A SEOUL MATE- A REINCARNATION ROMANCE (Book 1)

The soft beeping of my alarm yanked me from a poor, restless sleep. I grumbled and reached over, silencing it before flipping onto my back. The ceiling fan spun lazily above me. Today was the day. First day of school. My stomach churned with nervous energy.

"Let's do this," I muttered to myself, throwing the blanket aside.

I walked to the bathroom: that did it-the cold tiles upon my feet jolted me wide awake. As the water poured on my skin in the shower, I suddenly felt alive. The heavy scent of soap was bitter in the air as, all the while trying to steady my nerves, I lathered up.

Coming out, I reached for the uniform I had laid out the night before: navy-blue slacks, a white shirt crispy from ironing, and a blazer with the crest of the school stitched perfectly on the left chest, stood boldly-a red phoenix amidst a circle of gold laurels. It felt strange wearing it.

I had shaken while my fingers worked to tie my tie with red stripes, reflecting in the mirror. It would all fit perfectly, though stiff. My black shoes gleamed, having been waxed to perfection.

"You'll be fine," I said to myself and smoothed my hair.

Downstairs, the smell of toast and eggs wafted off into the air. Then I didn't even have time to eat anything because Mr. Lee the driver was already standing, like a dark ornament near that entrance in black suits to a glove. "Morning Buchi," he nodded greeting at me. "Morning." The bag that swung across my back turned a lot. "You ready for your first day," asked he, then went towards opening the door.

As ready as I'll ever be," I said, sliding into the backseat.

He chuckled and turned the keys in the ignition. "You'll do fine, just remember, confidence is key."

The drive down was quiet save the low hum of the engine. I stared out the window, taking in the city streets: the morning buzz-cars, bicycles, buses weaving in and out of traffic.

And soon, it came into view: a big campus surrounded by high iron gates. The main building was imposing: sleek glass windows and tall pillars. Students in the same uniforms went about in clusters; the air was filled with their chatter. "Here we are," said Mr. Lee, pulling up by the gate. "Thanks, Mr. Lee." "Good luck, Buchi," he said, giving me an assuring smile. ---

It felt like I just walked into the scene of some Korean drama as I stepped through the gates. Seniors walked with that confidence in their steps that only years and experience can give. Their black blazers were in perfect shape, and the sound of their shoes on the stone pathway was a beauty to hear. And first years like me were pretty easy to recognize: groups of nervous faces darting between their schedules and the giant school map plastered up on the walls.

The building was spotless. In the bright morning light, the white walls glittered. Disconnected hallways lined endless rows of lockers painted in various shades of blue and gray. Every corner sounded like a soft hum of conversations, the squeaking of shoes, and every now and then, a gruff bark of any teacher.

I followed the stream of students to the registration office, clutching the slip I'd been given during orientation. Inside, a middle-aged woman with a sharp bob and glasses perched on her nose was furiously typing away at a keyboard. A nameplate read Mrs. Choi – Administration.

I cleared my throat, stepping forward. "Excuse me."

Mrs. Choi looked up, her eyes running me up and down. For a moment, she looked as though she might shoo me away, but then her expression softened. "New student?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, straightening up. "Buchi Lyon."

She tapped a few keys, then tugged out a folder from the pile on her desk. "Here we go. That has your key to a school locker in it, a student's identification, and your schedule. Class B: most freshman coming in end up there; with decent grades, sometimes a few jump up into Class A; although as her tone pointed out that was by no means assured.

I nodded, silent. "Thank you."

"Today is pretty much an orientation," she continued, her voice firm. "After your classes, you'll go to the auditorium for your welcome session. Be on time."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, holding onto the folder tightly.

I heard a loud "Yo, Buchi!" as I turned to leave. I looked up to see Frank leaning casually against the wall, grinning from ear to ear; he looked utterly out of place, too laid back for the strict environment.

"Frank," I said relieved. "What are you doing here?

Waiting for you, obviously," he said, pushing off the wall. "Thought you'd need a guide. And by the look on your face, I was right."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I was doing fine, you know."

"Sure you were. Come on," he said, grabbing my arm and steering me into the hall. "Let me show you the ropes.

Walking down the passageway, Frank was running a commentary on the school: "Over there is the cafeteria; you don't want to be the last in line, trust me. That is the library-strict as hell about noise. The lockers on the far end are where seniors lounge around. Don't think of standing there unless you've got a death wish."

I nodded along, doing the best I could to soak it all in.

Frank suddenly stopped and turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. "What's going on with your tie?"

I glanced down at the slightly crooked knot. "What? It's fine."

"It's not fine," he said, crossing his arms. "You look like you're about to audition for a drama about a rebellious delinquent."

I waved him off. "It's fine, Frank. I'll fix it later."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Not on my watch. Come here."

Before I could utter a word of protest, he seized the ends of my tie and started to re-knot it. "Stop squirming," he said, smirking. "This is for your own good."

"I can do it myself," I muttered, trying to push his hands away.

"You're terrible at this. Just let me--hold still!

A passing group of students slowed down, their eyes on the scene before them. One girl with pigtails in her hair, who was next to her friend, urged, "Are they couple?" Another carrying a stack of books haphazardly tripped over his own feet and fell flat onto the floor with a thud. The hallway silenced for a moment as all in it turned to stare at him.

"I'm fine!" the boy yelled, scrambling to gather his books. Beet red, he hurried away, muttering apologies.

Frank burst out laughing, and even I couldn't help but grin. "See? You're already causing a scene," I said.

Frank shrugged. "Welcome to your first day." He finished with my tie and stepped back, eyeing his handiwork. "There. Perfect. Now, about your hair…

I instinctively ran a hand through my curls. "What's wrong with my hair?"

Frank shook his head. "It's fine, but it could be better. Here, let me—"

"No way," I said, backing up. "You're not touching my hair."

Frank laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But don't blame me if the seniors think you're a lost cause.

As he spoke, someone stood at the far end of the hall-a senior. His dark blazer and confident stance made him impossible to miss. It looked like his eyes brow went to kill someone, and it flicked toward Frank and me, and for one brief moment, our gazes met. His expression unreadable-somewhere between curiosity and annoyance. Then in an instant, he turned and walked away.

Who was that?" I asked, nodding toward the retreating figure.

Frank glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, him? Don't worry about it. Seniors have their own weird drama."

I shrugged, letting it go for now. "So, where's Class B?"

"Follow me," Frank said, leading the way again. "And try not to embarrass yourself too much.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help feeling grateful for his presence. The first day was already shaping up to be more eventful than I'd expected.