The Beginning of a New Life
What lay before me was a test paper. Flipping through it, I saw two or three questions per subject. Ah-hyun handed me a pencil and said there was no time limit, so I could take as long as I needed.
There weren't many questions, but the level and difficulty were considerable. Still, they weren't impossible to solve — the problem was that the direction of my gaze as I stared down at the paper led straight to Ah-hyun's thighs. She was quite tall, probably around 170cm, and while her chest was large, unlike my mother or sister — who were slender despite their curves — Ah-hyun's figure struck me as unmistakably glamorous. Her bursting thighs pulled at her tight short skirt from both sides. I'd gone through an all-boys middle and high school and had never so much as held a girl's hand. What's more, Ah-hyun sitting in front of me was the prettiest woman I'd ever spoken to in my life, after my mother. In that sealed room, with her sweet scent drifting faintly through the air, there was no way I could concentrate on the questions.
When a good deal of time had passed and I still hadn't finished, Ah-hyun spoke up.
"It says here your goal is medical school. Is that right?"
"Yes..."
"Going by your usual mock exam scores, you should have finished questions this easy long before now..."
Ah-hyun still hadn't lost her playful smile. Staring straight into my eyes, she spoke again.
"Is something distracting you?"
"Sorry?"
"Are my legs that distracting?"
"No, that's not it..."
I flustered and scrambled to make excuses, but nothing came to mind. Ah-hyun just laughed.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to scold you. It was set up that way on purpose — so you couldn't help but be distracted."
What did she mean, set up?
"Wonjoong, do you have any sexual experience?"
"Sorry?"
"Sexual experience. Broadly speaking — have you ever had any kind of sexual relationship with a woman?"
"..."
It was the first time I'd ever discussed anything like this with a woman, and I had no idea how to respond. After all, the only women I'd ever really talked to, aside from my mother and sister, were my schoolteachers — and teachers never asked questions like that.
"It's a somewhat important question, so I'd appreciate an honest answer. It doesn't have to be sex — a kiss, or even just holding hands, would count. Any experience of physical contact?"
"None..."
"How often do you masturbate?"
"I'm sorry — what?"
Once again, a word I never expected to hear from a woman's mouth — especially not in a place like this — came flying out.
"Masturbation. How often do you do it?"
"..."
"Is it hard to answer?"
"Two or three times a week, maybe..."
Hearing that, Ah-hyun studied me with probing eyes. Apparently the content of my answer didn't matter — it was obvious what I was going to say anyway. She seemed to be examining my attitude in giving it.
"Sexual desire... for boys your age especially, it's an enormous obstacle in every way. When you need to focus completely on something for a long stretch of time, lust interrupts constantly, without warning. But if you can learn to control it, sexual desire can become an incredibly powerful source of energy. You said you masturbate two or three times a week — can you tell me under what circumstances?"
"What do you mean, circumstances?"
"In what situations, for what reasons, do you do it?"
"Well, I've never really thought about it..."
"You just do it whenever the urge strikes, don't you?"
"I guess so."
"Most people do. But you shouldn't. You mustn't hand yourself the reward of pleasure whenever you feel like it. You should reward yourself only when you've achieved something — and that reward shouldn't be something as small as touching your own body with your own hand. It needs to be a very great reward."
What on earth was a very great reward?
"MF is a place that makes use of exactly that principle. Truly exceptional people figure it out on their own, without anyone teaching them. But many students fail to use it well, and giving yourself a great reward isn't easy at your age in particular — so we help a little. I don't know yet whether you'll be admitted, Wonjoong, but even if we don't end up together, I hope you'll put into practice what I've told you today."
And with that, the interview was over. All told, it was a short one — not even twenty minutes. As I left the interview room and followed a staff member toward the waiting area, Ah-hyun's sweet voice, her soft scent, and those snow-white thighs refused to leave my head. What in the world could a 'very great reward' be?
Drinks and snacks were laid out in the waiting room. There was a small booklet too, but it contained nothing but admissions information — nothing related to what Ah-hyun had just told me. My parents' interview took far longer than mine; it was about an hour before they returned to the waiting room. Both of them looked grim and said nothing. Their eyes were even red and swollen, as if they'd been crying, and my mother's usually neat hair seemed somehow a little disheveled. I wanted to ask what had happened, but the atmosphere was too heavy. I just assumed the interview hadn't gone well — that something like the fees hadn't worked out — and figured getting into this academy would be difficult after all. I was disappointed that I wouldn't be seeing Yoon Ah-hyun again. It was much later that I learned just how extraordinary that day's interviews had been — my mother's above all.
About a month later, the acceptance notice arrived by text message. A few days after that, the dormitory move-in date and various precautions came by post. I was privately overjoyed, but somehow I couldn't show it — because my parents didn't seem particularly happy about the acceptance either. I just told myself it was only a cram school acceptance, not a university admission. What was there to celebrate?
Then, a few days later, my parents and I drove to the academy. A single suitcase held all my things. It was the first time in my life I'd be leaving home to live elsewhere. From that morning, my mother's eyes brimmed with tears, and she kept checking over and over whether I'd forgotten anything. There were two suitcases loaded into the trunk. One belonged to my parents — they said that after dropping me at the dormitory, they would go on a trip together, just the two of them, for the first time in ages. It stung a little that they'd leave on a trip the very day I moved out, but part of me was glad too — it felt like they could finally enjoy some time of their own.
And yet, in the car heading to the academy, my parents didn't say a single word to each other.
The academy sat deep in the mountains; apart from the road leading to it, not a single man-made thing was visible. I was just thinking it seemed strange for a school to be this remote when the academy appeared. A high wall surrounded it, and the large main gate was closed. Only three buildings could be seen from outside. When my father showed the documents to a guard who emerged from the gatehouse, the gate opened. The move-in time was written down precisely, with a firm instruction to observe it strictly, so I'd expected crowds of other students arriving at the same hour — but strangely, apart from my family, there was no one at all.
Just inside the main gate, a man was waiting for us. I got out of the car and pulled my suitcase from the trunk with my father. My mother was already greeting the man. As I dragged the suitcase closer, he introduced himself to my father and me as well. He was the dormitory proctor, he said, and his name was Yoo Chan-hyeong. He looked to be in his early forties — about the same age as my parents.
But something about the way my parents and the proctor behaved was off. In a situation like this, parents would normally fuss over their child — please take good care of our son — and force a warm, cheerful atmosphere. My mother always did when meeting my schoolteachers. But my father merely gave a small nod and said hardly anything, while the proctor's gaze was fixed solely on my mother. When she said, "Please take good care of our Wonjoong from now on," the proctor reached out his own hand — even though she hadn't offered hers — took my mother's hand, and said, "No, the pleasure is mine." And then he held her hand for an unnaturally long time, caressing it, almost. My mother pulled her hand away with visible discomfort and glanced at my father, who was frowning as he stared off into the distance. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was going on.
After that came our farewell. My mother stroked my cheek and, on the verge of tears, said all the motherly things — work hard, take care of your health, eat properly. My father, still frowning at the far horizon, only clapped me on the shoulder and said a single line: "You have to fight like your life depends on it."
After my parents' car passed back out through the main gate, I dragged my suitcase and followed the proctor toward the dormitory. Of the three buildings visible from the gate, the one on the left was the dormitory. The building facing us head-on was the main hall, where classes were held, and the one on the right, he said, was called the Annex. What the Annex was used for, I had no idea.
The dormitory was a five-story building. The enrollment was said to be 150 students, but the building looked almost excessively large for 150 people to live in. First we headed to the room where I would be living. It was on the second floor, right beside the elevator and the stairs — not a great location. But the interior was superb. More than a dormitory, it was a room so spacious and fine that, if anything, you could call it a hotel room. And it was a single, all to myself. After setting down my suitcase, I trailed after the proctor on a tour of the first floor and basement facilities. There was a cafeteria and a study hall, of course, and even a sauna and a fitness center. Honestly, it was the finest environment I had ever lived in up to that point. Quite a few students who had already moved in were wandering around. When the tour ended, the proctor told me I was free to go anywhere and use any facility inside the dormitory, but that I must absolutely never leave the grounds — if I was caught wandering outside, I could face expulsion.
The proctor was kind, cheerful, and easy to like — but for some reason, I found I couldn't bring myself to like him. Because that scene earlier with my mother had felt, to me, like nothing so much as my mother being sexually harassed by him.