult.
[[Continue|청소년1]]# Elderly
You are an elderly person living alone.
You try to apply for Supplemental Security Income (SSI), but your application is denied due to your son's income being counted against you.
You haven't spoken to your son in 10 years, but on paper, the system still considers him responsible for your care.
[[Continue|복지 접촉_노인]]
# Young Adult
Getting out of bed each morning feels like climbing a mountain.
Your thoughts are clouded, and a sense of helplessness weighs you down.
At the community support center, they just dismiss you with: "Our services are for those who are actively employed. Come back when you have a job."
[[Continue|Support ServicesYoung Adult]]# Migrant Worker
You are a day laborer hired on a daily basis.
Moving between factories, construction sites, and warehouses, you work without a single contract.
Every morning, you line up in front of the labor agency,
holding your breath when assigned work, fearing they might ask for identification.
A few days ago, you injured your back from a falling box at the warehouse,
but the hospital demanded identification and documentation,
and you had no choice but to turn around and leave.
With your visa now expired, knocking on the door of a welfare agency
could be an even greater risk than seeking treatment.
Today, as always, all you know is how to endure.
[[Continue|78]]
The social worker says:
"It's difficult to approve your benefits because you have an adult child. You say you can't... reach him?"
* [[혼자 생활을 지속한다->노인_고립]]
* [[법적 절차를 시도한다->노인_부양의무탈락]]
:: 노인_고립
Without any pension, you cut back on meals to survive.
On the day your electricity is cut off for unpaid bills, you fall while trying to walk by holding onto the wall.
It takes two days before a neighbor finds you.
[[Would you like to try again?->복지 접촉_노인]]
:: Elderly
After a lengthy legal battle, you are finally exempt from your child's financial responsibility,
but the process was long and painful.
And you still feel lonely.
[[Continu|노인_기초생활]]
:: Elderly_Daily_Isolation
The only human voice you hear all day
is the "Hello" from the volunteer delivering your meal from the community center.
You'd like to join local community programs,
but with limited mobility, both transportation and digital devices are barriers for you.
"Apply using your smartphone."
"Just check the app."
But you can't see the small text clearly,
and you have no children to ask for help.
Some days, you go without speaking to anyone at all.
Welfare benefits may sustain your life,
but there's no way to 'share' your life with others.
[[Continu|노인번역끝최종]]
After much deliberation, you visit a nearby welfare center.
As you open the door, unfamiliar words scatter around you. You struggle to explain your situation, but the staff member looks perplexed.
"We don't have anyone who can interpret right now..."
With great difficulty, you manage to convey that you're sick, your work has decreased, and you've come seeking help.
The staff member flips through some documents and asks:
"Do you have any residence-related documents?" You silently shake your head.
They add in a somewhat cautious tone:
"Public welfare is only available to legal residents. Legally, we can't use the budget for... I can connect you with a few organizations, but even they have limited foreign language interpretation, and their support is very restricted."
On your way back, you hear someone at a day labor office by the roadside saying, "I heard there's a crackdown on illegal residents." You instinctively lower your head and quicken your pace.
[[소개받은 단체를 찾아간다|이주민NGO]]
[[리스크를 줄이기 위해 발길을 돌린다->89]]:: 이주민_불안정한 삶
You live each day in constant anxiety, never knowing when you might be caught in a crackdown.
Days repeat themselves as you struggle to survive amid low wages, precarious health, and isolated relationships.
[[9]]
:: Welfare Contact
"Without guardian consent, we cannot provide formal support. Let me refer you to the local Child Protection Services."
The social welfare office categorises you 'administratively'.
But Child Protection Services won't accept anyone over 18, and the youth shelters are already at full capacity.
* [[Look for other support organisations->TeenagerAgencyHopping]]
* [[Refuse and wander the streets->청소년,거리생활 ]]::
You've fallen inside your home,
but there's no one to call for help, no emergency button.
After several days, a neighbor finally comes by
and discovers you lying on the floor.
You tried to apply for the 'Emergency Safety Service',
but the case worker says, "Eligibility is tied to your pension status, and you don't qualify."
Technology has advanced, and systems exist.
But these systems
fail to reach into homes that are too quiet.
[[되돌아가기|1]]
::
One day, you were subjected to an ID check in front of the market.
After being taken to a temporary shelter, the state assigns you an immigration number
and notifies you of a "deportation order."
"What about my family?" "Does my child have to leave too?"
No one answers these questions.
Your time here is erased,
and a person's life is reduced to a few administrative documents.
No one asks what made you "illegal" in the first place.
[[되돌아가기|1]]
#Unstable Life
Your precarious residence status makes each day begin in fear.
When there's a knock on the door at dawn,
you hold your breath, afraid it might be immigration officers.
Saying "I got injured at work" could actually trigger deportation procedures.
Neither hospitals nor police stations are safe spaces for you.
"I'll just have to endure the pain and live with it."
This phrase has become a habit on your lips.
With the label of an illegal resident,
you become someone who cannot receive protection.
[[계속->26]]
::
You leave the welfare center.
Without proper documentation, you find yourself standing outside the system.
You drag your ailing body toward your workplace.
Your injured arm hasn't healed yet, but you can't afford to rest.
If you quit working, you won't be able to pay next month's rent.
Medical expenses are entirely out of your own pocket.
You endure the pain with over-the-counter painkillers from convenience stores.
Going to a hospital is out of the question.
The days when you don't receive your wages on time are increasing.
But you keep silent, fearing that complaining might cost you your job.
Your days are always uncertain,
passing by without being recorded anywhere.
[[Go back|78]]:: Start
''You are standing at the edge of the welfare state.''
They say everyone deserves a dignified life.
That no one should go without healthcare, housing, or social support.
That from cradle to grave, no one should fall through the cracks of society.
But the reality is, the social safety net is full of gaps.
Bureaucratic requirements. Endless forms. Long waiting lists.
Sometimes, the door to assistance remains invisible.
Now, it's your turn to seek help—or to wonder why your calls go unanswered.
''Who are you in this system?''
(text-colour:yellow)[''Who are you in this system?'']
[<span>[[Teenager|Teenager - 번역끝]]</span> <span>[[Young Adult|Young Adult 번역끝 스토리 중간 보강]]</span><br>
<span>[[Migrant Worker|Migrant Worker 번역끝]]</span> <span>[[Elder|Elder]]</span><br>
<span>[[Disabled Person|Disabled Person 스토리끝 번역 안됨]]</span> <span>[[Single Parent|Single Parent 번역끝 스토리 미완]]</span>]
# Disabled Person
You wanted to live outside the facility.
But the welfare worker says,
"If you leave the facility, it will be difficult to provide further support."
To you who dreams of independence,
the state says "it's too dangerous."
What follows is not support, but surveillance and control.
[[Continue|복지 접촉장애인]]
::
You visit the welfare center for independence.
But it's not easy from the very first step.
There's no wheelchair ramp at the entrance.
You ask a passing citizen for help to get over the threshold.
Inside, there are no Braille guides, and the number ticket system has no audio support.
The welfare staff member says,
"Independent living is possible, but there's a severe shortage of care workers.
Most people end up staying in facilities—that's the reality."
You've barely made it past the entrance,
yet you're already hitting countless walls of 'standards' and 'budgets.'
'Why do I have to give up so much
just because I said I want to live in my own home?'
[[Give up independence and return to the facility->장애인 시설귀환]]
[[Attempt independence even if support is cut off|자립시도]]:: Disabled Facility Return
In the end, you had no choice but to return to the facility.
Freedom in the facility is limited.
"Isn't this surveillance?"
"It's for your safety."
It wasn't a free life.
"I guess I can't do it alone after all.
It would be better to return to the facility."
"I just forgot for a moment."
"We have to think about what could happen. The facility is safer."
Going outside or meeting friends isn't easy.
You feel frustrated and helpless,
realizing that your choices are gradually diminishing.
"Is this really the life I want?"
[[Try again|자립시도]]
:: pt
Despite all the difficulties, you decided to live outside the facility.
In a reality lacking wheelchair ramps and Braille guides, you set out to find your own way.
You went around real estate agencies, but the answers were always similar.
"Wheelchair? Hmm... there are no properties that meet those conditions."
Finally, you were introduced to one place.
It was a semi-basement, but it had a ramp and the bathroom door was wide enough.
The deposit was much more expensive than expected, but you proceeded with the contract, holding onto the hope that you could apply for the disabled housing support program.
"They say you can't receive duplicate support, so if you get housing assistance, you'll have to give up living expense support."
[[Continu|일자리찾기]]
You, who barely succeeded in getting a job.
After missing several buses that weren't low-floor buses and passing subway stations without elevators, you arrived at the company.
But you pause momentarily in front of the entrance stairs as there's no wheelchair ramp.
There are no Braille signs either, and when you try to ask staff for help,
most employees lack understanding about disabled people's mobility rights or independence.
Still, without giving up, you enter the consultation room and begin to speak up for yourself.
"Everyone needs equal access rights."
Here, you connect with people who share the same concerns,
and join movements to create small changes.
[[이동권 요구하기|지원요구]]::
You prepare a petition demanding improvements to mobility rights and accessibility within the welfare center.
However, the administrative procedures are complex, and change feels frustratingly slow.
Some staff members show interest, but due to budget constraints and lack of awareness,
substantial support remains inadequate.
Nevertheless, you don't give up, and seek help from the local community and human rights organizations,
joining voices together for greater change.
* [[더 강력히 요구하기|요청2]]
:: 장애인_강력요구
You collaborate with the local community and human rights organizations to launch a public campaign.
Through social media and street petition drives, you gain the attention and support of more people.
However, some oppose the changes, criticizing your demands as '''excessive.'''
Social prejudice and institutional barriers remain as high as ever.
Nevertheless, you stand firm, working to make known that disabled people's rights are fundamental human rights.
This section shows the protagonist's advocacy efforts expanding into broader public awareness campaigns, while also revealing the resistance and backlash that often accompanies demands for disability rights. It emphasizes the persistence required to challenge deeply entrenched social attitudes and systemic barriers..
* [[계속해서 싸우기|장애인계속싸우기]]:: 장애인_계속싸우기
As time passes, your movement gradually creates change.
Ramps are installed in some buildings, and Braille signs and sign language interpretation are introduced.
The local council begins discussing ordinances to strengthen disabled people's independence and access rights.
There are still many walls to overcome, but your voice is no longer alone.
Small changes eventually become waves, transforming the path for those who come after.
''"For the right to live in spaces of life, not in facilities."''
[[다시 처음으로|1]]
:: 이주민NGO
Through a small local NGO, you received interpretation services and basic medical care.
However, resources are limited, and the period they can help you is very short.
Life dependent on individual goodwill rather than the national system is always unstable.
[[Continue|12]]:: Single Parent
You are a single parent. Balancing a toddler on one hand and sorting through bills on the kitchen table, you face another challenging day.
When you catch the flu, there's no one to call for childcare,
and when rent is due, you have no safety net to fall back on.
The local daycare center has told you to expect at least 6 months on their waitlist,
while your retail job barely covers the essentials your growing child needs.
Your housing assistance application was denied because you make "just over the limit."
The childcare subsidy program says you "don't work enough hours to qualify."
They expect you to work more, but without affordable childcare, it's an impossible situation.
[[Continue->SingleParentSupport]]
You make a call to your workplace.
"I can't possibly come in today. My child is sick."
But the response is a blunt statement.
"You've been replaced."
The welfare system classifies you as 'voluntarily unemployed'
because you left your job for caregiving reasons.
You cannot receive unemployment benefits.
[[되돌아가기|SingleParentSupport]]You decide to try other organisations, clutching the crumpled list of contacts the social worker hastily scribbled for you.
First stop: Youth Crisis Centre.
"We need parental consent for minors... or a referral from Child Protection."
Second stop: Community Support Hub.
"Our funding only covers residents with a fixed address. Do you have proof of residence?"
Third stop: Faith-based Shelter.
"We can offer you a meal and a bed for tonight, but our policy limits stays to three days maximum."
Each place has its own rules, requirements, and limitations.
Each has a reason why they can't fully help you.
As you lay on the thin mattress at the shelter, you wonder:
How many more doors will you have to knock on before finding real help?
[[continue searching tomorrow|그룹홈]]:: Teenager Street Life
You survive by moving between train stations, underpasses, and friends' couches.
Your phone service is cut off, and you can't even afford basic hygiene products or menstrual supplies.
Late at night, with nowhere to go, you sit in a 24-hour café trying to get some sleep.
The welfare system is nowhere to be found.
[[Continue|거리생활1]]:: Street Dangers
At night, you are no longer just a 'teenager'.
Some see you as an 'easy target', Others approach offering money.
At first, you refused,
But after days of hunger, you think, "I might actually die like this."
No one helped you,
And now you must find your own way to survive.
Whatever that means.
That night, you finally get into a stranger's car.
And the next day, the social services ask, "Why didn't you come to us sooner?"
But until that day,
Where were you supposed to be?
[[Continue->SystemBarriers]]:: Teenager System Barriers
You've reached the social services office, but you have no ID,
And cannot get your guardian's consent.
The counsellor carefully explains:
"Legally, we cannot provide support to minors without parental consent."
You came seeking help,
But the system treats you as a 'problem case',
And once again, doors close.
"If you've left home due to domestic violence,
You need to report it to the Family Court first."
But that's exactly the place you were trying to avoid.
The threshold for welfare is too high, and reality is cold.
You are forced back onto the streets.Free clinics, food banks...
Somewhere you receive formula, somewhere you find a moment of hope. But none of it lasts long.
This system is designed with the assumption of two parents, two incomes, and sufficient time. But you are just one person. Barely hanging on, carrying everything alone.
Your child has a fever. Your shift starts in two hours.
What will you do?
[[Take your child with you to work->아이데리고가기]]
[[called in sick to take care of the child|한부모_실직]] :: Support Services Young Adult
A few weeks later, you gather the courage to visit the community support center again. This time, you've brought your temporary job pay stub.
"I found a job, at least. Though it's temporary..." you say, handing over the document.
The staff member reviews the paperwork and nods. "Good. Now we can begin the counseling process."
Guided to the counseling room, you slowly start to unpack the heavy emotions that have been weighing on you. The sleepless nights, the overwhelming anxiety over small matters, the endless worries about the future...
The counselor listens attentively and carefully suggests:
"It seems you might need a mental health assessment. I recommend consulting with a specialist."
[[Welfare Contact|YoungAdult]]:: Welfare Contact Young Adult
The staff member says:
"You need a medical diagnosis, but having psychiatric treatment records can make it harder to find employment."
* [[Give up on treatment->Young AdultNeglect]]
* [[Get diagnosed->Young AdultDiagnosis]]:: Neglect
You decide to avoid getting a diagnosis, worried about the stigma it might bring.
"I can handle this on my own," you tell yourself.
But without proper support or treatment, your struggles intensify.
Sleep becomes elusive, anxiety grows stronger, and daily tasks feel overwhelming.
You try to push through, applying for jobs and maintaining a facade of normalcy.
During interviews, you force smiles and hide your trembling hands.
"Are you okay? You seem a bit tense," an interviewer notices.
"I'm fine, just nervous," you lie.
The rejections pile up, and each one feels like confirmation of your worst fears.
Your savings dwindle, and the isolation deepens.
Friends drift away as you cancel plans and avoid social gatherings.
"Why don't you just see someone?" a concerned friend suggests.
But the fear of being labeled, of having it on your record, keeps you trapped.
[[Seek help despite the risks->Young AdultDiagnosis]]:: Young Adult_Diagnosis
After getting diagnosed, you become eligible for certain support programs,
but the "mental health history" on your record works against you at many companies.
You've gained access to welfare services, but society still stigmatizes you.
[[Continue->Young AdultEmployment Barriers]]:: Young Adult_Diagnosis
After receiving your diagnosis, you gain access to certain mental health programs.
However, your life doesn't become any easier afterward.
The gaps in your resume and your medical history act like unexplainable holes.
During job interviews, the question "Have you ever received psychiatric treatment?"
is implicitly asked, and when you try to sign up for health insurance,
private insurance companies notify you that "coverage is not possible due to history of mental illness."
While the welfare system has extended a helping hand for treatment,
society uses this very fact to close its doors to you, one by one.
[[Continue->Young AdultEmployment]]:: Young Adult_Employment Barriers
Several interviews quietly fizzle out to nothing.
Some places express exclusion disguised as empathy: "Our work environment can be mentally challenging—are you sure you can handle it?"
You continue checking job postings, sending resumes, and waiting for responses.
But there's no steady income each month, your rent payments fall behind,
and even scheduling doctor's appointments to get your prescription refills becomes difficult to manage.
You hear people say "adapt to society,"
but society doesn't create a place for you to stand.
[[Keep trying|Persistent Efforts]]:: Young Adult_Informal Employment
Unable to secure formal employment, you eventually take on "day labor" at construction sites through a friend's connection.
There's no employment contract, and safety equipment is inadequate.
One day, your foot catches on a rebar and you take a bad fall.
When you visit the hospital, you have to pay the full medical costs out of pocket because you have no insurance.
You apply for "Emergency Welfare Assistance," but your application is rejected due to insufficient proof of current address and income.
[[Continue->Young Adult_Welfare Limitations]]:: Young Adult_Welfare Limitations
Every time you think you've found an exit, the door is closed with paperwork.
Medical certificates, proof of address, income verification...
The system keeps demanding proof from you, the person who needs help the most.
Without a permanent residence, you can't provide proper documentation.
Without documentation, you can't receive welfare benefits.
Without benefits, you're forced back onto the streets.
Help clearly existed,
but because you couldn't prove your eligibility for that help,
you are ultimately pushed outside the system.You've come to work with your child. A quiet tension fills the office.
"Isn't it a parent's responsibility to care for their child?" Someone states firmly. "At work, employees need to work. Solve your family issues at home."
Two voices push against each other. One tries to place the entire burden on you as a caregiver, while the other demands your role as a worker.
But nobody mentions social care systems. To your question, "What am I supposed to do then?" All that returns is a heavy silence.
Needing to care for your child while also having to work, you're increasingly breaking down between the two.
What choice should you have made?
[[Continue->5]]#Time-Limited Protection
You went to a group home as your last hope.
"You can stay safely here," the staff says. "But you must leave on the day you turn 18."
For the first time, you receive a warm bed and regular meals. For the first time, someone listens to your story. For the first time, you feel the stability to plan for a future.
But the calendar dates pass quickly. As your birthday approaches, your anxiety grows.
"Where do I go when I become an adult?" you ask. "There are independent living programs, but the waiting list is long," the counselor answers.
You are racing against the clock. The time of protection is limited, and the candles on your 18th birthday cake will only illuminate another uncertain future.
"The moment you become an adult, the system considers you 'ready.' But in reality... who is truly prepared?"
After finding a place to live, the most urgent thing is to find a source of income.
You attended a job fair for people with disabilities, but most were either simple repetitive tasks or part-time jobs.
"You're good with computers. But are you able to commute to work?"
To the interviewer's question, you answered having memorized the public transportation routes by heart. Transfer from subway line 2 to line 5, then take one more bus and it's possible. It takes an hour and a half each way, but you can do it.
Personal assistance services, independent living support centers, vocational rehabilitation facilities, job support workers... what applies to you and how to apply for them remains difficult to understand.
"If you receive support A, you can't receive support B,"
"You exceed the income criteria," "You're already receiving other services."
[[Continue|다음단계]]::Beginning of Isolation
You return home with your child, defeated and exhausted.
The whispers from the office still echo in your ears.
"Maybe I should have left them at daycare when they had a fever."
"But what kind of parent does that make me?"
The guilt eats away at you from both sides.
Your phone buzzes with missed calls from your supervisor.
You know what's coming - another "conversation" about your attendance.
Your child tugs at your sleeve, asking for dinner, unaware of the storm brewing around your livelihood.
The bills pile up on the kitchen table: daycare fees, medical expenses, rent.
Your salary barely covers the basics, and now with missed work days
you're calculating - how many more days can you miss before they let you go?
[[Job Quit|6]]
[[Stay at Work|7]]
You stare at your resignation letter, pen hovering over the signature line.
"If I quit, I can be there for my child completely."
"But how will we survive financially?"
The math is brutal and unforgiving.
Your salary barely enough to cover rent, food, and childcare.
Government assistance a fraction of what you actually need.
"Single parent allowance won't even cover half the rent," you mutter.
You submit the resignation anyway, choosing your child over financial stability.
The first few weeks feel liberating.
No more rushing in the mornings, no more guilt about leaving a sick child.
But then the bills start piling up.
"Sorry, we can't extend the payment deadline," the landlord says coldly.
You find yourself at the welfare office, forms scattered across the desk.
"You're eligible for housing assistance, but there's a 6-month waiting list."
"What about food assistance?"
"You can get food stamps, but they don't cover everything your child needs."
You decide to keep your job, no matter the cost.
"I have to provide for us," you tell yourself, looking at your sleeping child.
You frantically search for last-minute babysitters, paying premium rates you can't afford.
"$20 an hour for emergency care? That's half my daily wage..."
But what choice do you have?
At work, you're constantly on edge, phone clutched in your hand.
Every notification makes your heart race - is it the babysitter? Is something wrong?
Your productivity plummets as anxiety consumes you.
"Your performance has been declining," your supervisor mentions during a meeting.
"We need employees who can focus 100% on their work."
The irony isn't lost on you - you're working to support your child, but the job demands you neglect them.
Your child starts acting out, clinging to you desperately when you leave.
The guilt is suffocating.