The Golden Apple

In a peaceful farming village nestled between gentle hills and rice paddies that reflected the changing sky like mirrors, lived three siblings who could not have been more different from one another. The eldest was Jae-hyun, ambitious and always dreaming of wealth and status. The middle child was Mi-young, beautiful and vain, constantly concerned with her appearance and the admiration of others. The youngest was Sung-min, quiet and thoughtful, who found joy in simple things and cared deeply about helping others.

Their parents had passed away years earlier, leaving the siblings to manage the family farm together. Though they worked the same land and shared the same humble home, their different personalities often led to conflicts about priorities and goals.

“If only we could afford better clothes and a grander house,” Jae-hyun would say as he counted their modest harvest earnings. “I’m tired of being seen as just another poor farmer.”

“If only I had silk dresses and jade jewelry,” Mi-young would sigh as she gazed at her reflection in the well water. “How can I find a wealthy husband when I look like a common peasant?”

But Sung-min would shake his head at his siblings’ complaints. “We have food to eat, a roof over our heads, and each other’s company. Isn’t that enough for happiness?”

One autumn morning, while the three siblings were working together to harvest the last of their persimmons, they discovered something extraordinary growing on the oldest tree in their orchard. Where there should have been an ordinary persimmon hung a single apple that gleamed like pure gold, seeming to emit its own warm, magical light.

“What is that?” Mi-young gasped, dropping her basket in amazement.

As they stared at the mysterious fruit, an ancient voice spoke from the tree itself: “I am the spirit of this orchard, and you have tended my trees with care for many years. In gratitude, I offer you the Hwanggeum Sagwa—the Golden Apple. This magical fruit will grant one wish to whoever eats it, but choose carefully, for it can only be used once, and the wish cannot be undone.”

The three siblings looked at each other with excitement and growing tension. One apple, one wish, three very different dreams.

“I should have the apple,” Jae-hyun declared immediately. “As the eldest, I’m responsible for our family’s welfare. I would wish for great wealth so we could all live comfortably.”

“That’s not fair!” Mi-young protested. “I should get the apple! I would wish for extraordinary beauty that would attract a rich husband who could support all of us.”

Sung-min remained quiet, but the tree spirit seemed to hear his thoughts. “And you, youngest child? What would you wish for?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Sung-min admitted honestly. “Such power seems too important to use without careful consideration.”

The spirit chuckled warmly. “Wisdom beyond your years. Very well, children, you have three days to decide who will receive the golden apple. But during these three days, each of you will experience what life would be like if your wish were granted. Only then can you make an informed choice.”

That night, Jae-hyun went to sleep thinking about wealth and status. In his dreams, he found himself living in a magnificent mansion, wearing fine silk robes, and commanding dozens of servants. He had gold beyond measure, but gradually realized that his newfound wealth had changed him. Friends approached him only for money, relatives constantly asked for loans, and he spent his days worrying about thieves, investments, and maintaining his fortune. Most painfully, he discovered that his siblings no longer felt comfortable around him, feeling like they had to bow and scrape rather than speak freely as family.

Mi-young’s dream showed her as the most beautiful woman in Korea, with skin like porcelain and features so perfect that men would travel from distant provinces just to glimpse her face. But in the dream, she realized that no one saw her as a person—only as an object of desire. Men competed to possess her but showed no interest in her thoughts, feelings, or dreams. She felt isolated and lonely, surrounded by admirers who knew nothing about who she really was.

Sung-min’s dreams were different. Instead of showing him getting what he might wish for, they showed him the lives of people in his village—the elderly widow who struggled to maintain her small garden, the young mother whose children went hungry when crops failed, the disabled veteran who had no way to support himself. In his dream, Sung-min felt their pain as if it were his own and experienced an overwhelming desire to help ease their suffering.

The next morning, the three siblings shared their dream experiences with each other.

“My dream of wealth felt wonderful at first,” Jae-hyun admitted reluctantly, “but then it became a burden. I was so busy protecting and managing my riches that I forgot what made life meaningful.”

Mi-young nodded slowly. “Perfect beauty seemed like everything I wanted, but in the dream, it made me feel more lonely than ever. People saw my appearance but ignored my heart and mind.”

“What about your dream, little brother?” Jae-hyun asked Sung-min.

“I dreamed about the struggles of others in our village,” Sung-min replied thoughtfully. “It made me wonder if the most important wishes are not about getting something for ourselves, but about giving something to others.”

On the second night, their dreams continued. Jae-hyun saw how his wealth, if used selfishly, would eventually corrupt his character and isolate him from genuine relationships. Mi-young witnessed how her beauty, without substance behind it, would fade with time, leaving her with nothing lasting or meaningful. And Sung-min dreamed again of the various ways he could use the golden apple’s power to help his community.

By the third morning, all three siblings had reached the same conclusion.

“I don’t want the apple,” Jae-hyun said quietly. “I realize now that true wealth isn’t about having gold—it’s about having people who love you for who you are.”

“Neither do I,” Mi-young agreed. “Real beauty comes from kindness and wisdom, not from perfect features. I’d rather be loved for my character than admired for my appearance.”

They both turned to Sung-min expectantly, but their youngest brother was deep in thought.

“I’m grateful that you both trust me with this choice,” Sung-min said slowly, “but I’m not sure I should have the apple either. The power to grant any wish is too great for one person to use alone.”

When they returned to the tree to share their decision with the spirit, they found the golden apple glowing more brightly than ever.

“We’ve decided,” Jae-hyun announced, “that Sung-min should have the apple, since his heart is the purest among us.”

But Sung-min shook his head. “Honored spirit, I have a different proposal. Instead of one of us using the apple for a single large wish, could its power be divided into many small wishes that could help many people?”

The tree spirit was silent for a long moment, then began to laugh with joy. “In all my centuries of offering golden apples to mortals, you are the first to suggest sharing its power rather than claiming it. Your wisdom and generosity have transformed the magic itself.”

Before their eyes, the single golden apple began to multiply, becoming dozens of smaller golden fruits that sparkled like stars.

“Each of these apples,” the spirit explained, “carries enough magic to fulfill one modest but meaningful wish. Use them to help those in need, and you will discover that shared magic is more powerful than any individual desire.”

Over the following months, the three siblings used the magical apples to help their community in countless ways. They wished for healing for the sick, food for the hungry, shelter for the homeless, and hope for the despairing. Each small act of magic created ripple effects that spread throughout the village, bringing people together and creating a stronger, more caring community.

Jae-hyun discovered that helping others brought him a satisfaction that no amount of personal wealth could match. Mi-young found that when she focused on being kind and helpful, people were drawn to her inner beauty and wanted to know her as a friend. And Sung-min learned that the greatest joy comes not from having his own wishes granted, but from helping others achieve their dreams.

Years later, when visitors asked about the secret of their village’s happiness and prosperity, the three siblings would always tell the story of the golden apple.

“We learned,” they would explain, “that the most powerful wishes are not about getting what we want for ourselves, but about giving what others need. When you use magic—or any gift—to help others, it multiplies and comes back to you in ways you never expected.”

The tree spirit, delighted by the siblings’ wisdom, blessed their orchard so that it would always produce abundant fruit to share with those in need. And though no more golden apples ever grew on the trees, the village became known throughout Korea as a place where the magic of generosity and community spirit created wonders greater than any supernatural fruit could provide.

The true golden apple, they discovered, was the choice to value others’ happiness as much as their own—a choice that anyone could make, without magic, but with results more miraculous than any wish could create.