In the summer of 2004 I left home and entered a university in Seoul. I turned twenty-one that year.

The mild weather wrapped its dense heat around my exposed arms, neck, and face like a second skin. All around us pink camellias, blushing azaleas, and flushed cherry blossoms bloomed into their prime. I stood on the small porch of the family house with my father, cocking my ears to listen to the faint clicking of cicadas and grasshoppers. I wondered if I could possibly drown out what my father was about to say if only I concentrated on the whistling of the warm zephyr winds.

"Who is going to help me around the house now?" my father grumbled when he spoke of my leaving. The amount of times this phrase escaped his lips were innumerable that often my mom would cut him off mid-sentence. He handed me a thin sheet of yellowed paper scrawled with addresses and my letter of acceptance along with a dormitory identification card. He wasn't happy I was setting off, as was evident in his words, but no fragment in tone nor action affirmed he would lie wistful once I was gone. 

Within two weeks I found myself clinging onto frayed and threadbare bus seats then onto a train littered with black and grey ink printed on lanky paper, headlined "ROH MOO HYUN SUSPENDED PARLIAMENT VOTES TO IMPEACH". My eyes wandered out the crystal-clear windows and took in the transforming landscape as it evolved from small houses to lush green plains, hills to heightening office buildings.

Darkness already reigned the skies by the time I arrived. The air wasn't as balmy as Boseong but what should've I expected when heading north? The unfamiliar streets carried along a vague scent of overly-ripe mandarin oranges and gas emission pipes. Walking along the unacquainted roads, I stopped and asked around for directions twice before being able to locate my lodgings.

The dormitory lobby was packed, even at such a late time, with both new and returning students waiting to be admitted. There were a few potted pleomeles scattered around the room. To my right was a tiny elevator and staircase leading up. Hallways stretched the whole length of the building, illuminated by fluorescent lights. Oddly, it reminded me of a small hospital back home.

"May I see your dormitory ID card?" the lady at the front desk asked me as I approached. Her hair was long, black, and fringe combed back to reveal a broad forehead. There was an aura of sophistication about her that one couldn't quite lay a finger on, other than it suggested she shouldn't be working at a place so lowly as she was.

I eased the backpack I was carrying off and rummaged around the front pockets for the card. As I gave it to her, she flipped through a few sheets of paper firmly tucked beneath the metal claw of a clipboard and typed some letters into a thick computer three models old.

"You'll be in Room 43, just up those stairs," she directed to her left, "Rooming with a student named Kim Myungsoo, though it appears he hasn't checked in yet. Leave the door open while you unpack and the dorm head'll come and give you the key for the lock, all right?"

I nodded, thanking her, as I slid the ID card off the counter and returned it to my backpack.