Taking my luggage from the cab, uncannily different from the Korean ones I’m used to, I turn back to say goodbye to my mom.

“Goodbye, Eomeoni.”

“Make sure to call me every time you can.”

“I will.”

Even though I prefer to stay back at Incheon or go to a high school in Seoul, I have to be better. Although choosing Melbourne International Excellence Promotion High School, one of the most competitive high schools in the world, might not be a practical choice for most others, it has to be an effective option for me.

The entrance exam might have gone well for me, placing me at the 54th rank out of the 9137 other students who have been admitted here, but that’s just the end of the beginning. Competition has to increase. I have to prepare even harder for the yearly-assessment tests here.

Just as I enter the gates of the campus, I can see hundreds of teenagers, who seem to be from various cultural backgrounds, chatting, eating, walking, and exploring the school grounds. The whole campus was a lush green park with many trees. The leaves were of odd shapes, at least to me, and they made patterns like constellations when they got blurred under the intense sunlight.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

It might be that this is normal in Australia, but it still is shocking. The entirety of the 147 acres of the campus, as big as a small city, is gorgeous.

With my four months worth of Japanese tuition, I can make out an exuberant group speaking about how different this school is from their previous school. As I pass them, I greet them.

“Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu.”

The group turns to me to reply.

“Yoroshi- I mean- Nice to meet you too.”

As expected, they did switch to English. To get extra credits in the entrance exam, they have to learn at least one language that is not their first language. Competition is tough right now. To make Eomma proud and to repay all her efforts in giving me the best education, I have to study harder.

As I make my way to building C, I can see many students of around my age discussing solemnly about the infrastructure of the school. Making my way to 9-K, I get a good glimpse of the teachers and the staff of the school. They are all very neatly dressed and are communicating in a serene manner.

Looking at the stylisation of the corridors, I notice a clock displaying the time as 9 a.m.

I hurry to the section labelled ‘10th Grade’. Upon thorough inspection, I realised that ‘Section K’ was written on the other side of the label.