It came as a surprise to no one that Kim Hanbin was elected School Captain of the Private Boys High School, Halmoon. In fact, his classmates, their parents, the teachers and the Principal had expected this to happen from his first day of high school; when the calm, confident, unassumingly handsome Hanbin had strolled in through the ivy-covered gates followed by a flock of boys jostling for his attention.

Nor had it surprised Hanbin himself when his name had been called out at the last assembly of his junior year, triggering an eruption of applause and whistles. When he’d accepted the gold-leaf badge and a firm handshake by Principal Kang, he’d felt a calm satisfaction. Everything was going as planned.

His mother liked to joke that she’d known Hanbin was going to ambitious when he was still in the womb, he was constantly kicking around, impatiently waiting for the freedom to pursue his goals. 

There had never been any doubt he would follow in his father, grandfather and great grandfather’s footsteps and enter the legal profession. However, while studying law at Seoul National University Law School had always felt like a birthright to Hanbin, he knew it was still a somewhat conditional inheritance. The competition was astronomical.

From years of watching older students fight an increasingly ruthless battle for SKY university acceptance letters, Hanbin had learned from a young age that to take his eyes off the prize for even a second could mean missing out. And while he was always pragmatic enough to know that he couldn’t come first every single time, he knew every well there were unimaginably clever students all over Korea, he couldn’t imagine ever giving up his dreams.

So even when Halmoon’s notoriously elite syllabus grew increasingly arduous and difficult, and it became and more and more challenging to manage his extra curriculum activities and cram school, he never lost his sense of purpose and calm. He had a destiny to fulfil and he knew that as long as he kept putting one book in front of the other everything would fall into place.  He just had to be consistent.

By applying this attitude to all areas of his life Hanbin had amassed many talents. He had been playing piano since he was 4 years old but the violin had stolen his heart at 8 years old. He had been a first violin in every youth and school orchestra he had been part of. He had been playing tennis since he was big enough to hold a racket and while he had eventually had to accept he didn’t have the height or physique to become a Halmoon champion, he was a solid player and had many wins while on the school team.

He was Captain of the debate team and with his leadership they had won the coveted Seoul Private School debating Trophy two years in a row. He was also captain of Halmoon’s speech-writing and public speaking team. One of his self-written speeches during Juniour year had won an international award in its category and he had presented it before the South Korean President himself at the award ceremony.

Despite these activities which often took up his weekends, Hanbin never neglected his beloved volunteer activities. He volunteered at soup kitchens, regularly visited elderly Koreans in nursing homes, organised huge raffles and auctions to support South Korean and international social causes, and even gone on a school trip to East Timor where he assisted locals in building houses.

However, being an all-rounder does not necessarily ensure a student’s popularity, even if they do inspire awe in their peers. In fact, at a school as ruthlessly competitive as Halmoon, being so blatantly successful could easily make one a target for harassment and jealousy.

Fortunately for Hanbin, he had possessed the confidence of someone secure enough in their talent, potential and goodness to never be in need of defending or promoting it, thereby removing the possibility of jealousy before it even existed. He had never been a bragger, nor did he expect recognition even if he had become very used to it and would have been confused if he were not to receive it. He rarely spoke about his achievements made well-publicised by the Halmoon Student Newspaper, and was a good conversationalist, being someone naturally very curious about others and their lives. Often when speaking with Hanbin his peers walked away knowing more about themselves than him.

It was this unassuming yet solid self-containment that made Hanbin both likeable and very hard to resent. He easily congratulated others for their successes, was sincere when he wished his classmates good luck for their exams and matches, and he had infinite space in is brain to remember all the names of his two hundred fellow senior classmates, plus many students of the lower grades.

It was this calm, confident perseverance that drew others to him like moths to a flame, and while he never acknowledged his popularity to others, he knew very well that he possessed a likeability he could rely on to smooth his way through life.

 

***

 

For the students and parents of Halmoon, the school was synonymous with connections, outstanding education, opportunities, and tradition.

For the students and parents who were not accepted through Halmoon’s gates, the school was synonymous with elitism, Anglophilia, corruption and boys club.

Halmoon was without doubt objectively different from many High Schools in Seoul. While most schools prided themselves on their modernity, consistent results, accessibility, and fairness, Halmoon prided itself almost entirely on its reputation and exclusivity.

Rather than allowing modernity to strip away the character and history of its sandstone halls, sharp turrets, wood-panelled walls, manicured gardens and glossy green sports fields, Halmoon held itself frozen in an era of time when appearances, social class and connections were just as important as education, if not more so.

Halmoon made a promise to all its students, and their parents, that they would not only provide the most well-rounded education possible for SKY candidates, but that they would prepare them to enter university one step ahead of the game: well-connected and at the top of every respectable social list.

Another differentiating factor for Halmoon was its many glamorous school traditions. Firstly, its sharp black blazer trimmed with scarlet, grey pants, scarlet and black striped tie and flashy golden emblem remained unchanged since the school’s establishment in 1909. Due to this striking colour combination Halmoon students were often referred to by outsiders as “hornets.”

Halmoon also had an annual son-mother ball for each year group. At this event the sons would their mothers to a glittering black-tie affair set in the grand hall to celebrate and thank their mothers for their support in preparing them for university. There was also a vote for the most beautiful mother with the award being presented to her by her own son.

Other traditions Halmoon boasted included the singing of the school anthem on the first and last day of each school semester and at every assembly in between, the famous Halmoon Archives, in which specially selected pieces of students work deemed to be outstanding were kept for posterity, and the administering of a SKY university student mentor to every Junior student for one semester, to encourage him for the upcoming College Scholastic Ability Test (as well as to aid his social life once commencing university).

Having a “School Captain” of the entire school instead of the usual “Class President” of each year group was another longstanding Halmoon tradition. According to Halmoon there was nothing more beneficial than having a single student elected by his peers to represent them all from upon a pedestal of academic success, career ambition, and model school values. After all, wasn’t this what happened in the real world?

The only tradition Halmoon took to bending increasingly often was its unapologetically nepotistic admission process. For many years Halmoon had only enrolled those students who had either been on a waiting list since birth, or who had a family member who had attended previously. These days, however, Halmoon was willing to consider students without prior connections as long as their parents were able to pay the school fees upfront and make occasional gestures of “appreciation,” in the form of regular donations to important school projects.

Over the years Halmoon had acquired a fully functional drama theatre, a set of baseball fields, a two storey gym equipped with all the latest fitness machines, an art gallery, a boatshed on the Han River, a virtual reality studio and a whole new east wing.

When this change had first come about South Korean media had blasted the school’s decision so severely a bill had been presented in parliament to set limits to parent donations and school fees. However, for reasons that remain a mystery, the bill was never enacted despite winning favour of the majority.

Uber wealthy boys continued to appear out of thin air at the beginning of each new year, and shiny Lamborghinis and Ferraris continued to pick them up at the end of each school day.

 

***

 

While some less scrupulous teachers may have nursed private resentments that Hanbin hadn’t sought their special favour throughout his school career, the majority of Halmoon teaching staff had breathed a sigh of relief when he was elected.

Apparently, many teachers whispered amongst themselves, this had been the most peaceful senior year Halmoon had educated in the past ten years. Some teachers were hopeful that Hanbin had shifted the character of the School permanently, which would have been an enormous triumph in itself considering the history of the school’s culture.

Principal Kang was often heard declaring to parents of potential students that “Halmoon is the finest hunting ground for SKY university careers in the country.” Most teachers secretly agreed this was a rather romantic interpretation of the school.

In simple terms a brutal social hierarchy, relentless competition, rampant snobbery and unreasonable parents hadn’t always made Halmoon the most pleasant school to attend. The campaign for School Captain itself, a title that looked very nice on university applications, was one of the biggest sources of bullying every year.

Previous candidates had waged wars of politics and intrigue while the teachers and Principal (intimidated by parents far more wealthy and powerful than themselves) stood by, powerless to intervene and hoping for the best.

By contrast, Hanbin’s ascent to the top of this school’s highly competitive population had been almost effortless, his only rival had been more or less symbolic. Even more bizarre, his influence over his peers had been remarkably benevolent. From day one, Hanbin had never resorted to bullying, intimidation, flaunting his family’s significant wealth and connections, bribing or scheming. It had never crossed his mind to.

Many Halmoon seniors didn’t know why they wanted to be close to Hanbin and if asked all they’d have been able to offer was “He’s just a really good guy.” These were the boys who weren’t in Hanbin’s inner circle of friends, they were his acquaintances, classmates and supporters, people whom Hanbin would smile and nod at when passing by in the impressive hallways of Halmoon, or have a brief chat with in between study sessions and tennis training.

A sub-set of this group were the students who thought themselves barely worthy of his company, sitting at the bottom of the school pecking order, a social constellation which Hanbin orbited oblivious and unscathed. They resigned themselves to admiring him from afar and turning pale when he gave them a friendly nod.

Some Halmooners wanted to be his friend because their parents told them to do so. That young man is exceptional, you need to be friends with him, get rid of those friends who drink too much, who crash their father’s cars, throw luxurious parties in their mother’s holiday houses, and don’t study enough. Be like him. These were the boys who threw themselves at Hanbin but failed to win him over. There was something about their inauthentic bravado that would have made anyone uncomfortable, let alone someone as canny as Hanbin. Nonetheless, he never ostracised anyone, even if he did have to regularly turn down invitations to luxurious weekends away on yachts and ski trips to Japan.

Then there were some Halmooners who wanted to be his friend because they lusted after what he represented: popularity and success. They hoped that by following his lead some of his exceptional qualities might rub off onto them, and unfortunately this led to some quite fanatical behaviours, earning this group of students the nickname, “the Hanbinners.”

When Hanbin had been a freshman he’d started wearing Tom Ford black brogues to school to appease a particular Uncle who’d given them to him for his birthday, instead of the usual black oxfords. Within a week anyone not wearing black brogues was considered a fashion criminal.

In his Sophomore year during he’d accidentally left his scarlet Halmoon scarf at home and his mother had forced him to wear her Burberry black checkered scarf before letting him out of the car. Overnight the Burberry stores in Seoul ran out of black checkered scarves and the Halmoon school assembly gathered the next day was full of them, an army of Burberry devotees. 

In his junior year when he’d grown his hair long after watching Wong Kar-Wai’s Fallen Angels, the rest of his year followed suit. That said, this was a trend that had understandably taken a longer period of time for his peers to mimic. But unfortunately, for the staff who were in charge of maintaining the school’s aesthetic (neat, trimmed, short, natural hair) it lasted far longer than desired.

It was these same Hanbinners who stood by now, at the beginning of their senior year, waiting patiently for Hanbin to set his final trend, so they could follow him one final time.

And finally, there were a select few students, only four, who were his best, closest friends, simply because they liked him for exactly who he was, inside school and outside, and were luckily enough that Hanbin, for reasons of his own, felt the same way about them.

 

***

 

Firstly, there was Song Yunhyeong, whose parents owned a hospitality empire that ranged from a fried chicken chain popular throughout Korea to a series of Michelin star restaurants that served avant-garde Korean dishes in exquisite buildings with waiting lists up to a year-long. He was a good fit for Halmoon’s Vice Captain having three valuable assets: an amiability that allowed him to become friends with anyone within sixty seconds of meeting them, a knack for buttering up even the sternest of teachers, and a prince-like handsomeness that made others want to be associated with him.

That said, Hanbin didn’t see Yunhyeong as a collection of assets. All he knew was that Yunhyeong was one of the most demonstratively loyal and generous friends he’d ever had. Yunhyeong was the type of guy who’d do anything for someone he loved, whether they needed it or not. He was excellent at comforting those feeling down and was unintentionally hilarious on a daily basis. His quirks and silliness had gotten their group through some challenging high school moments.

Hanbin also knew that despite Yunhyeong’s popularity and religious adherence to the latest fashions and trends, he was actually an old man at heart, something he found equally irritating and endearing. While Yunhyeong was known to bicker with the other four of their inner circle he never disagreed with Hanbin and was his most consistent ‘Yes-Man.’

The only exceptions were when Yunhyeong felt Hanbin was putting himself at a disadvantage or was taking on too much work. Then all hell broke loose and Hanbin was followed around school all day by a nagging, worrying grandpa. He was never going to let Yunhyeong forget that time during their freshman year when Hanbin had defied his orders and played a tennis match outdoors late November, resulting in catching a cold. Yunhyeong hadn’t spoken to Hanbin for three whole hours when he’d returned to school after a day off. It had meant to be three whole days but Yunhyeong couldn’t stay mad that long and he liked talking too much.

Secondly in Hanbin’s select circle there was Jung Chanwoo, who along with Yunhyeong was considered a top visual of the school. His tall, well-proportioned frame, straight nose and aloof manner made him intimidating to many students who assumed he must be the type to look down on those less fortunate than himself in the looks department. Packs of girls from the Private school around the corner were known to wait for him to leave the school grounds and follow him for hours while he strode through malls, shopped at boutiques, bought coffees, and even crossed busy roads without once looking up from his phone and registering their existence.

What Hanbin knew of Chanwoo was that he wasn’t aloof or arrogant at all. He was the shyest most socially awkward dude he’d possibly ever met and he knew he would die before taking a subject that required public speaking. For this reason, Chanwoo had stuck mostly to the STEM subjects. Hanbin had been trying to convince him for years to join the debate team because he also happened to be one of the most effortlessly intelligent guys he’d met. Of all his friends it was Chanwoo with whom he enjoyed intellectual debates and discussions the most because he could play devil’s advocate relentlessly for hours and Hanbin loved the challenge. However, Chanwoo wasn’t a fan of doing anymore school work than he had to and he’d never taken the bait.

Chanwoo wasn’t a fan of opening up in front of others, but when with his closest friends he was expert at delivering a retort or comment at just the right moment, and for that reason was considered the most savage amongst them. Sometimes his sharp tongue got away from him and Hanbin would have to go into repair mode, soothing whoever’s feelings had just been temporarily annihilated by Chanwoo’s razor sharp wit.

But what fascinated Hanbin the most about Chanwoo was that he didn’t seem to need to study as much as any of them to get good marks. Hanbin knew for a fact that he spent equal parts gaming as studying, and that he was only accepting the responsibility to take on his Shipping Magnate father’s business so he’d be able to invest in his favourite software company without anyone to stop him. And if Chanwoo wasn’t gaming he was playing chess, another talent that Hanbin was convinced made him a covert genius. As chess captain of Halmoon’s chess society, Chanwoo was known for destroying opponents in as little as five moves. The only annoying thing was that whenever Hanbin asked him how he did it Chanwoo would shrug and say “I dunno. Let’s go get food.”

Thirdly, there was Kim Donghyuk, Hanbin’s oldest friend. They had known each other since Primary School and Hanbin couldn’t imagine life without him. Whenever he thought of Donghyuk he felt a calm nostalgia spread from head to toe. Donghyuk came from a long line of Surgeons and medical specialists. His father was a heart surgeon and his mother was a neurologist and everyone agreed he was made of the exact same substance with his analytical, exacting mind, unwavering focus and lightning fast working memory.

He was an extremely hard-worker, so much so that Hanbin, who was an excellent studier himself, looked up to him. For years now they had been study buddies, preparing with each other through thick and thin, rain and shine, for exams and tests. They had spent literally hundreds of hours together in libraries, at each other’s houses, and at Hagwon’s after school. Donghyuk was also a brilliant pianist and was always Hanbin’s first pick when it came to accompanists for his violin performances. They also had a tradition where every year they would play each other a favourite piece for their birthday. He was also famous for his dance skills, having performed frequently in Halmoon performances and musicals.

But more than any of that, what Hanbin loved about Donghyuk was his kindness and humility. He never had a bad word to say about anyone, and made it his life rule to stay above drama. Hanbin knew for a fact that Donghyuk had never spoken badly about someone behind their back, nor had he ever shared a secret told to him in confidence. The rest of the grade agreed and that was why Donghyuk had been voted Captain of Halmoon’s Human Justice and Charity League.

It was more often than not Donghyuk who Hanbin called for advice, a voice of reason, or a companion to help bounce ideas off (as long as Yunhyeong hadn’t managed to read his mind and called him first). It was Donghyuk who Hanbin knew he would be friends with forever, simply because at this stage they were pretty much family.

And last but not least, there was Kim Jinhwan who came from a family of real estate giants. His family owned huge shopping centres and luxury goods shops all over South Korea, and had more recently branched out into developing luxurious holiday retreats in the most beautiful parts of South Korea and Asia.

Jinhwan was small, handsome, feisty and the most successful (albeit infamous) amongst them when it came to socialising with the opposite .

He and Yunhyeong had always been partners in crime when it came to finding opportunities to cross paths with the beautiful girls of their sister school. However, in the middle of senior year Yunhyeong had decided to stop dating. He claimed it was because he needed to focus on his studies.  Jinhwan claimed it was because Yunhyeong enjoyed tormenting the girls with his “unavailability.” And when Hanbin noticed Yunhyeong creating a beautiful vision for some onlooking girls one afternoon, leaning against the school gates gracefully, waiting for his chauffeur, forehead furrowed in brooding concentration, nose buried in a book that was upside down, Hanbin had conceded with amusement this was quite likely the case.

 While Yunhyeong was a monogamist at heart, waiting for his dream Princess, Jinhwan was a Casanova, more interested in the chase than the actual prizes he accumulated. 

Jinhwan was always messaging a girl, a different one every week, but somehow he’d avoided earning the reputation of a fuccboi (even though they all had to accept he basically was). He was so adorable with his glossy parted hair and love-heart mole that he always managed to charm his way out of confrontations and accusations with ease. He had about five exes from within the last four years and somehow had managed to stay friends with all of them.

Due to his way with women he was known as the grade’s love guru, able to help even the most awkward of his classmates endear themselves to the girl of their dreams. He was also excellent at keeping his finger on the pulse of school gossip. It seemed to Hanbin and the others that Jinhwan knew every single student from every single school in Seoul. Walking past a bunch of girls they’d never seen before he’d delicately remove his lips from his boba tea straw and without missing a beat inform them “that was so and so’s girlfriend, but she broke up with him and got with his younger brother.”

And it wasn’t just girls, he had a way with their female teachers too. More often than not Jinhwan would be the first to arrive to class, boldly leaning against his teacher’s desk chatting with her about something that seemed to make her laugh a lot. Then the bell would ring and he would return to his own desk, proudly running a delicate hand through his shiny hair.

But what Hanbin loved about Jinhwan wasn’t this confidence and romantic skill, it was the sensitivity that lay beneath it. Although Jinhwan could be moody, particularly if his latest love adventure wasn’t going according to plan, it was his depth of emotion that Hanbin enjoyed. Jinhwan felt things strongly and often just hearing about these big emotions reminded Hanbin to live life fully and without hesitation.

It was this sensitivity that made Jinhwan a fantastic actor and performer. Along with Donghyuk he was always darting off to drama or musical theatre rehearsals, improv classes and private singing lessons. Every year Hanbin and the others sat through spectacular musicals in which Jinhwan was more often or not the star of the show.

On top of that, it was Jinhwan who would often say just the thing Hanbin needed when he needed it. Whether that was a word of encouragement, a blunt warning, or a sharp reminder, Hanbin could always trust Jinhwan’s authenticity. His intuition was strong and Hanbin respected it. In a strange way he’d had more life experiences than the rest of them.

Throughout his childhood and teen years he had travelled extensively with his parents who were connoisseurs of the arts. He knew all about different cultures having studied at many prestigious schools overseas, and had a passion for languages. He was now fluent in Japanese, Tagalog, Chinese and French. And while this travelling had made him the fascinating elegant guy he was, it was also the source of a great deal of disappointment in his family life.  

They all knew that his parent’s marriage was tumultuous. Rather than fixing it or ending it, his parents addressed their forever splintering relationship by moving to a new country every time a new crisis emerged. The only reason Jinhwan had managed to stay at Halmoon for as long as he had (3 whole years) was because he’d threatened to divorce from them if they didn’t let him remain at Halmoon as a boarder. Even though he was happier than he’d been in years, he would still descend into a funk every few months and they knew better to ask now what was wrong. It was always his parents.

 Of all of them Jinhwan seemed to have felt more in life so far. And it was something he, often regrettably, liked to remind them of all often. That and that he was the oldest.

With these four friends by his side Hanbin knew he was very lucky and although school was going to be over in less than a year’s time, he knew that they had a bond that would last a lot longer.

 

***

 

“Are you nervous?”

“About what?” Hanbin replied without taking his eyes from his equations study notes.

“About The Project?” his classmate pushed. “We’re getting our topics today.”

“No. I don’t see anything to be nervous about,” Hanbin looked up and smiled, “I’m looking forward to getting started.”

There were only six seniors doing Social Studies at Halmoon this year, including Hanbin. None of those were Hanbin’s close friends. “I’d rather neck myself than do social studies” had been Jinhwan’s position on the subject.

The reason for such small numbers was because like Art, Biology, Drama, History Extension, Creative Writing and Music, Social Studies involved a “Major Project.”

Most Halmoon subjects involved only internal exams that needed to be passed to graduate from Halmoon, and content to prepare students to pass the notorious College Scholastic Ability Test in November, otherwise known as the Suneung.

But Halmoon subjects involving a Major Project involved internal exams which had to be passed to graduate from Halmoon, an extensive research or creative project that was to be handed in at the end of the year, and  CSAT social studies test that would require them to reflect upon the research conducted for their major project.

At first Hanbin had been planning to drop Social Studies as he was already doing Korean, Korean History and culture, English, Hanja, Geography, Literature Studies, Mathematics and Modern History. But when his mother’s friend, who had connections with a University Admissions specialist, had shared that Major Projects made students stand out on college applications due to their arduous nature and university level thinking skills, he had changed his mind. It had taken a while to make his parents come around to the idea, but eventually they agreed. They had no choice, Hanbin had always been strong-minded and, so far, his judgement had never been wrong.

Social Studies had always been a relatively easy subject for Hanbin, he’d ranked first in it three years in a row. However, The Project was notoriously gruelling due to the original research, length and depth it required. Typically, only exceptional students, or those who considered themselves exceptional, dared take it on. And to do so required an interview with the social studies head teacher to approve their enrolment, which of course Hanbin had passed at the end of the last year with flying colours.

He knew it was going to be hard work, having an ongoing 10,000 word thesis to plan, research and write whilst also studying his other eight subjects, but he knew it was going to be worth it. After all, with such incredible competition to get into the best universities, one had to differentiate themselves somehow. And even though his grade average, school captaincy and list of extra-curricular activities were impressive, he knew there would be at least 100 other SKY candidates with exactly the same. He couldn’t just be brilliant, he had to be original.

And deep down, Hanbin knew he would crush it. What was a little bit more hard work to secure his place at Seoul National University School of Law? When it came to achieving his dreams he had to be indefatigable.

 

***

 

Hanbin watched onwards in amusement as his classmates bantered and freaked each other out over The Project they were about to receive. They tried to draw him in, but he just laughed them off

When they heard the soft clacking of heels approaching their classroom, the boys flew apart and stood beside their desks in Halmoon fashion. Hanbin followed suit just as their Social Studies teacher, Ms. Dan strode into the room.

It wasn’t entirely clear how one could possibly be so serene yet intimidating at the same time, but that was exactly the aura Ms. Dan managed to cultivate. Nothing fazed her. There was no retort she didn’t have the perfect comeback for. No flailing student she couldn’t raise from a C to an A. No question she couldn’t answer. No classroom debate she couldn’t resolve.

She could silence the room with a look simply because at some point, seemingly without trying very hard at all, she’d managed to convince her class that her opinion was priceless. She was hard to please, and yet, when she gave compliments it was impossible for even the most pretentious boy not to blush with pride.

She was in her early thirties and her career as a teacher was already off to a brilliant start. Teachers and students alike mentioned her with reverence tinged with intimidation.

 She was neither beautiful, nor unattractive, tall nor short, boring nor striking, glamorous nor frumpy. And this worked for her just fine because it made the quality of her teaching all the more outstanding.

Another quality any Halmoon teacher had to possess to even be considered for employment, was a wealth of connections. To specialists, to university lecturers, to admissions specialists, to enrolment officers, to scholarship assessors. Ms. Dan must have been a professional social climber before she became a teacher because she knew someone in every reputable industry and university in the country. And for that reason Hanbin trusted Ms. Dan with his Seoul National University Law School dreams entirely. The only other person he trusted just as much was himself.

“Good morning Class,” Ms. Dan drawled in her usual ironic tone.

“Good morning Sunsengnim.”

“Take a seat boys, it’s time to get started,” She smirked, knowing full well her students were dying to receive their fates, wondering whether they were insane or not for taking on this subject in the same year as the most important exams of their lives.

She held a plain black folder delicately front of her chest like it was a sheet of glass.

“Inside this folder is the list of topics from the Board of Education. Each of you have received a mandated village, town or city upon which you will conduct research and prepare a thesis exploring the predominant social and economic issues you find there. As we all know, these locations are allotted randomly by the board to all students doing Social Studies throughout Korea.”

There was a long anticipatory silence until a student spoke.

“Have you read the list Miss?”

“I haven’t, that wouldn’t be fair would it? Of course, I waited to share it with my beloved students,” Ms. Dan demurred saracastically, her eyes briefly meeting Hanbin’s. “Well, are we ready?”

She grinned as the cluster of boys before her began to protest the delay, Hanbin included. He was also getting agitated now.

“Alright here we go….” She took out a paper, stamped with Board of Education insignia, and held it before her.

“Heejun….” She announced. Heejun jolted in his chair and they all held their breath, waiting to hear what his fate would be. “Jung District, Ulsan.”

There were sounds of surprise and appreciation. Heejun looked pleased and Hanbin smiled along, knowing that he was probably exploding inside with relief. Ulsan was a huge industrial city with many complex economic and social issues that would make for a spectacular Social Studies thesis.

“Sungho….Gangnam, Seoul.”

There were more appreciative sounds and Sungho looked leapt from his seat looking thrilled. Hanbin felt his chest drop with disappointment. He had personally been hoping to be designated Gangnam. With its huge retail industries and social issues it too would have made for a rich thesis.

“Jihoon….Icheon, Gyeonggi.”

Hanbin shut out the following sounds, he’d never wanted Icheon in the first place. He was still hoping for something impressive like Gwanghwamum or Yeouido in Seoul…his eyes glazed over as images of a glorious future passed through his mind: receiving the award for best thesis, shaking hands with the Minister of Education, adding the certificate to his university admissions portfolio, outlining his key findings in the Seoul National University Admissions interview…

“Hanbin….”

Hanbin froze and so did the rest of the class as they waited to hear what their exceptional school Captain would receive. Hanbin fought to remain impassive against the tension in the room and the weight of his classmate’s glances.

Ms. Dan paused and stared at the paper in front of her. Her brow furrowed and she looked as if confused but trying to hide it.

Hanbin’s heart sank with a cold rush. She glanced up at him and back down, a strange look on her face.

“This can’t be right…” she muttered, her cheeks turning pink. Hanbin felt the energy shift in the classroom from excitement to shock. He remained stoic, it couldn’t be that bad, surely?

“Hanbin…you’ve been designated Joollajong-ri, Chungnam.”

Hanbin felt his stomach flip at the unfamiliar name as if he’d just gulped a mouthful of unexpectedly sour milk.

While the Board of Education of South Korea was held to standards of fairness and equality by the government, there had always been unshakeable rumours of corruption. These rumours were talked down endlessly at Halmoon and the concept of “good luck” was strongly endorsed. Because for the last five years since their Social Studies subject had involved a Major Project, Halmoon students, and other prestigious private school students, had consistently received exciting, industrially, socially and economically rich locations for their theses. Public and less well to do schools had been complaining for years about their “bad luck” in receiving not such suitable towns. But so far, the board had done little to remedy the situation.

“Joollajong-ri, where is that?” Hanbin asked. Ms. Dan had broken a Halmoon protocol for teachers and was now searching it up on her phone. “And what is it?”

“It seems to be a small village...” Ms. Dan muttered as she read.

Hanbin heard the other boys talk under their breath behind and around him.

“Have you heard of it?”

“Where the hell is that…?”

“What is its main industry? Or economic or social issue?” Hanbin inquired, hoping his voice didn’t betray too much of his concern.  

“I can’t tell,” Ms. Dan replied in what sounded like irritable disbelief. She placed her phone behind her and gave him a heavy knowing look, “Hanbin, we’ll talk after class. We’ll sort this out.”

As Ms. Dan continued to read out the remaining topics and went over the course structure, Hanbin’s concentration faded out.

Something weird was happening for him. He had just received an unexpectedly anti-climactic topic for a ten thousand word thesis that he was counting on to get him into the university of his dreams. A village he’d never even heard the name of? That had no obvious industries, economic concerns or social issues? How the hell was he going to write 10, 000 words about such a stupid place? The towns picked were meant to be of interest.

A horrible heavy feeling over had come over him, an unpleasant feeling of resentment, victimisation and disappointment. What was this feeling? He’d never had it before and he wanted it to stop immediately…

He almost sighed aloud when the thought came to him. Was this feeling bad luck?

He’d never experienced it before, but he’d heard about it happening to others. It sounded terrible, unexpected things not going according to plan for stupid, senseless, uncontrollable reasons. He’d always felt sorry for those students who he’d heard had experienced it, although they weren’t very common at Halmoon. He’d heard that bad luck was more common at Public Schools but he’d never been interested enough to find out.  

Was that what was happening to him right now? Had he just become a victim of bad luck?

He stared down at the empty notepad in front of him that would have usually been full of notes and grit his teeth.

It was going to be ok, he was doing to speak to Ms. Dan after class, they were going to work something out. He wasn’t going to accept bad luck coming in between him and his university career, not today.

 

***

 

“I don’t understand what’s happened,” Ms. Dan muttered as she stared at her phone. She was sitting at her desk reading more information about Hanbin’s mysterious town. The classroom was empty now and Hanbin stood in front of her feeling useless and frustrated. He wanted to take her phone from her and get some answers himself.

“Is it a mistake?” Hanbin asked, hopefully.

“No, it’s not a mistake, the Social Studies team have taken a year to put this Syllabus together, they know exactly what they’re doing.”

“I can apply to have my topic change, right?”

“No, that is strictly not allowed, that’s the problem. The Department has never permitted it. The idea is that the random designation makes things fair,” Ms. Dan scoffed.

“Miss, what am I going to do if this town is….” Hanbin didn’t even have the words for what a pain in the this whole situation could be. “Should I drop the subject?”

“No,” Ms Dan snapped. “Don’t you dare.”

Hanbin flinched. She looked up at him softly and gave him a long soothing smile, as if to make up for the previous tone.

“Hanbin,” she sighed, “don’t you know I’ll never let anything get in the way of you reaching your dreams? You’re our School Captain for a reason, you deserve the best.”

“Thank you, Miss,” Hanbin bowed.

“You’re welcome,” she gave him a wink that set his heart thudding.

It wasn’t so much that Hanbin was attracted to Ms, Dan, although being a teenage boy he was pretty much attracted to everyone and had been since he was 13, as he was conscious that maybe she was attracted to him. It felt so scandalous to consider that maybe this was the reason for her special treatment that he usually had to suppress it.

“I don’t want you to worry Hanbin, I’m going to speak to someone I know who works in the department. I’m going to find out what we can do because we both know this is not acceptable. You deserve better.”

“Thank you Miss. I appreciate it. Do I still start researching this weekend as planned?”

“Yes, I guess so. It will look better for our case that this stupid little village is unacceptable if you’ve actually been there to suss it out. Take lots of notes ok?”

“I’ll go this Saturday.”

“Good luck,” she grimaced. “I’ve always hated the countryside.”