Redyyn's POV
The decision to leave my old life didn't feel brave.
It felt desperate.
I stood at Incheon International Airport with a single suitcase, a backpack slung over my shoulder, and a heart that refused to calm down. Around me, families reunited, tourists laughed, and announcements echoed overhead in rapid Korean and English. Everyone looked like they belonged somewhere.
I didn't.
Transferring colleges halfway across the world was supposed to feel like freedom. Instead, it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and convincing myself that falling counted as flying.
I checked my phone for the tenth time—no new messages. My parents had already said their goodbyes hours ago, and my friends were asleep back home. For the first time in my life, I was completely on my own.
The taxi ride into Seoul passed in a blur of lights and towering buildings. The city was alive in a way I had never experienced before—restless, electric, endless. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching strangers move through their lives, wondering if I would ever be more than a visitor here.
When the taxi finally stopped at the university gates, reality settled in.
This was it.
The campus was massive—modern architecture mixed with quiet green spaces, students crossing paths with confidence I envied. I dragged my suitcase toward the dorms, my arms aching, my thoughts louder than the city.
New country. New college. New chance.
I just didn't know how much this place was about to take from me—and how much it would give back.