A SEOUL MATE- A REINCARNATION ROMANCE (Book 1)

After what seemed like hours, we finally left the registration office. With all the paperwork, the new rules, and how to do this and that, my head was spinning, while Frank stayed with me to guide me through everything.

"You're a lifesaver," I said while on our way to the bank to set up my account. My words were sincere-without him, I would have been utterly lost.

"Don't mention it," he replied with a small smile. "You'll pick it up soon enough."

The bank was busy, the sound of rapid Korean everywhere around us. The sliding glass doors closed behind us and we were faced immediately by a crisply uniformed young woman at the reception desk.

"Annyeonghaseyo, eotteoke dowadeurilkkayo?" she said, inclining her head. ("Hello, how may I assist you?")

I blinked, completely at a loss. "Uh. I need to open an account?" I ventured, the words slow and uncertain.

Frank eased in without any problem in Korean, "Geu-bun-eun sae eun-haeng gye-jwa-reul yeo-ryeo-ya hae-yo. Oe-guk-in hak-saeng-i-se-yo." ("He needs to open a new bank account. He is an international student.")

She nodded and motioned us toward the customer service area, while saying, "Jam-si-man-yo, " before extending her hand out toward me to follow. ("Excuse me for a moment,

I turned to Frank, who nodded reassuringly. "Just follow me. She'll sort it out."

We were seated at a small desk where another staff member greeted us: a middle-aged man with round glasses and a polite, though businesslike, smile. "Welcome. Do you have your ARC and passport?" he asked, his English accented but clear.

"Yes, right here," I said, fumbling for the documents in my bag. My hands were shaking slightly-this was my first big errand since my arrival.

The clerk peered at them for a moment, pecking away at his computer. "And can you show me your proof of residency?"

"Not yet," I stammered. "I only registered today."

Frank leaned forward and said in a composed tone, in Korean: "Geu-neun bang-geum deung-rok-eul ma-chyeoss-seum-ni-da. Geo-ju jeung-myeong-seo-reul got bat-eul ye-jeong-im-ni-da. Geu-ga gye-jwa-reul yeol su iss-seum-ni-kka?" ("He has just completed his registration. He is expected to receive his proof of residence soon. Can he open an account?")

The man tapped his pen on the desk thoughtfully. "If he doesn't have proof of residency yet, then he'll need a temporary verification letter. We can process the account now, but it'll be inactive until the proof is given."

"Is that going to be a problem?" I asked Frank nervously.

Frank translated, then shook his head. "No, they'll initiate. Just make sure you mail that letter the moment you receive it."

The staff member handed me a form. "Fill this out, please."

I stared at the paper, the words dancing before my eyes. It was completely in Korean.

Frank chuckled low in his throat. "Yeah, I thought this might happen." He reached for the pen and leaned over the form. "I'll help you. Name?"

"Buchi…"

I looked up. "Do I need my full name?"

"Yes, your full name. And spell it clearly—he'll need to copy it exactly."

I nodded and dictated slowly my full name. Frank filled it out, neat and precise.

The man was watching with curiosity. "You two friends?

Frank, ever cautious, seemed to look for my approval first before proceeding. "Not yet, but we're getting there."

I laughed. "I guess he's my unofficial guide."

The man smiled slightly. "It's good to have someone to help. Starting fresh in a new country can be overwhelming."

"You don't say," I muttered. Frank found that funny.

The form took a little longer than I thought, Frank translating each section as I tried to keep up.

Occupation?" Frank asked.

"Student," I said, then hesitated. "Wait, do I write 'student' or something about the scholarship?"

Frank turned to the bank staff and asked in Korean. After a short conversation, he turned back to me. "Just write 'student.' You don't have to write anything about the scholarship.".

Finally, he completed the form and typed the information on his computer. "Alright, all but one or two more. Do you want a debit card today or pick it up later?"

"Today, if possible," I said.

Frank translated, and he nodded. "It will take about 30 minutes. Please wait in the seating area and we will call you when it is ready.

We retreated to the waiting area, collapsing into plush chairs. I let out a deep sigh. "That was exhausting."

Frank smiled. "It wasn't that bad. You're lucky they had someone there that spoke English."

"Lucky is not the word I'd use," I grumbled. "Do they always ask so many questions?"

Frank chuckled. "They're just being thorough. You'll get used to it.

Thirty minutes later, my name was called-or at least, their best attempt at my name. "Bu-chi… Na-mu?"

I rose, perplexed, and Frank burst out laughing again. "That's you. Go ahead."

We went back to the desk, where the staffer handed me a sleek debit card. "Your account is now open. Don't forget to bring your proof of residency soon."

I nodded, clutching the card like it was a golden ticket. "Thank you."

---

As we came out of the bank, I turned to Frank.

"Seriously, dude. I don't know how I would have done all this without you."

He smiled faintly. "It's no big deal. I know how hard it can be to adjust as an international student."

"I owe you one," I said with sincerity.

He chuckled. "Just don't get lost again."

I laughed, but my smile fell when I noticed a group of seniors leaning against a nearby wall, watching us.

"Who are they?" I whispered.

Frank glanced over and tensed up. "Just. avoid them."

"Why?"

"Trust me," he muttered. "Let's go."

But it was too late. One of them—a tall guy with slicked-back hair—moved forward, smirking.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" he drawled.

Frank tensed up beside me, his hands curling into fists.

I squared my shoulders. "Is there a problem?"

The guy's smirk broadened. "You're new, aren't you? Don't worry. We'll make sure you feel. welcome."

The others laughed, their voices ominously echoing.

Frank grasped my arm. "Let's go."

But I didn't budge. "I'm not afraid of you," I said, my voice level.

The guy's eyes shone with amusement. "Oh, you will be."

---

To be continued.