“Behold, they are all a delusion; their works are nothing; their metal images are empty wind. Behold my Servant, whom I uphold, My chosen, in whom My soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon Him; He will bring forth justice to the nations.” Isaiah 41:29–42:1

Every week, GaoHan’s stomach knotted with dread as “Film Literature Study” crept onto the school schedule. He’d heard the stories, whispered warnings about what happened to students caught nodding off: harsh punishment, the kind that left marks beyond bruises.

The weekly documentaries glorifying Kim Jong Un’s revolutionary genius were designed to forge unshakeable loyalty. But when you’re watching the same footage, the same praise, the same carefully choreographed triumphs week after week, staying awake becomes its own act of defiance against your own body.

And GaoHan’s body was already losing that battle. Chronic hunger gnawed at his concentration. The classroom air hung thick and acrid, the green wood smoldering in stoves that meant to heat the room were choking the students instead. Keeping his eyes open felt like pushing boulders uphill.

Then, one bitter winter session, the boulders won.

As The Juche Military Parade Demonstrating the Dignity and Majesty of Joseon flickered across the screen, GaoHan and a classmate slipped into sleep. It was an ordinary moment of human exhaustion and it would cost them everything. Both boys were immediately accused of harboring “serious political issues.” Since then, they have been marched onto the “ideological struggle” stage at a nearby youth re-education camp, forced to publicly answer for the crime of falling asleep.

In NK, praising the leader isn’t optional,  it is survival. The Kim family’s cult of worship demands total, visible, unwavering devotion from every citizen. But for the young, the scrutiny cuts deepest. There is no margin for a drooping eyelid, a wandering mind, or an honest moment of fatigue. For GaoHan, exhaustion and hunger, even sleep became a political act.