The "click" of the car door was wrong.
It wasn't the metallic, slightly-tinny thunk of my dad's old Lada. This was a heavy, dampened, satisfying whoosh.
I sank into the backseat. The seats weren't fabric; they were a cool, smooth, black leather that smelled... rich. The whole car smelled like new leather and a faint, expensive floral air freshener. Up front, Mr. Lee (Min-hyuk) started the car with the press of a button. The dashboard lit up like a starship.
This was a 2015 Hyundai Genesis. The new one. The one with the huge, imposing grille and an interior that looked like a business-class lounge. My host family wasn't just "comfortable." They were rich.
"Aigoo, San-gun, you must be so tired!" Mrs. Lee (Eun-sook) said, twisting around from the passenger seat. She spoke in rapid-fire, cheerful Korean, and I had to focus hard to keep up. "The flight is terrible, isn't it? But we have to go right to the school! It's the first day of the second semester, you know? There's a big ceremony! You'll meet everyone!"
"Ah, ye, Eomeonim," I managed, trying to sound awake. "I'm okay."
"Eun-sook, jagiya," Mr. Lee said, his voice a calm rumble as he navigated the airport traffic. "Let the boy breathe. He just landed."
"Oh, and your uniform!" she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "It's not ready, the tailor needs your measurements. It's okay! We'll tell Ms. Choi. You'll just be... special... for the first week!" She beamed, but her use of "special" sounded slightly ominous.
I nodded, pretending this was all normal, but my attention was already gone. It had been stolen by the view.
We were on a bridge. Not just any bridge. It was a massive, sprawling expanse of steel over a river so wide it looked like a lake. The Han River. On the other side, a forest of skyscrapers pierced the hazy morning sky. The 63 Building, glittering gold. The N Seoul Tower on its mountain. It was... massive. It was the future. It made every picture I'd ever seen look like a cheap postcard.
I was in Seoul. The thought hit me so hard I actually felt light-headed.
A plastic click next to me broke my trance.
Ha-neul had been completely silent, absorbed in her phone. Now she sighed, a sound of pure, teenage annoyance aimed not at me, but at her mother's endless chatter.
"Mom, he looks like he's going to pass out. Be quiet," she said in flat, perfect Korean. She turned to me, her expression unreadable. From her backpack, she pulled a blank, pin-on name tag and a black marker.
"Here," she said. "Write your name. So the teachers don't yell at you."
I took them, my hands feeling clumsy. The marker was cool against my skin. On the white plastic, I carefully wrote my chosen name in Hangul.
산 (San)
I pinned it to my wrinkled shirt. Ha-neul glanced at it.
"Just 'San'?" she asked, one perfect eyebrow raised. "Like... 'mountain'?"
"Yes," I said, my voice coming out a little hoarse. "It's... easy. My real name is long."
She gave a tiny shrug, as if to say, It's your funeral. "It's... simple, I guess." She went back to her phone.
The Genesis was slowing, turning off the wide boulevard onto a quiet, tree-lined street. And then we passed through them.
Wrought-iron gates, bearing a crest I couldn't make out. A long, circular driveway. And a building that made my jaw drop.
It wasn't a school. It was a manor.
It looked like something from 18th-century Europe, all dark brick, ivy-covered walls, and tall, arched windows. A lush front garden, perfectly manicured, led to the entrance. Lining the drive were massive, ancient cherry trees—their leaves a deep green in the September air, but I could imagine what they'd look like in spring.
"We're here! Kirin!" Mrs. Lee announced brightly.
She said it with so much enthusiasm that I imagined dark clouds appearing out of nowhere and whole Kirin being swallowed by lighting of Sasuke's 麒麟.
The car purred to a stop.
"Wow," I breathed, my voice lost in the plush interior. "Daebak."
"Okay, we're going!" Mrs. Lee said, already unbuckling. "We have to go to the main office, then later today we will go shopping! Blankets, toiletries, snacks, everything you need! We'll pick you up after school. Be good! Ha-neul, take care of him!"
"Have a good first day, San-gun," Mr. Lee added with a smile in the rearview mirror.
He offered me a backpack it was full of textbooks and some new notebooks with a pencilcase.
"Ah, ye! Thank you! Kamsahamnida!" I said, bowing awkwardly from the backseat as they got out.
I stumbled out after Ha-neul, pulling my guitar case. The air felt different here. Quieter. More... expensive. I saw other, smaller buildings dotted across the campus.
"Is this... all the school?" I asked, still staring at the main hall.
Ha-neul was already walking, her bag slung over one shoulder. "No. That's the main hall. The music building is back there. The arts center is to the left. The sports hall with gym, courts and pool at the back, and those are the dorms."
"Dorms? People live here?"
"Obviously," she said, not looking back. "Kids whose parents are too busy, or who live far away, like in Busan. It's basically a hotel. Come on."
The black Genesis pulled away, leaving me on the gravel driveway. I stood there for a second, a guy in a wrinkled shirt with a "Mountain" tag pinned to it, holding a guitar case, staring at a building that looked like a set from Winx.
A few students in immaculate dark-blue uniforms were walking past, giving me long, curious stares. I was frozen. Awed. Terrified.
Ha-neul was a few steps ahead. She stopped and turned, and for the first time, her face changed. A tiny, unexpected sound escaped her. A little psh.
She was laughing at me.
"What?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I... it's... wow," I managed.
"You look like a lost puppy," she said, and the smirk became a full, dazzling—if slightly mocking—smile. "Come on, San-ssi. Don't be late on your first day. You'll stick out even more."
She turned and walked toward the giant, carved-oak doors, not checking to see if I was following.
I scrambled to grab my guitar case. "Ah, jam-kkan-man! Wait up!"