The Magic Bag

In the scholarly city of Suwon, where ancient academies stood proudly among cherry blossom trees and the sound of students reciting classical texts echoed through the morning air, lived a diligent young scholar named Chang-min. Though he came from a poor farming family, Chang-min had earned his place at the prestigious Confucian academy through his exceptional intelligence and unwavering dedication to learning.

Every day, Chang-min would walk the long path from his tiny rented room to the academy, carrying only a worn cloth bag containing a few sheets of paper, a brush, and his simple lunch—usually just a small portion of rice with pickled vegetables. While his wealthy classmates arrived in fine silk robes with servants carrying their books and elaborate meal boxes, Chang-min wore the same patched hanbok day after day and often went hungry rather than miss his studies.

“Chang-min,” his roommate Jin-woo would say with concern, “you grow thinner each week. Perhaps you should write to your family for more money.”

Chang-min would shake his head with a gentle smile. “My family has already sacrificed everything to send me here. I cannot ask for more when they barely have enough to feed themselves.”

Despite his hardships, Chang-min never complained and always shared what little food he had with classmates who had forgotten their lunches or with the elderly beggars who waited outside the academy gates.

One particularly cold winter morning, as snow fell heavily and the wind cut through Chang-min’s thin clothes like icy knives, he discovered he had no food at all. His last coins had been spent on paper and ink for his studies, and his stomach ached with hunger.

As he walked slowly toward the academy, trying to ignore his weakness, Chang-min noticed an old beggar woman sitting in the snow beside the path. She was shivering violently, her ragged clothes providing no protection against the bitter cold.

“Grandmother,” Chang-min called out, approaching her with concern, “you’ll freeze to death out here. Please, take my outer coat.”

Without hesitation, he removed his only warm garment and wrapped it around the old woman’s shoulders, even though it left him shivering in the frigid air.

The beggar woman looked up at him with eyes that seemed to hold depths of ancient wisdom. “Young scholar, you give me your coat when you yourself are cold. But I see you are also hungry—when did you last eat?”

Chang-min’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I… it has been two days, Grandmother. But please don’t worry about me. You need warmth more than I need food.”

The old woman studied his face carefully, then reached into her tattered bundle and produced a small cloth bag, no larger than Chang-min’s fist. It appeared to be made of ordinary hemp cloth, faded and worn from age.

“Kind young man,” she said softly, “you have shown me compassion when you yourself have nothing. Please accept this small gift—the Mabeop-ui Gabang, the Magic Bag. When you reach into it with a pure heart and genuine need, it will provide whatever food you require.”

Chang-min started to protest. “Grandmother, I cannot take anything from you. You need whatever you have more than I do.”

But the old woman pressed the bag into his hands with surprising strength. “The bag chooses its own master, child. It has been waiting for someone who thinks of others before himself. Use it wisely.”

Before Chang-min could say another word, the old woman seemed to fade away like morning mist, leaving only the small bag in his hands and his warm coat lying folded on the ground where she had been sitting.

Mystified but grateful, Chang-min picked up his coat and continued toward the academy. When he arrived, his stomach was growling so loudly that other students began to stare. Embarrassed, he slipped into the garden behind the main hall and, feeling somewhat foolish, reached into the magic bag.

To his amazement, his hand immediately found a warm bowl of rice, perfectly cooked and topped with seasoned vegetables. As he pulled it out, he discovered chopsticks and a small cup of hot tea as well. The food was delicious—better than anything he had eaten since leaving his family’s farm.

“This is impossible,” Chang-min whispered to himself, but his growling stomach cared nothing for impossibility. He ate gratefully, feeling strength return to his body.

Over the following days, Chang-min experimented cautiously with the magic bag. Each time he reached in with genuine hunger, it provided exactly what he needed—sometimes simple rice and soup, sometimes more elaborate meals with fish or meat. The food was always fresh, warm, and perfectly portioned for his needs.

But Chang-min soon discovered something even more remarkable about the bag. When his friend Jin-woo fell ill and couldn’t keep down regular food, Chang-min reached into the bag thinking of his friend’s need for gentle nourishment. His hand found a bowl of healing rice porridge with ginger and herbs—exactly what Jin-woo’s stomach could handle.

“Chang-min, where did you get such perfect medicine food?” Jin-woo asked weakly as he slowly recovered.

“A… a kind person shared it with me,” Chang-min replied, which was truthful if not complete.

Word spread quickly through the academy about Chang-min’s mysterious ability to provide exactly the right food for any situation. When young Scholar Park couldn’t concentrate due to hunger, Chang-min shared brain-nourishing fish soup. When elderly Master Lee mentioned missing his hometown’s special noodles, Chang-min somehow produced a bowl of exactly that dish.

Soon, a steady stream of hungry students, homesick scholars, and even some of the academy’s servants began approaching Chang-min for help. And remarkably, the magic bag never failed to provide. No matter how many people Chang-min fed, when he reached in with a selfless heart, food appeared.

“Chang-min,” Jin-woo said one evening as they watched their friend distribute yet another meal to a group of hungry students, “there’s something strange about your good fortune. Where does all this food come from?”

Chang-min hesitated, then decided to trust his closest friend with the truth. He told Jin-woo about the mysterious old woman and the magic bag.

Jin-woo listened with growing amazement. “That’s incredible! You could sell this food and become wealthy! Think of what you could do with that money—fine clothes, a comfortable room, books…”

But Chang-min shook his head firmly. “The old woman said to use it wisely. I don’t think ‘wisely’ means using magic to make myself rich while others go hungry.”

“But surely you could use it for your own benefit sometimes,” Jin-woo pressed. “You work harder than anyone here—don’t you deserve some comfort?”

The next day, tempted by Jin-woo’s words, Chang-min decided to test whether the bag would provide luxury foods just for his own pleasure. He reached in thinking of the expensive delicacies he had seen wealthy students enjoy—imported sweets, rare fruits, rich cakes.

But when he pulled his hand out, it was empty.

Puzzled, he tried again, this time thinking of a simple meal to satisfy his genuine hunger. Immediately, his hand found a bowl of nutritious soup and fresh bread.

“The bag knows the difference between need and greed,” Chang-min realized with wonder. “It provides for genuine hunger and care for others, but not for selfish desires.”

This understanding transformed how Chang-min used the magic bag. Instead of seeing it as his personal resource, he began to think of it as a tool for serving his community. He established regular meal times when hungry students could come to him for food. He made sure the academy’s servants, who were often overlooked and underfed, received proper meals. He even carried food to the beggars outside the academy gates.

The magic bag seemed to respond to his generosity by providing even more abundantly. Not only did it supply food, but it began offering other necessities—warm clothes for cold students, medicine for the sick, even books for those who couldn’t afford their own texts.

One day, months after his first encounter with the old woman, Chang-min was approached by the academy’s headmaster, a stern but fair man named Master Kim.

“Scholar Chang-min,” Master Kim said formally, “I have been observing your… unusual generosity. Some say you possess supernatural abilities. What is the source of your endless charity?”

Chang-min bowed respectfully and told the headmaster the entire story. He expected to be expelled or accused of practicing forbidden magic, but Master Kim listened thoughtfully.

“Show me this magic bag,” the headmaster requested.

Chang-min produced the small cloth bag, which looked even more ordinary and worn than when he had first received it. Master Kim examined it carefully, then asked Chang-min to demonstrate its power.

Chang-min reached into the bag, thinking of the headmaster’s needs. His hand found a steaming cup of expensive tea and elegant rice cakes—exactly the kind of refreshment appropriate for honoring a respected teacher.

Master Kim accepted the tea and tasted it thoughtfully. “This is extraordinary, Scholar Chang-min. But tell me—why haven’t you used this power to advance your own position? You could have impressed wealthy patrons, gained powerful connections, ensured your own success.”

“Honored Master,” Chang-min replied humbly, “the bag was given to me because I helped someone in need, not because I sought personal gain. I believe it continues to work because I try to use it the same way—to help others, not to help myself.”

Master Kim nodded slowly. “Your wisdom exceeds your years, young scholar. Such power in the hands of someone who understands its true purpose is indeed a blessing for our community.”

Years passed, and Chang-min completed his studies with highest honors. The magic bag continued to serve the academy community, providing not just food but fostering a spirit of generosity and mutual care among students and teachers alike.

When Chang-min graduated and prepared to leave for his government position, many students worried about what would happen to their source of help and comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Chang-min assured them. “I’ve learned that the real magic isn’t in the bag—it’s in remembering to care for each other. When you see someone in need and share what you have, you’re creating the same kind of magic.”

On his last night at the academy, Chang-min was visited in his dreams by the old beggar woman, who appeared now as a beautiful spirit dressed in robes of starlight.

“You have used my gift well, Chang-min,” she said with a warm smile. “The Magic Bag will remain with you as long as you continue to use it for others’ benefit. But remember—the greatest magic has always been your own compassionate heart.”

Chang-min went on to become a beloved government official, known throughout the land for his fairness and his mysterious ability to always have exactly what people needed in times of crisis. The magic bag accompanied him through decades of service, never failing to provide when genuine need arose.

And wherever Chang-min served, communities became more generous and caring, as people learned from his example that true wealth lies not in what you keep for yourself, but in what you freely share with others.

The Magic Bag still exists today, passed down through generations of those who understand that its power lies not in creating abundance, but in teaching us that when we give from the heart, there is always enough for everyone.