*Seoul, South Korea — March 4*
The morning air was crisp, scented faintly with cherry blossoms already daring to bloom. Outside Hanseong High School, the crowd of navy-blue-uniformed students was a river of noise and motion. Most were familiar with the grounds, laughing with friends, comparing timetables, and racing to beat the bell. But for Amara Okoye, everything felt foreign — and far too fast.
Sixteen and fresh from Lagos, Nigeria, Amara stood outside the school gates feeling like a misplaced character in a K-drama. Her blazer sat neatly on her shoulders, and her shoes were polished to a shine, but the confidence she'd packed with her seemed to have stayed at the airport.
"Here goes nothing," she whispered, adjusting her satchel strap.
[8/4, 7:26 AM] ChatGPT: The move to Seoul had come quickly — her father's diplomatic assignment had uprooted them from their life in Lagos and dropped them into the heart of Korea. A new country. A new school. A new language. She'd had a month to settle in, but this — this was real. No more hiding behind apartment walls and private tutors. This was her first day of real Korean school life.
As she approached the school's large double doors, she heard rapid footsteps behind her and felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Are you Amara?" a soft voice asked in careful English.
Turning, Amara was met with the sight of a petite girl with short black hair and almond-shaped eyes. She smiled warmly.
"I'm Ji-eun. Class 2-B's representative. I was told to welcome you!"
"Oh, thank you." Amara relaxed just a little.
Ji-eun giggled, linking arms with her. "Come. I'll show you around before the bell rings."
They walked through polished hallways lined with lockers and announcement boards covered in Korean script Amara couldn't yet fully read. The students who passed them stared, some whispering behind their hands. Amara tried to ignore it. Being the only Black girl in the school — maybe in the whole district — meant standing out was inevitable.
[8/4, 7:26 AM] ChatGPT: "You don't have to worry," Ji-eun said as if reading her mind. "They're just curious. You're... kind of cool."
Amara smiled. "Kind of?"
"Well, really cool," Ji-eun admitted with a wink.
Class 2-B was already half-full when they arrived. Students looked up as Amara entered, and the room quieted almost immediately. The teacher, a thin man with silver-rimmed glasses, introduced her in Korean. Ji-eun translated quietly beside her.
"This is Amara Okoye. She's from Nigeria. She'll be with us this year."
A beat of silence. Then a few polite bows and nods.
She took the seat at the back by the window, grateful for the partial shield it gave her. The day passed in fragments — her Korean was functional thanks to intensive lessons, but lectures were a maze of unfamiliar terms and fast-talking teachers. Ji-eun helped when she could, passing notes and translations.
At lunch, Amara carried her tray to an empty corner. She was halfway through her kimchi and rice when someone dropped into the seat across from her.
"Hey. I'm Min-jun." He smiled and held out a hand. His hair was slightly tousled, his voice calm. "Your Korean's pretty good."
"I'm trying," Amara replied, smiling.
"You're brave, transferring here. I studied in the UK for a bit, and I know how hard it is to fit in."
[8/4, 7:26 AM] ChatGPT: "Yeah," she nodded. "Everything feels upside down."
Min-jun tilted his head. "Well, you've got Ji-eun, and now me. Two allies."
She laughed lightly. "Thanks. I think I'll need more than two, though."
"Study group," he offered. "After school. I'll get Ji-eun to bring you."
Later that evening, Amara sat at her desk in their apartment, reflecting. The study group had gone well — Min-jun and Ji-eun made her feel less like an outsider. They explained unfamiliar math terms, slowed down their speech for her, and even joked around like they'd known her for weeks.
She pulled out her journal and began to write.
*Dear diary,
Today was better than expected. I didn't cry in the bathroom. Win.
Also, Min-jun might be the most beautiful boy I've ever met. Not just because of his face — which, let's be honest, could be on a billboard — but the way he talks. He sees me like I'm not just the 'foreign girl'. Maybe this year won't be so bad.
Fingers crossed.*
The next few days passed with slow but steady progress. Amara began picking up phrases faster, responding confidently in class, and even joining her classmates during lunch. Still, not everyone was friendly.
In the hallway, she overheard a girl muttering in Korean: "She probably thinks she's better than us."
[8/4, 7:27 AM] ChatGPT: Amara pretended not to hear. Ji-eun squeezed her hand later. "Ignore them. They're just jealous. You're different — and different is powerful."
She clung to those words.
Then came the Friday gym class.
They were assigned a partnered volleyball match. Ji-eun paired with another girl, leaving Amara standing alone until the coach called out, "Min-jun! Team with Amara!"
He jogged over, beaming. "You any good?"
"I played in Nigeria. I'll try not to embarrass you."
They actually made a good team. She served strong; he blocked better. They lost narrowly, but when she landed an unexpected spike, the whole class clapped — even the girl who'd sneered in the hallway.
That night, Min-jun messaged her on the school's group chat app: *You crushed it today. Let's hang out after cram school Monday?*
She stared at the screen, heart fluttering.
Was this just friendship? Or something else?
Amara wasn't sure yet. But she was beginning to hope.
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