"Hi, I guess you're wondering who I am and what I'm doing here. Well, first of all, let me introduce myself. My name is Buchi Lyon, and, well, I'm an African student who just got a scholarship from Lyon Tech, yes, the AI company which shares my last name, and that's just a funny coincidence, by the way. This is also my first time in Korea, so everything feels different, but growing up, I've watched my fair share of K-drama, so I knew-or at least I thought I did-what to expect.
I roll over in bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of my dorm room. "Today's the big day. My first day at the university. Time to register, meet new people, and, hopefully, not embarrass myself."
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the early-morning sunlight on my face. That's when it happens—the dream.
Suddenly, I'm not in my room anymore. The air feels warmer, heavier. I'm lying on a plush bed with soft, cream-colored sheets, the faint scent of jasmine hanging in the air. Someone is sitting beside me—a man. His presence is magnetic, pulling me in without a word.
He bends over, his fingers tracing my shirt buttons. One after another, he opens them, deliberate, almost reverent. My chest comes into view, and he sends his hand across my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Firm and soft at the same time-a balance so spot-on it takes my breath away.
I am not seeing his face well-it's muddled, like the dream is taunting me-but his movements are in lucid detail. His fingers trail along my chest, warmth seeping into my skin. His lips are now close to mine, so close I can feel his breath.
The room tilts, my mind's camera zooming in on this one specific moment. His lips press against mine in a soft, unbearably slow, achingly tender touch. There's a taste to it, something sweet, like strawberries dipped in honey. My hands act on their own volition, reaching out to him, pulling him close.
The kiss deepens, and time stands still. Everything else fades away: the room, the bed, the world outside. All that existed was this moment, this connection. His hand moved to the curve of my waist, his touch firing a flame that I couldn't name.
But just as easily as it had started, the dream shifts. It cools, and I woke up with a jolt.
I sit up, cool air wrapping around me, like a reality check slapped across my face. My heart pounds, and it is as though the ghost of his touch lingers upon my skin.
"What the hell was that?" I mutter to myself as I run a hand through my hair.
I shake my head, trying to shake off the leftover sensations from the dream. "It's just a dream, Buchi; get over it."
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, rise, and stretch. "Time to focus. First day of university. No time for weird dreams."
Yet, as I head to the bathroom, this dream sticks in my head and refuses to go away. Who was he? And why did it seem so real?
I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror. "This is real. I'm here." A part of me wanted to be overwhelmed by it all; another part was begging for everything this new chapter would bring.
Today's the big day; so much this day promises-a well-accredited university, new friends, and the secrets of the city discovered-and who knows, I may stumble upon something astonishing. I just pray it doesn't become a hyper-dramatic story, as it usually would be with my regular doses of K-drama back home in the comfort of my country.
But one thing's for certain: it is only the beginning of something big.
As I stepped out of the AI company car that drove me to the school, I gazed at the towering buildings of the university. It felt surreal. Back home in Nigeria, everything was smaller, simpler. Here, everything screamed big and sophisticated. My palms were sweaty, but I shook off the nerves.
I looked at the map they gave me, but it might as well have been written in another language-oh wait, it was. Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the school grounds.
I saw a group of students standing near a bench, chatting animatedly. I gathered my confidence and approached them.
"Excuse me," I said, smiling slightly. "Can you help me find the registration office?"
They all stopped talking and turned around, staring at me. No one answered. I did not hear anything for some seconds.
"Hello?" I tried, a little louder this time.
One of the guys sized me up and down his eyes, told something in Korean to the others. They all were laughing but said nothing to me.
I clenched my fists, keeping my cool. "Alright, thanks for nothing."
I muttered under my breath as I walked away, "So much for the friendly Koreans I saw in those K-dramas."
---
I wandered down the hall trying to make out the signs. A security guard was standing near the door. Finally, an official!
"Excuse me," I said, approaching him. "Can you tell me where the registration office is?"
He didn't even look up from his phone, just pointed lazily down a hallway.
"Thanks," I said dryly, following his gesture.
But a quarter of an hour later, I was still lost. My legs ached from walking in circles, and my head spun from the unfamiliar environment. Frustrated, I crouched down near a wall, trying to catch my breath.
That's when I saw a boy walking toward me, his nose buried in a book.
"Hey!" I called out, quick to my feet.
The boy looked up, startled. He had sharp features and kind eyes framed by black-rimmed glasses.
"Uh. hi?" he replied in accented English with caution.
"Do you speak English?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Thank God," I sighed. "I've been trying to find the registration office, but no one will help me."
He adjusted his glasses as if perusing me. "You're. an international student, right?"
"Yeah. From Nigeria. Name's Buchi."
I'm Frank," he said, giving a slight smile. "Come on, I'll show you where it is."
---
Frank led me through the maze of hallways until we stood in front of a glass door that had "Registration Office" emblazoned on it.
"Here," he said, pushing it open.
The room was buzzing: students filling out forms on long desks, staff shuffling papers behind counters. I approached one of the counters where a woman in a blue blazer furiously typed away on her computer.
"Excuse me," I said.
She looked up; her expression was bored. "Yes?"
"I'm here to register. I'm an international student."
She sighed, pulling out a clipboard. "Name?"
"Buchi Lyon."
"Passport?"
I handed it over. She glanced at it briefly, then looked at me. "Do you have your admission letter?"
"Yes, here." I fumbled with my bag and pulled it out.
She took it wordlessly and tapped something into her computer. "You'll need to fill out these forms," she said, handing me a stack of papers. "And bring photocopies of your passport, visa, and admission letter."
I turned to Frank, who nodded encouragement.
"Where would I go to photocopy something?"
"Down the hall, beside the library," she said curtly.
Frank offered to accompany me and we ran the copies. When we returned, she paid us scant acknowledgement, took the papers, stapled them together and said:
"Next you'll need to open a Korean bank account for tuition and living.
She nodded toward another counter where an ironed middle-aged man was sorting some papers.
"Thanks," I said, and I walked there.
---
The man in the second counter turned toward me as I approached.
"Bank account?" he asked briefly.
"Yes."
He passed a brochure to me. "You need those papers: student ID, passport photocopy, and residence proof."
I blinked. "Proof of residence?"
"Where do you reside?
I hesitated. "Uh. the AI company that gave me the scholarship provided an apartment."
"Then you'll need to get a residency certificate from them."
Frank leaned in. "I can help you with that. It's just a form they need to sign."
"Thanks, man," I said gratefully.
"Once you have all that," the man went on, "you take it to the bank. They'll establish your account and give you a debit card. And you'll need to see about insurance-mandatory for all students."
"Where do I do that?"
"Insurance?" he repeated. "There's a kiosk near the student center. They'll take you through it."
I nodded, trying to keep track.