There’s various sounds in this city that mildly remind her of New York.
The buzz of traffic along the streets is one, a notably familiar one that really, will easily be found in any populated city’s downtown area. The only real difference is that, there’s less road rage in Seoul, and the few bits that are thrown, are obviously, in Korean, and not in English. The second essence that’s painstakingly close to her home is the intertwining aromas of the street, ranging from the garbage cans in the alleyways to the various scents of freshly-made food, such as kimchi, bulgogi, rice cakes, ramyun noodles, all coming from the vendors that were sprinkled throughout the sidewalks. The presence of grand buildings that stretch god-knows how far up are also quite similar to her home city, but she notes that they’re much shorter compared to any Empire-State-Building type she knew of. No, not at all.
In the end, this city wasn’t at all the Concrete Jungle she knew like the back of her hand, but here she was either way. Eighteen years old, Hana Lee roams the streets of Seoul, with perhaps, enough KRW to help her survive for a few days, if she made sure to stay on a budget. She’s carrying her school backpack, that’s full of clothing, personal hygiene materials, her CD player along with CDs to actually put in the thing, a small teddy bear that her brother had given her, and a blanket. As for her clothing, she has red Chuck Taylors on her feet, a pair of black sweats on, with a dark purple zip-up hoodie, her favorite snapback on backwards and a pair of dark sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. She’s doing her best not to seem like such a tourist, or foreigner. Which, in reality, wasn’t all too difficult — she was Korean, after all. Well, Korean-American, if she were to be precise.
Either way, she was already here, a lone teenager in search of a place to stay for a while. Funny. She herself didn’t even know how long ‘a while’ consisted of. As long as it took for the bruises along her side, the semi-fresh cuts at the base of her neck and shoulder to heal. When she looked back on it, she thought it was a bit astonishing — how quickly she’d gone from head-over-heels in love with Lee Chiwon, to suddenly, afraid and submissive, not even one to look her own boyfriend in the eye anymore. Some part in her conscience, she knew it was wrong of her to stay with him. She knew it was extremely unhealthy on her part, taking both the physical and mental abuse, day after day. It was terribly wrong, but she didn’t necessarily budge because, the other part of her knew. Even if he’s the one that initially put her in her specific...occupation, he loved her, and he hadn’t always like this. Although he has his moments, he ends up apologizing now and then and treats her like...a jewel. And, apart from that, he knew her extremely well, and knew how to deal with her. That, among many other reasons, was why she stayed.
The young woman stops mid-thought once a familiar pang rises in her stomach, gurgling to signify one of the basic actions of the human body that are given to aid in survival: hunger. Glancing around with monochrome eyes full of confusion and curiosity, she eventually spots a small café a few shops ahead, and she’s full of happiness for those few seconds, the thought of food stealing away the previous war she had in her mind.
Once she walks in, she immediately feels like some sort of outcast, the place lively with people of all ages speaking Korean without a flaw while she, herself, could only pick up a few key words and sentences, but was extremely rough on the language, having been used to pure English. Hana bites on her lower lip and fiddles with her thumbs nervously, and after a few minutes of no hostess coming to greet her, she just assumes it’s a free-for-all and makes her way to a lone seat by the window, plopping down and finally taking the backpack off her shoulders, the first time in the whole day. Nimble fingers rub at her temples, and she sighs, a frown forming on her graceful features.
❝ What did you get yourself into, Lee... ❞
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