The glass doors of Gate 5 at Incheon International Airport slid open every thirty seconds, releasing a fresh wave of weary travelers into the buzzing arrivals hall.
Mrs. Lee stood right at the front barrier, bouncing slightly on her toes. She was holding a neatly hand-drawn sign written in bold black marker:
[ 환영합니다! WELCOME! OLEKSANDR MOTUZENKO ]
Beside her, Mr. Lee adjusted his glasses, looking every bit like a warm, distinguished host father straight out of an exchange program brochure.
Behind them, Lee Ha-neul stood in her pristine Kirin Arts High uniform, leaning against a metal pillar and typing frantically on her smartphone. She was checking the latest updates on Kirin's Secret while casually ignoring her mother's relentless, nervous pacing.
"Eun-seok-ah, calm down," Mr. Lee murmured with a gentle, reassuring smile. "His flight landed thirty minutes ago. He still has to go through customs and baggage claim."
"I know, I know!" Mrs. Lee gasped, adjusting the sign in her hands. "It's just... sixteen hours on an airplane all by himself! Poor boy must be completely exhausted!"
Ha-neul didn't even look up from her screen. She had spent the entire week listening to her mother fret over duvet thread counts, Ukrainian dietary preferences, and room temperature settings. In her mind, she had pictured some polished, impeccably styled European trainee stepping off the plane. Of course she knew it wouldn't be like that since she examined his photo a couple of times and saw the video of him.
"There!" Mrs. Lee suddenly gasped, grabbing her husband's arm. "Is that him?!"
Ha-neul finally raised her head.
Pushing a heavy metal luggage cart through the sliding doors was a towering, broad-shouldered teenager standing nearly 190 centimeters tall. He had an acoustic guitar case slung over his shoulder that wobbled precariously with every step, a wrinkled casual shirt, and a thick mop of dark hair that had been completely flattened on one side by sixteen hours of heavy headphone use.
He was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, scanning the sea of faces with wide, thoroughly overwhelmed dark eyes.
"Aigoo! You are here! Oleksandr!" Mrs. Lee called out, her face instantly illuminating with a blinding, motherly smile as she waved the sign high.
The tall boy froze, his head snapping toward them. He pushed his cart forward, looking like a nervous giant trying desperately to appear casual.
"Uh... Annyeong haseyo?" he stammered in hesitant, careful Korean.
"Welcome! Welcome to Korea! I am Lee Eun-seok, your host mother!" Mrs. Lee cheered, stepping straight past the barrier to grab his arm with immediate, unreserved warmth.
Mr. Lee stepped forward, offering a formal, polite bow. "Lee Min-hyuk. Welcome to our home."
The boy clumsily attempted to return the bow, his guitar case nearly smacking into his luggage cart in the process. "Nice to meet you," he said, nodding his head carefully. "You can call me 'San'... as in 'mountain'."
Ha-neul's dark, intelligent eyes swept over him from head to toe. She evaluated the messy hair, the wrinkled shirt, the wobbly guitar case, and the sheer, awkward length of his limbs.
A sudden, unbidden flicker of amusement and slight resignation passed through her mind. This is the exchange student? He looks like a chaotic Ukrainian bear.
Mrs. Lee nudged Ha-neul's shoulder.
"This is our daughter, Ha-neul! She goes to your school. She will take good care of you!"
Ha-neul offered a small, flawless, one-millisecond nod, her posture instantly shifting into her signature, cool demeanor.
"Hi," she said in flawless, unaccented English.
Then, looking him straight in the eye, she added with deadpan honesty: "I thought you would be more handsome..."
Mr. Lee immediately poked Ha-neul sharply in the back with his finger, shooting her a warning glare.
"Meh," Ha-neul muttered, shifting her weight. "Your flight was okay?"
San blinked, looking like the absolute least cool person on earth as his pre-rehearsed heroic greeting completely dissolved.
Uh. Yeah. It was... long," he stammered.
"It's always long," Ha-neul sighed. She turned toward her mother, switching back to rapid-fire Korean. "Omma, can we go? I have to study."
Mrs. Lee just laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed the handle of San's luggage cart.
"Aigoo, this girl! Always studying! Let's go, San-gun! You must be starving!"
Five minutes later, they reached the VIP parking deck.
Ha-neul watched out of the corner of her eye as San sank into the plush backseat of their black 2015 Hyundai Genesis sedan. The moment the heavy door shut with a solid, luxurious whoosh, the boy's eyes widened slightly as he took in the cool leather interior and the glowing starship-like digital dashboard.
"Aigoo, San-gun, you must be so tired!" Mrs. Lee chatted happily, twisting around from the front passenger seat. "The flight is terrible, isn't it? But we have to go right to the school! It's the first day of the second semester, you know? There's a big ceremony! You'll meet everyone!"
"Ah, ye, Eomeonim," San managed, focusing hard to keep up with her rapid Korean. "I'm okay."
"Eun-seok, jagiya," Mr. Lee chuckled softly, navigating the Genesis onto the main airport highway. "Let the boy breathe. He just landed."
"Oh, and your uniform!" Mrs. Lee continued, completely ignoring her husband. "It's not ready, the tailor needs your measurements. It's okay! We'll tell Ms. Choi. You'll just be... special... for the first week!"
Beside him in the backseat, Ha-neul let out a soft, exasperated sigh at her mother's endless chatter. She looked over at San—he was staring out the tinted window in utter, speechless awe as the car crossed the sprawling steel expanse of the Mapo Bridge over the shimmering Han River, the massive golden facade of the 63 Building and the Seoul skyline piercing the hazy morning sky.
He looked completely entranced, as if he had just stepped into a science-fiction movie.
Ha-neul unzipped her Kirin backpack, pulling out a blank plastic pin-on name tag and a black fine-tip marker.
"Here," she said in flat, pragmatic Korean, holding them out to him. "Write your name. So the teachers don't yell at you."
San took them with clumsy, giant hands. He carefully wrote his chosen name in neat Hangul characters: 산 (San).
He pinned it to his wrinkled casual shirt.
Ha-neul glanced at it, raising one perfect eyebrow.
"Just 'San'? Like... 'mountain'?"
"Yes," San said, his voice a little hoarse. "It's... easy. My real name is long."
Ha-neul gave a tiny, nonchalant shrug.
"It's... simple, I guess."