It was my first day on the job. It was summer and I was an intern journalist at Seoul Post.

I had always wanted to become a writer since kindergarten, and still do now at 19 years old. I don't know, I guess the thought of people reading what you write is exciting. And the thought that your writing matters is incredible.

I was a journalism and mass communication major at Seoul National University and I got in on full scholarship. My parents threw one heck of a party when I got admitted. They threw another party when I was accepted as an intern at Seoul Post, the number one daily newspaper in South Korea. Getting into Seoul Post was not easy; I had to have a grade point average of more than 3.50 and had to have a minimum of three published writings.

The problem is I had always been a shy and awkward person. Journalists must meet and interview people from all walks of life. Meanwhile, I barely had any friends and often stayed at home to read novels; I probably have more books than friends.

"Hi there, your name is Lee Hayi?" said a Seoul Post editor, Dara Park.

"Yes ma'am," I said to Dara.

Dara, my boss, was a gorgeous woman whose body could fit right into my pocket. She was wearing a black t-shirt with blue denim jeans and black platform shoes. Her black hair was pulled into a bun.

Dara was 32 years old. I heard that she was the youngest editor in Seoul Post's history. She was famous in Korea for her investigative reporting; she once revealed a massive corruption case in the Seoul city administration involving its mayor, an army general and dozens of other officials. The article she wrote was legendary and was still being discussed after three years.

She looked and acted like a sweet, gentle woman but she's actually tough and relentless. In other words, she's my hero.

"Call me Dara. I'll be your supervisor and you can call me whenever you need help. Alrighty?" Dara said.

"Yes ma'am --- I mean Dara. Yes, Dara," I said, to which Dara laughed at.

Dara then gave me a sheet of paper containing my assignment and wished me luck.

According to the sheet of paper, I was to go to Seoul City Hall for a press conference by the mayor. Seoul's mayor, Kim Jungjoo, was notorious for being a corrupt and above the law. Although I had never met the man or even talked to him, I had a feeling I would hate him.

---

I arrived at City Hall just in time. Hundreds of reporters swarmed the main auditorium with their recorders, cameras, and microphones. Everyone seemed to know everyone; they were chatting as they waited for Mayor Kim to surface.

I kept quite and kept to myself, like I always did. I watched the room to do a head count of reporters but gave up after reaching 27.

As I looked around the room, I saw a familiar face, a boy with a long nose and signature tired eyes. He was peeking at the reporters through an open door. Was that--?

"Kim Hanbin!" I whispered to myself.

He was a classmate at Seoul University. He rarely showed up in class but I could tell he