West Seoul University Series

by Leigh Ban

  Christy leaned over and dug out another handful of chips. “Of course! What makes you think I haven’t already been to their concert?”

  “Well, I know you don’t like crowds,” I mentioned.

  Her eyes grew round underneath her rectangular glasses. “The thing is, I don’t want to waste my time going to crowded places when I can stay in my room and fangirl over Undone in peace. So obviously, going to their concert would be an exception. I would stand in line for weeks if I needed to. My goodness, their live performance was the highlight of my life. Unlike all the less talented boy bands who rely on autotune or prefer to lip-sync, my boys have such steady, strong voices. Their singing and rapping sounds even better in person.”

  “You’re their number-one fan.”

  “No, I have a long way to go. I wish I could win one of the raffles for their autograph-signing events. Only a hundred people are selected each time. Apparently, for Undone’s last event, there was a woman who bought two hundred albums but wasn’t selected.”

  “Seriously? Two hundred albums?” I said as I got up to walk over to the bathroom.

  “Yup, two hundred.”

  “Christy, I hope your dream comes true without you having to purchase two hundred albums,” I replied in a sing-song voice.

  She called out, “Except my biggest dream isn’t to attend an autograph-signing event. It’s to meet Sun on campus.”

  At a quarter to three, I arrived at Crazy Cozy Café, where Joon and I had agreed to meet. As I was fifteen minutes early, I headed straight to the bathroom to freshen up. One of my favorite parts about the café was the spacious, clean bathroom. I peered into the full-length mirror by the bathroom door to blot oil off my face and reapply concealer under my eyes. Once I stepped back from the mirror, I spotted a curl that sprang out of place, so I tried to fix up my hair. Then I spritzed some cooling face mist and stepped out of the bathroom at exactly three o’clock. While I was standing by the entrance, my phone rang. I picked up immediately.

  “Dana, this is Joon. Where are you?”

  “At Crazy Cozy. When are you getting here?” I replied, glancing outside.

  A couple of guys laughed in the background. Joon shushed them and said, “Oh, you’re already there?”

  “Yeah, I’m waiting for you. Is there a problem?”

  “I think I might be a little late. Do you want to order first and wait for me?”

  “A little late?” My voice cracked. “What do you mean? What time do you think you’ll get here?”

  “Well, I’m currently in a rehearsal room at Sul Student Center. You see, I’ve been busy preparing for tonight. Did I tell you I’m performing tonight? Okay, I’ve got to go. See you soon!”

  After he hung up, I tossed my phone into my bag and grunted. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t even told me when he’d get here. Although I wanted to storm out of the café so that he’d turn up and wonder where I was, I suspected he wouldn’t even put in the effort to come and find me. I trudged over to the counter, ordered a Crazy Cappuccino, and sat down near the entrance. Half an hour later, Joon ran into the café.

  “Hey, how’s the cappuccino?” Joon smiled as he pointed to my empty cup.

  I scowled, looking into his eyes. “Joon.”

  He chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be serious. You might want to do something to control your hair, by the way. It’s looking even bouncier than usual.”

  “Do you honestly think my hair is the problem?”

  “Dana, no need to be defensive about your hair again. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have been late. Would you like another cappuccino? I’ll go and order.”

  Before I could respond, he went over to the counter, then returned with a buzzer.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” he said as he brushed his leg against mine under the table.

  “Did you forget that we were supposed to meet up?”

  “No, I didn’t forget. Believe it or not, I had to sneak out to come and see you. My Planet R brothers wouldn’t have let me leave otherwise. We’ve been preparing for our performance. You’re attending the festival tonight, aren’t you? I’m performing at seven. I better see you in the crowd.”

  “Joon, are you kidding me? What makes you think I’ll be there?”

  He clutched my hand. “Because I’ll be up on that stage, thinking about you.”

  I knew I was supposed to be mad at him, but I felt my body heat up. While I pondered what to say in response, the buzzer went off. Joon left the table and returned with his iced coffee and my second cappuccino.

  “Thanks,” I muttered when he handed me the cup.

  “So how have you been?” he said before he sipped through the straw.

  “I went to the festival with Yumi and Stella yesterday. It sucked. Anyway, why did you ask me to meet you?” I asked.

  Although I expected a light answer with a laugh, Joon turned silent. When he gazed into my eyes, I realized there really was something serious he needed to address.

  He cleared his throat. “Dana, I haven’t been upfront with you. The truth is, I do like you, a lot.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Joon was going to tell me what I’d been waiting to hear since the day we first met in January. I was tempted to lunge across the table to hug him.

  He continued. “However, I—”

  “However? Joon, what is it?” I stared at him, confused. Admittedly, the first thought that came to mind was a problem to do with me not being Korean enough. I wondered if he had racist parents who would be outraged about him dating a biracial girl.

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready to be in a relationship right now. As much as I like you, I don’t think I can deal with the responsibilities of being your boyfriend. Since I’ve been going through major life changes lately, I don’t want to overwhelm myself. I’ve got to focus on making great music with Planet R. On top of that, I’m auditioning for a television show.”

  “You’re auditioning for a television show?” I squeaked while trying to make sense of everything he’d shared.

  “K Hip-Hop Hustle. It’s a talent show for young rappers. Have you heard of it, Dana? The third season will be airing in summer.”

  “Didn’t you used to say you hate Korean mainstream music? You told me I should try listening to more underground stuff.”

  Joon simpered. “I was referring to the fake, manufactured boy band crap. I hate how those K-pop idols pretend to be musicians and artists. You know, they don’t even care what the lyrics are about. They’re just puppets. I’m going to be a musician and an artist. My rap lyrics are going to have soul.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why are we discussing this? Joon, I was waiting here for over half an hour. Did you make me come here because you wanted to brag about your future as a musician and an artist?”

  “No, I wanted to tell you I liked you.”

  “What’s the point of letting me know if you’re not prepared to be in a relationship?”

  Joon reached out and stroked my forearm. “Because I’m not ready to be in a relationship right now. But once I make a name for myself, I’m going to treat you the way you deserve. I’ll make you my girlfriend.”

  I swatted his hand away.

  “Mark my words, Dana. When I win the third season of K Hip-Hop Hustle, I’ll begin my speech by asking you out.”

  Before I had the chance to reply, his phone rang.

  He jumped up from his seat. “The other guys are looking for me, I’ve got to go. Dana, come and see me perform at seven, okay?”

  Though I was mad at Joon, I left my dorm and headed over to the athletic field ten minutes before he was scheduled to perform. I didn’t tell any of my friends I was going to the festival again. Yumi would probably insist that I shouldn’t give Joon the satisfaction of seeing me in the audience. Although I had no plans for the rest of the night and didn’t intend to stay at the festival for long, I put on a tight yellow minidress that accentuated my hips and legs. My fingers were decked out with my favorite rings. De
ep down, I wanted him to notice me while he performed. Perhaps he’d invite me to whichever after-party he was planning to attend.

  Since Friday was the last night of the festival and celebrities would be turning up to perform later, the athletic field was so packed with groups of freshman girls with rhinestones on their foreheads that I couldn’t see a single patch of grass. I shoved past the crowd to stand by the front of the stage. An MC in a navy suit provided an overview of the performances and cracked jokes. According to the large banner above the stage, he was a television announcer and an alumnus.

  The MC extended one arm and announced, “Ladies and gents, here are the first performers of tonight, Planet R!”

  As Joon and five other guys stepped onto the stage, a trap beat began to play.

  A big guy with dreadlocks called out in his booming voice, “Yo, West Seoul University! We’ll be performing two songs tonight. The first one is ‘Break Me.’ Let’s get it!”

  While the guy in dreadlocks started off by rapping the first verse, Joon shook his head to the beat. The audience got into the song immediately, chanting “Break Me” and grooving to the music. However, all the other guys who rapped after him stammered and mumbled several times, including Joon, whose face flushed red after his verse. When Planet R performed their second song, people started checking their phones. As Joon swaggered to the center of the stage for the final verse, he flashed his washboard abs. The group of girls next to me shrieked. He was bursting with energy, but not in his usual way; his rap was full of angst.

  “And screw the haters!” Joon shouted out as he took off his T-shirt and threw it into the audience.

  The crowd went wild as Joon and the rest of Planet R made their way off the stage. When people chanted “encore,” the guy with dreadlocks shook his head.

  “Thank you, Planet R. What a wonderful performance to set the mood.” The MC put his arm on Joon’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  Joon panted, “Mad JJ.”

  “Ladies and gents, Mad JJ! Now, I’m sure some of the ladies in the audience are dying to know if you’re single or taken.”

  Joon nodded with a smirk. “Single.”

  “Did you hear that, everyone? He’s single! And what should the lovely ladies in the audience do if they want to keep up with you?”

  “Follow me on Joagram @madjoonjung!” Joon shouted out, bouncing his pecs.

  The group of girls beside me squealed “Mad JJ” so loudly my ears ached.

  “Check out that body! I can’t believe he’s single.”

  “I usually can’t stand guys with piercings, but his nose ring is so sexy.”

  As the girls got their phones out, I couldn’t believe what was going on. The reason he wanted to stay single was not because he was too busy. His real objective was to have a huge crowd of women fawn over him. A musician and an artist? The only work of art he could offer was his fit body. As the hem of my dress rubbed against me, my thigh itched. I regretted coming to the festival in such a tiny, gaudy dress just to see Joon perform.

  As an obscure boy group made their way onto the stage, I escaped the chaos in the athletic field. After what I witnessed, my head was pounding, and my throat felt dry. Once I saw a vending machine beside an empty bench, I fumbled through my wallet to find some spare change. I pressed the button for a can of grated pear juice, then bent over to grab my drink. There were two thuds. When I looked down and saw that two cans had dropped out of the vending machine, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Was the universe trying to cheer me up? While I popped a can open, the guy who had been standing behind me proceeded to fish coins out of his pocket. He wore a black hoodie with the hood up. The lower half of his face was covered in a black disposable mask.

  After taking a large gulp, I asked, “What are you going to drink? Do you like grated pear juice?”

  As he turned toward me, I recognized those striking dark eyes.

  “Do I know you?” I called out, putting my drink on the bench next to the vending machine.

  He froze.

  “Didn’t you attend the after-party at Tree yesterday? I spilled Champagne on you, right? I’m so sorry about that, by the way. Here, would you like some pear juice? The vending machine gave me an extra one. I was going to offer it to you anyway, but now you have to take it. This is the least I could do,” I said, handing him the unopened can.

  Although I couldn’t tell whether he was smiling or not under the mask, his gaze softened.

  “Are you wearing the same hoodie as yesterday? I’m glad you were able to wash off the smell of Champagne.” I laughed.

  After he looked around, he removed his mask and muttered, “No.”

  He was so breathtakingly attractive my jaw almost dropped open. His eyes were even more alluring without the distraction of a mask, and he had the most handsome, well-defined nose I’d ever seen, with a small freckle at the tip. For a minute, I simply stared at him to admire the perfect balance of his facial features.

  As he slipped his mask into his pocket, I joked nervously. “So do you have a closet full of black hoodies? Don’t you get hot wearing those hoodies in this weather?”

  He opened his can. “I don’t mind sweating a little.”

  “You must not be coming from the festival then. The athletic field is packed to the brim with people. You would’ve been absolutely sweltering,” I said, watching him take a sip.

  There was a gleam in his eyes. “Actually, I just walked over from there because I was thirsty. What did you think of the performances?”

  “Hmm, which one? The rap crew or the boy group? The members of Planet R weren’t perfect by any means, but they were real. As for the boy group, I don’t even know what they’re called.”

  “You’re not very into K-pop, are you? At least not boy bands. Apparently those guys are rookies that debuted at the start of this year. If I’m not mistaken, I think their group name is KX2.”

  I snickered. “KX2? Is there also a KX1 then? Mind you, I don’t have anything against K-pop groups. I’m just not interested in how they’re all formulaic, cookie-cutter copies of each other. They rely on their looks to gain popularity. Plus, they always sing songs someone else wrote for them. The lyrics mean nothing to them personally. How about you? Are you a fan of K-pop?”

  When our eyes met, he burst into laughter. I looked at him, baffled, as I hadn’t said anything particularly amusing.

  He replied, “Yeah, you could say I’m a fan. Now, I don’t want to start an argument with you, but there are K-pop groups where some of the members take part in songwriting and producing music. Also, didn’t one of the guys in the rap group take his shirt off for the audience? Pop stars aren’t the only ones who show off their looks.”

  As I grabbed my can from the bench and took a deep swig, I thought about how Joon had behaved onstage. He saw himself as an aspiring musician and an artist, but his verses in the songs he performed were far from original. To be honest, I didn’t understand why he tried to seem angry. Joon kept cursing at his haters even though he didn’t have any—at least not yet.

  I nodded. “You know what? You’re right. I shouldn’t make these kinds of generalizations. So which boy groups write and produce their own songs?”

  Before the guy in the black hoodie could reply, my phone rang. Christy was calling me, probably to ask if I wanted to order fried chicken delivery. Her favorite local chicken joint wasn’t on any food-delivery apps and she hated communicating with strangers over the phone, so I was the one who placed the order, even when I wasn’t eating with her. When I didn’t pick up, she sent me a message.

  “Hey, I’d love to keep hearing your thoughts on music, but I’ve got to head back to International House. My suitemate needs me right now. I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way. See you around!” I said as I threw my can in the trash and hurried off. Just before I dialed Christy’s number, I turned around to look at him one last time.

  He had an entertained look on his face. “See you around?”

 
Chapter Three

  Summer

  Although I was in the middle of my third year at West Seoul University, I felt like a lost child in a hectic farmers market whenever I thought of my career plans. Since I started college without having a clue as to what I wanted to do with my life, I followed my parents’ recommendation and chose to major in economics. They told me it was a practical field of study where I could make use of my strongest subject: math. Growing up, I hated math, but they made me receive private tutoring so that I could get into advanced math classes at school. My mom’s catchphrase was “English is a global language. Mathematics is a universal language.”

  After my first semester, I realized I lacked the drive and brains to attain a high-paying job in finance, which was what everyone in my classes seemed interested in. Even though I hated studying economics, I didn’t change my major because there wasn’t anything else I wanted to study instead. I sure as hell didn’t want to major in pure mathematics. So I did the bare minimum to keep a normal GPA. I occasionally crammed for exams and pulled all-nighters before deadlines, but otherwise, I focused on having fun with my friends—I just wanted to party.

  Every college break, I spent most of the day lazing about. I woke up past noon and spent several hours getting dressed up. By the time I returned to my room, it was usually dawn. Even when I took part in a campus community service program with Yumi last winter, where I ended up meeting Joon, I’d maintained my lazy habits as we only volunteered twice a week. I felt a little guilty about how reckless I was, especially since most of the other students at West Seoul University seemed busy with building an impressive résumé. So when Yumi told me she was doing a summer internship at the Bank of Korea, I knew I had to start getting up early and sticking to a routine too.

  I was initially drawn to West Seoul University’s summer sessions because the classes were only three weeks long, which felt less daunting than applying for a two-month internship. Although there were plenty of economics classes to choose from, since it was one of the biggest majors on campus, the thought of waking up early and sweating my ass off to go to the same lecture halls as usual made me feel sick. Although there were a couple of interesting courses, most of the classes were from nine to twelve in the morning. The only class with a somewhat reasonable starting time was Creative Music Projects, which started at eleven. When I read the course description, I knew I’d found the right summer class for me. Instead of listening to lectures and studying for exams, students were required to plan and complete a group project. Since the class was offered to all undergraduates regardless of major, I decided to find out more by signing up.