4.

"Here we are!" Ravee announced, her voice barely rising above the rhythmic hum of the taxi weaving through the relentless, neon-drenched pulse of Seoul.

From her seat, Lisa pressed her forehead against the cool glass, watching the sprawling metropolis blur past.

It was a dizzying kaleidoscope of glass skyscrapers and ancient tile-roofed temples—a city that would soon become the backdrop of her life.

Beside her, Jett sat in a quiet trance, his hand firmly interlaced with his daughter’s, as if he were trying to anchor her to the present moment for just a few seconds longer. Up front, Gunther scouted the horizon like a navigator, his gaze fixed on the looming silhouettes of the University of Seoul campus.

Forty minutes of traffic later, the taxi lurched to a halt before the university’s colossal iron gates. As Jett settled the fare and the others hauled suitcases onto the pavement, the family stood in a collective silence, dwarfed by the sheer scale of the entrance.

"This is it," Jett said, his hands resting heavily on Lisa’s shoulders. He searched her eyes, a question hanging in the air. "Ready?"

"Ready," Lisa whispered.

The campus was a hive of activity.

Families were everywhere—a mosaic of anxious parents and eager students, all navigating the labyrinthine paths. Lisa clung to Gunther’s arm as he took charge, navigating the crowd with ease until they found a tall young man in a leather jacket who looked like he knew every inch of the grounds.

"Excuse me," Gunther asked, "we’re looking for Spring Dormitory."

The man offered a bright, disarming grin. "You’re in the right place. And who is the lucky student?"

Lisa stepped forward, shielding her nerves with a polite smile. "Lisa. Lisa Manoban."

"Nice to meet you, Lisa. I'm Jungho," he said, gesturing with a confident sweep of his hand.

"Head straight until you hit the football pitch, then take a sharp left. You’ll see the registration office tucked right behind it."

After exchanging grateful goodbyes, the Manoban family followed his directions, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and displacement. At the registration desk, a brisk administrator verified Lisa’s digital keys with a few rhythmic taps on her keyboard.

"Apartment 205, Room 5," she said, sliding the keycards over the counter.

When Lisa opened the door to her new apartment, she felt her breath catch.

It was a sanctuary of quiet design—a spacious living room dressed in soft, neutral tones, with plush couches and shelves waiting to be filled. The kitchen was open-concept, dappled with sunlight and a few vibrant green plants that gave the space a lived-in warmth.

"It’s wonderful, Lisa," Ravee said, trailing behind her. "Let’s see your room."

Her bedroom was even better.

It was an airy, private nook designed for both study and dreams. A massive window above her oak desk framed the sky, and a door at the end of the walkway opened onto a private balcony.

Stepping out, Lisa was struck by the sight: a serene lake reflecting the hills, framed by the distant, bustling skyline of Seoul.

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