West Seoul University Series

by Leigh Ban

  “His what?”

  “Bona, he’s not just any Taehyun Kim or Taehyun Lee—he’s Taehyun Seo.”

  “Taehyun Seo? I know, and?”

  “He’s one of the heirs to the S&F Group. His grandfather is Seo Sang Taek, the founder.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Seo Sang Taek? As in Seo Sang Taek Arts Foundation? Seo Media? Seo Woo Center for Performing Arts?”

  On Saturday, Dana and I prepared to go out to the party at Lil Bottle in the most leisurely way possible. We got up around noon and finished off some leftover fried chicken in our mini-fridge for lunch. Once we’d both showered, we played R&B music in the background as she helped me pick out what to wear, then styled our hair while talking about which bar we should go to after the party.

  Dana said, “I feel like we’ve gone to Bubble Bomb plenty of times. We need to find a new hangout spot that’s just as wild.”

  “You’re going to be busy acting lovey-dovey with Joon regardless of where we eventually end up,” I pointed out.

  “Joon and I have been lovey-dovey enough. When is he going to actually ask me out?” Dana sighed.

  “Maybe tonight’s the night.”

  Once Dana finished applying her makeup, she looked at a hand mirror.

  She asked, “By the way, you told Phil how to get to Lil Bottle, right? You have to tell him it’s closer to Exit 8 than Exit 9 at Hongik Station.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll message him now,” I said, opening JoaJoa on my phone. “I think Phil’s shoot must’ve finished late yesterday.”

  Although it was already mid-afternoon, Phil still seemed to be asleep. He hadn’t messaged me since dinnertime yesterday. Since he often explained to me in detail that working on set wasn’t as easy as ordinary people presumed, I tried not to pester him about messaging me regularly during his busiest days. Besides, he wasn’t a model and an actor for the attention; he was the hardworking head of his family.

  Dana and I were so excited for the evening we even decided to pregame by drinking some cheap wine with a screw cap. We didn’t have any wine glasses in our room, so we would take a swig out of the bottle, then hand it over to the other person. By the time we left our room to head to Lil Bottle, it had been almost twenty-four hours since Phil last contacted me. However, I was far too giddy to consider this a problem. Seeing as he’d read my messages, I assumed he was simply getting ready for the party.

  Once Dana and I got off the subway and were almost at Lil Bottle, I finally dialed Phil’s number. I tried calling five times, but he didn’t pick up.

  “Where is he?” Dana asked.

  “I have no clue,” I said. My head began to spin. “I don’t know because he isn’t picking up my call or responding to my messages.”

  “Do you think his phone died?”

  “Dana!” I shrieked. “Phil hasn’t contacted me since this time yesterday.”

  “Dana! Stella!” Joon called out, waving from the entrance to Lil Bottle. Although there was already a long queue, he was standing next to the bouncer and holding four paper wristbands.

  “Stella,” Dana said as she put her hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside and sort this out?”

  I couldn’t stand Lil Bottle. Even though the party was just getting started, the place was already packed. We had to shove past groups of people smoking and grinding against each other to get to our table. I tried to swat strangers’ hands away as my arms were tugged on and I was repeatedly groped. The acrid smell of the fog machine and cigarettes made me feel weak.

  After we sat around a table, I didn’t talk to anyone. I tapped my fingers against my thigh as I stared intently at my phone screen. Then, when I went into my JoaJoa chatroom with Phil, I felt like I’d been pushed down a staircase. He had removed his profile picture—the photo of me that he’d asked for. My head hurt, and my chest tightened at the realization that he wasn’t going to turn up. My boyfriend had stood me up.

  I turned to Dana and Joon. “You guys, I’m really sorry. Phil can’t…”

  As I headed toward the bathroom, Dana followed behind.

  “Dana, can I have a moment alone? Please?”

  Once I was alone inside a tiny bathroom stall, I wept. I attempted to call Phil again, fully prepared to lash out at him, but there was just a single ring. His phone was now turned off. With smeared eyeliner and tear streaks along my cheeks, I didn’t have the courage to face Dana and Joon. I ripped up the paper wristband on my arm and called Yumi.

  “Hello?” Yumi said, picking up straight away.

  “Yumi, this is Stella,” I mumbled.

  “Stella? What’s up?”

  “It’s Phil, he…”

  “What happened, Stella?” Yumi lowered her voice. “What did Phil do?”

  “He…” I was crying so hard I struggled to speak.

  “Stella, you’re at that party with Dana, right? Can you get to Sinchon? Should we meet in half an hour?”

  “Yeah,” I said between sobs. “Thanks.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Why is this happening to me?” I cried out after knocking back another shot of soju.

  Once I left Lil Bottle, I took a short taxi ride to Sinchon, where I met Yumi. Although I expected her to make a sarcastic remark or tell me this was why I shouldn’t trust men too easily, she didn’t say a word. The moment she saw me, she linked her arm around mine and took us to a quiet soju bar that specialized in seafood dishes.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why he’s disappeared. I don’t know where he is. Am I being ghosted? Is Phil breaking up with me?”

  Yumi finally spoke. “Were there any warning signs at all? Can you remember what you guys last talked about?”

  I went into my JoaJoa chatroom with Phil and handed Yumi my phone. She scrolled through in silence. Though I would typically be embarrassed about having a friend read my messages, I was far too devastated to be self-conscious.

  “Stella, I’m not sure what to think. You guys were getting along well this week, right? No bickering?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so,” I replied without giving her questions much thought.

  “And he didn’t mention that he had any other plans for today, did he?” Yumi asked.

  “No, he had work yesterday but not today.”

  Yumi and I had already finished a bottle of soju by the time our mussel stew was served. While we ate our stew, she didn’t ask me any further questions.

  “Should we order some more drinks?” I said.

  Yumi replied, “Only if we order more food as well. Do you want to try the stir-fried prawns? Or would you prefer the grilled octopus?”

  “I don’t mind,” I groaned, then added, “Can we have the stir-fried prawns?”

  “Great, let’s order,” Yumi said before she called over the server.

  While we waited for our second dish, I messaged Dana. Although I felt bad for leaving Lil Bottle early, I wasn’t ready to call her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from bawling. After I sent a brief explanation to Dana, I went into my chatroom with Phil. Seeing the default profile icon made my chest tighten. I poured another shot into my mouth.

  “Stella, slow down. You’re drinking way too fast. I can’t have you pass out on the streets. I’m not strong enough to carry you to your dorm.”

  “Yumi, what if he’s out drinking with another girl?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Do you think so? Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

  “I don’t know. I never got that impression, but I never expected him to ghost me either.” I began sobbing.

  Yumi said, “Phil’s a real asshole. You shouldn’t be treated like this.”

  She handed me some paper napkins and I blotted my tears.

  “Stella, has Phil had any ex-girlfriend drama? Have you heard anything, maybe from someone else?”

  “He did mention a messy break-up with an ex-girlfriend,” I divulged.

  “When did they break up? How long has it been?�
� Yumi questioned.

  “I think they broke up a month before he started going out with me.”

  Yumi pursed her lips. “Which means there wasn’t a very long break between the two relationships.”

  “It’s not like he jumped into a new relationship straight after he broke up though. He only spoke of her once because of his friend and didn’t say anything positive about her. I assumed he was totally over her,” I said.

  The server arrived at our table with the stir-fried prawns. Rich with spices, the dish looked and smelled like it would be delicious. Yumi and I stared at the prawns without lifting our chopsticks.

  Yumi let out an exasperated sigh. “A month isn’t a terribly long period to move on from a bad breakup.”

  I couldn’t bear to think about Phil getting back with his ex-girlfriend. Although I’d never seen a single photo of her, I pictured her as a tall and willowy model with glowing skin, a female version of Phil. Would he kiss her the same way he made out with me? Was he admiring her body and telling her she was sexy? Or was I the less important one, seeing as he’d dated her first.

  Then I was reminded of how cruel Phil’s ex-girlfriend had been to him. He didn’t seem like the type to forgive and forget easily, especially considering her family had insulted him using his painful past.

  As Yumi continued to explore the possible reasons for his actions, I thought about his family. His frail mother and younger brother depended on him. Was there a problem concerning them? I couldn’t reveal his family situation to Yumi though; I didn’t want to be responsible for spreading rumors that could affect his reputation as a rising celebrity. Besides, I figured he would tell me if there was a problem involving his family since I was already aware of the major details.

  “Stella, what are you thinking about?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, you could try eating some prawns. They smell divine,” Yumi recommended and popped a large prawn into her mouth.

  Once she pushed the plate over to me, she motioned for me to eat. I laughed, although I still felt awful.

  After I tried eating the dish, I said, “I’m not sure whether he’ll contact me again, but I don’t know how to respond if he does end up reaching out to me. Anyway, how long should I wait to accept that it’s over and I have no hope?”

  “Stella, I can’t tell you whether Phil will reach out to you again, but if he does, don’t believe everything he says. He’s disrespected and betrayed you. Guys who suddenly disappear and stop contacting you should not be trusted.”

  During midterm period, I could barely sleep at night. Not because I was busy with exams and assignments, but because I kept thinking about Phil. When I lay in bed and closed my eyes, I would open them again moments later just to check my phone. I was disappointed each time. Once I heard Dana’s soft snores, I went into the bathroom with my phone and wept as I scrolled through the messages from Phil.

  On the day of my exam for International Political Thought, I burst into tears halfway through writing down my answers. The day after that, I was exhausted as I sat at my desk and tried to finish an essay for Topics in Political Philosophy, even though I hadn’t left my room the entire day. Dana had to drag me to the dorm cafeteria because I’d lost my appetite.

  The worst part was, I continued to worry about him. Although Yumi called Phil an asshole, I wasn’t always convinced I was supposed to be mad at him. Even after Yumi warned me by saying I shouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, I wanted there to have been a terrible misunderstanding. Perhaps he had fallen ill or gotten in an accident. My concern for him made me feel weak and gullible, yet I consoled myself with the possibility of Phil turning up and offering me a solid explanation.

  Eventually, I snapped. Toward the end of midterm week, I walked out of my room carrying a basket full of clothes. As I made my way to the laundry area, I went past the student lounge where a group of girls gathered around the television. One of the girls squealed like a piglet and I froze in shock. I looked over to see if there was a problem but soon realized she was excited. The other girls gasped. Their eyes were transfixed on the television screen. I dropped my laundry basket the instant I saw what they were reacting to.

  “Damn, who is he?”

  “He’s way hotter than the lead.”

  “Why did they only give him three lines?”

  A child actress handed Phil a stack of books. He ruffled her hair and winked at her with a cigar in his mouth. Though he looked different than usual in a newsboy cap and a tweed suit, he was still breathtakingly gorgeous. Then the sepia flashback sequence was over.

  When I returned to my room, I opened my JoaJoa chatroom with Phil. While the short messages I sent him previously were full of desperation, this time, I began to unleash my rage. I was no longer pleading for him to respond. I didn’t ask him where he was or what was going on. Instead, I called him a selfish and immature coward for not giving me closure. Once I started typing out the words, I couldn’t hold back. As I rapidly tapped the phone screen with my fingers, I didn’t bother to correct any misspellings. I accused him of being a stuck-up prick who thought he was going to be too famous for me, as well as a cheater for going back to his ex-girlfriend. Since he didn’t explain himself to me, I decided he was guilty of everything I could think of.

  An hour later, my emotions switched. I felt antsy and couldn’t refrain from pouring my heart out, revealing to him that I could hardly sleep or focus on my exams. I told him I loved how he made me feel so special when we were on our dates and added that I could never forget those precious moments. In the end, I begged him to just let me know what happened, even if he had no intention of ever seeing me again. After I wrote this final message, I pulled my blanket over my head and cried for hours. The next morning, I saw that he had read what I sent him. I didn’t get a reply.

  To cope with the frustration, I called Yumi.

  I asked her, “Do you think Phil ghosted me because of his career, seeing as he’s on television now?”

  “Stella, didn’t you say Phil only got three lines? He was basically an extra. He’s not exactly a household name, though I wonder if any online tabloids have posted articles about him.”

  Yumi was silent for a minute.

  I said nervously, “What are you doing? You don’t have to look him up.”

  She replied, “I’ll stop. I already found some articles. Hang on, let me send you a link.”

  After my phone call with Yumi ended, I went into my JoaJoa chatroom with her. Once I clicked on the link to an article on Phil’s television drama debut as a model-turned-actor, I scrolled down to the comments section. Although there were only a few comments, they were all overwhelmingly positive. The most popular comment, which had 185 likes, praised his good looks and proclaimed that he was going to become a major star.

  As I tried to distract myself by flicking through other articles, I saw a headline on the engagement announcement of Suhyun Seo, one of the heirs to the conglomerate S&F Group. Since I remembered what the girls from Latin Dance had said about Taehyun and the S&F Group, I clicked on the article. When an image of the newly engaged couple popped up, I spent a while staring at their faces. They both looked familiar. While Suhyun and Taehyun Seo shared similar facial features, seeing as they were related, I couldn’t figure out where I might’ve seen Suhyun’s fiancé before.

  From skimming through the article, I discovered that Suhyun Seo was engaged to Sora Park, an MBA student at Chicago Booth. Instead of marrying from within the community of conglomerates, Suhyun met his girlfriend while they were both undergraduates at West Seoul University. The article briefly alluded to Taehyun, mentioning at the end that Suhyun’s younger brother was currently in his final year at the university.

  When I arrived at Latin Dance in the afternoon, there were a million thoughts running through my mind.

  Professor Hwang approached me and asked, “Stella, have you asked anyone to be your dance partner for the midterm performance?”

>   “No, not yet,” I replied, wondering if she was going to reprimand me.

  “Fantastic,” Professor Hwang said with a relieved sigh.

  I stared at her, confused. There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in her voice.

  Professor Hwang added, “Okay, Stella, I would like to pair you with Taehyun for the rest of the semester. As you can see, Miso isn’t here today. When she fell over during our last class, she fractured her ankle. So Taehyun needs a new partner as Miso can’t dance with him. I’m not sure how I’ll get her to participate in the course when she’s injured. Anyhow, that’s not something you need to worry about.”

  I nodded in response, then went over to Taehyun. As the weather warmed up, he had forgone wearing his usual button-up shirts. Instead, he wore a white T-shirt that accentuated his impressive biceps and square shoulders.

  “Hi, Stella,” he said in his deep, gentle voice. “I guess we’re partners again.”

  As we stretched with Professor Hwang and the rest of our class, I couldn’t help but look at Taehyun’s reflection in the mirror. The other students also seemed to be sneaking a glance at him, even the guys. Although he had great posture, I presumed they were drawn to the sight of his toned arms.

  When Taehyun reached out to hold my hand, I was surprised by how warm his palms were. Though not much had changed about his appearance, I found him even more attractive than before as I stood close to him. From his defined jawline to his mysterious gaze, he was undoubtedly handsome in a way that exuded masculinity. As I danced together with him, I could hardly focus on the music. My stomach was in knots.

  However, I started to wonder if I was using my attraction toward Taehyun to get over the ordeal involving Phil. When my heart skipped a beat as Taehyun’s eyes met mine, I felt a little guilty. There hadn’t been any closure with Phil, and I spent the past week longing for him, so I wasn’t sure how to process the way Taehyun was making me feel.