HANSUNG UNIVERSITY.

student name : angel jimenez de leon. preferred name : angel jimenez. date of birth : 06/02/1997. occupation : student, intern.

     enrollment status.

program : b.a. in sociology. status : sophomore. clubs : none. sports : soccer. housing : off-campus.

     student history.

THIS IS A LEGAL TRANSCRIPTION ON CALL.

PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS PHONE CALL MAY BE RECORDED AND STORED FOR QUALITY CONTROL AND TRAINING PURPOSES.

FARROKHZAD LAW GROUP: Hello, thank you for calling Farrokhzad Law Group offices. What can I do for you today?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Hello?

FLG: Hello.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: What did you say your name was?

FLG: My name is Catherine Pfeiffer. What can I do for you today?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I’m calling from jail.

CATHERINE PFEIFFER: I see. That’s rather unfortunate, I can’t imagine what your family and friends must be feeling right now.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Well, I got arrested for sending a man to ICU.

CATHERINE PFEIFFER: That must be hard for your loved ones.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Catherine, I need a fucking lawyer. Can you do that for me? I’m in jail, another person’s blood has seeped into my shirt and I have one call. Can you please do that for me?

CATHERINE PFEIFFER: What I’m grasping at from our conversation is that you’d like to speak to a lawyer?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: What the fuck—did I just not ask for one?

CATHERINE PFEIFFER: My apologies, I was only trying to clarify your concerns because your value is highly important to us. I will transfer your inquiries to an attorney who should be able to assist you immediately on your issue. Please hold.

[ROYALTY FREE SMOOTH JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS FOR NO MORE THAN A MINUTE]

FLG: Mr. Juarez, thank you for waiting patiently on hol—

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Jimenez.

FLG: My apologies sir. Yes, that’s right, Mr. Jimenez. I’ll be mindful of that so I won’t mistakenly address you the next time.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Thanks.

FLG: My name is Thomas Hughes, and I will be your representative this morning. I understand that you’re dialing from jail.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Yes, I told Catherine.

THOMAS HUGHES: Good. I just need to go over a few things first as your legal provider. I was informed that you’ve been arrested for assault and battery, correct?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Yeah, yeah—

THOMAS HUGES: —And the victim got sent to intensive care unit, yes?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Victim? What victim?

THOMAS HUGHES: The man you claimed to have assaulted. The one sitting up in the hospital strung to tubes.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: You didn’t even get to hear the whole story. Do you hear yourself jumping the gun? Already choosing sides, naming them even. You hear my voice and already know—I’m the bad guy. It’s my voice and my name—

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez—

ANGEL JIMENEZ: It’s always the same shit with you fucking people. You hear the accent and glance at the caller ID and somehow it’s enough to feed into your preconceptions before I could get a word out. Man, don’t fucking play with me you hear?

THOMAS HUGHES: …

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Speak, Tommy boy.

THOMAS HUGHES: My apologies, Mr. Jimenez—

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Quit fucking apologizing and do your damn job. In this case, listen to me. Listen to me like a man and not just another one of your fucking clients, Tommy.

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez, I’m listening.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Jesus Christ. Anywho, yeah. I beat the shit out of him and he decided to press charges at the hospital. So now I’m here, during spring break, in jail, with one call.

THOMAS HUGHES: Understood. Were you or any loved ones involved hurt?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Why would I hurt the people I love? Thomas, do you beat your mother? Hit your girlfriends? Bruise your friends, or lovers?

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez—

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I don’t hurt the people that I love in my life. That man in the hospital, I didn’t love him. I don’t love him, I don’t owe him that kind of sentiment.

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez, please, are you hurt?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: No. My knuckles are sore but that’s just about it.

THOMAS HUGHES: Good, thanks. Just a few more questions, have you been to a chiropractor?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I said my knuckles were sore. I don’t need to get my spine readjusted.

THOMAS HUGHES: Thank you, Mr. Jimenez. Now, you mentioned love and its complete absence for this man. Do you have any relations with him?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: He’s my mother’s husband. My stepdad. A good for nothing, shit eating, hijo de puta—

THOMAS HUGHES: Very well. Now—

ANGEL JIMENEZ: —Piece of shit man. And I hit him so hard, I’m going to wake up everyday and pray he’ll lose his hearing on the right side of his head. I got him good. So good, he didn’t even see it coming. When I had hit him, I think he saw visions of God. Maybe he knew his time was up. If my mother didn’t pull me off of him I would’ve continued. Again, and again, and again. And again. I would’ve beat him until he became one with the Earth. Left to disintegrate.

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez, what could have he possibly done to have deserved this?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I will tell you. Though you must stop humanizing him, even in your head.

THOMAS HUGHES: I am not.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I was only trying to protect my mom.

THOMAS HUGHES: From him?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Yes—are you dumb? I’m in jail during spring break because I love my mother—are you fucking dumb? He tried to make her do things she didn’t feel like doing while they slept in the same bed together. Sometimes he’d get mad at her, and hit her. He blames it on his PTSD from the war in Vietnam.

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez, that’s coercion—with domestic violence included.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: On the same line as assault, yes. I don’t know how many times he did this to her, my mother won’t communicate to me but I know it’s gotta be one too many times. I feel sad for her. I feel angered, repulsed, sad, and horrified for her that if they let me go this instance, I’m afraid I’d go back and kill this man. I would lose everything I have built for myself, but I would do it. Believe me.

THOMAS HUGHES: I acknowledge and appreciate your honesty, Mr. Jimenez. And I believe you, full-heartedly. However, what would you lose? Wouldn’t you just earn the love and safety your mother would’ve given you, as twisted the situation is?

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Well, Thomas, I’m nineteen. You probably remember when you were nineteen, right? At nineteen, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I go to a good university making my mother proud, doing all the things she wished she could’ve done if not a woman and in her home country. But now I sit here, as the sun sets and I mourn my mother’s protection with blood under my nails.

THOMAS HUGHES: I doubt you’ll remain in prison for life. Maybe do a couple years, months if you’re lucky. It won’t take the years off your face. That much, I can promise you.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I suppose.

THOMAS HUGHES: Tell me Mr. Jimenez, are you scared? The system doesn’t shelter the best interests of a woman’s abuser.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: That’s real fucking sad. Pathetic.

THOMAS HUGHES: You didn’t answer my question. Mr. Jimenez, are you scared?

ANGEL JIMINEZ: Scared of what? Losing against court?

THOMAS HUGHES: Yes.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But it’s not even about winning or losing anymore—or, maybe a little. I didn‘t think about it when I was in ‘cuffs, I just thought this was it for me and I made peace with it.

THOMAS HUGHES: Hmm.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: I’m so young, I don’t deserve these scars, Thomas. The trouble that’s about to haunt me, I don’t deserve it—I’m scared, I’m so scared. My own and my mother’s fear, combined. Though none of it matters, I’ve decided. In my own right I did what I could. It’s up to me to stand by it.

THOMAS HUGHES: I see. I understand.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Is there any truth in your words? Faithfully. I am asking you now.

THOMAS HUGHES: Mr. Jimenez—I want to help you. Let me help you.

ANGEL JIMENEZ: Then help me. Do as you say and not as you will.

THOMAS HUGHES: Therefore, I appreciate your call this morning, Mr. Jimenez, and I gravely understand your situation. I will further this case by contacting other individuals involved in your arrest and hope to connect with a follow up. Thank you and have a nice day.

student name : lim seona. preferred name : sunny. date of birth : 05/26/1999. occupation : student, barista.

     enrollment status.

program : b.s. in biology. status : first year. clubs : green sleeves (publicity officer). sports : none. housing : e-house / floor 1, unit 2.

     student history.

sunny, born lim seona, was born in a small town outside of busan, south korea. parental illness & death tw / she grew up in a loving home with her parents for about six eight years until her mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died about nine months later. / tw end

sunny’s father couldn’t really handle the death of his wife and taking care of a child all by himself, and turned to substance abuse, so sunny was left to her own devices most of the time, even taking care of her father when it was necessary. she would walk to school and steal money from his wallet to buy groceries when he was sleeping, do her own laundry, all before she was in middle school.

her father ended up passing away a few years after her mother and she was adopted by her grandmother. sunny unfortunately was very grateful that this happened in some way because now she could focus on being a kid again but had lost a lot of the sense security in her life.

she did relatively well in school grades wise, especially going to a much smaller high school with about a hundred in her class. with the lack of social activities to do around her town, her main hobby was smoking weed, besides her relatively normal hobby of skating and long boarding.

she began going to busan and even seoul sometimes to find the perfect dealers to sell to her. after awhile, she began growing her own plants in the greenhouse behind her house, which was pretty secluded and highly top secret. (only her grandmother knew.)

sunny began becoming interested in cross breeding plants to find new strains with different affects and that would change flavors to the plants and doing a lot of research about biology of plants and genetics.

student name : ahn yumi. preferred name : yumi. date of birth : 12/13/1996. occupation : student, influencer.

     enrollment status.

program : b.a. in broadcasting & entertainment. status : sophomore. clubs : yongmaru (publicity officer). sports : none. housing : off-campus.

     student history.

keep your chin up. push your shoulders back. smile for the camera.

ahn yumi was born in dallas, texas but she doesn’t call that place home. her mother and father split when she was five years old, and she moved to korea with her father after the divorce. 

 unfortunately, her father was barely at home. when she was young, he would often leave her with his parents to look after her. however, as yumi got older, she stayed home, practically having to raise herself. 

although she acknowledges his absence was due to him working hard to provide yumi a comfortable life, she holds a grudge. there were too many moments he missed that she just couldn't get over. 

after high school, she rebelled against her father's wishes. he wanted her to go and study at a prestigious university, but instead yumi decided not to go to college and pursue modeling. she had a desire to be famous; to finally be seen. 

although yumi found some success at first shooting pictorials, her height proved to be the deciding factor in why she wasn’t cast in runway shows. while she is taller than the average korean woman, she isn't tall enough to walk the runway for major brands. 

it frustrated her pretty much always being turned away for castings. so yumi worked odd jobs for a while before putting her talents to use and opening up an instagram and youtube dedicated to fashion and life. she effectively became an influencer, and even though that paid the bills for a while, she decided she wanted to be more than just a pretty face. 

student name : choi eunpyo. preferred name : louis “lou” choi. date of birth : 02/01/2002. occupation : student, e-sports player.

     enrollment status.

program : b.s. in computer science. status : sophomore. clubs : international student organization. sports : none. housing : e-house / floor 2, unit 2.

     student history.

student name : sakai yukiko. preferred name : yukiko. date of birth : 10/12/2001. occupation : full-time student.

     enrollment status.

program : b.a. in animation. status : sophomore. clubs : none. sports : cheerleading (captain). housing : off-campus.

     student history.

Kyoto, october. On a little street in the higashiyama district, a young couple brings home the little girl they never wanted. It’s not the premise of not wanting children, they always insisted. It was barely making ends meet with the two of them-- tourism just wasn’t what it used to be in their parent’s days and their restaurant was dying.

But that didn’t mean yukiko was loved any less.

It just meant that she had to work harder, longer, prove something.

It wasn’t that her parents didn’t love her-- they did. They loved her so much.

It was just that when she brought home top scores, shiny awards, proud recognition, they seemed to love her just a little more.

And yukiko has always only craved love.

Love and perfection.

It comes out in her school work, in her work at home, in her extracurriculars-- all that she could squeeze into her already busy day. It was all that she could do.

It was all that she did.

And when that acceptance from one of the most prestigious tokyo universities came, she swore her parents couldn’t love her any more.

But the problem with moving away, accessible, but away, is that love quickly grew suffocating. Visits every weekend when she was trying oh so hard to cultivate a social life in between all of her activities became the bane of her life. She loved her parents, but sometimes she wonders if she loves them as much as they love her-- or her achievements.

The only solution, in the over-active and overachieving brain of yukiko, was to run.

Became less accessible.

And so she landed herself in korea-- not at a top university like she thought, but a low rate, barely cutting it version of that.

student name : im sehun. preferred name : sehun. date of birth : 11/04/1996. occupation : student, part-timer.

     enrollment status.

program : b.a. in journalism. status : senior. clubs : hansung times (president). sports : basketball. housing : y-house / floor 1, unit 3.

     student history.

no matter what he does, sehun feels like he never quite gets the smell of sesame oil out of his hair. the most terrifying realization was when he buried his face in his pillow, the deafening concert of the cicadas blaring through the window as he recognized the same smell in his linen pillow case. from then on he stopped dropping his aching body onto his bed right after his shift at the restaurant, even though every weary bone yearned for the comfort of the mattress. instead, he let the burning hot shower stream perform a factory reset on him, his brain idle but somehow running at 100 miles per hour simultaneously.

roaring laughter was what he earned from his father whenever he claimed soju to taste bitter. “it’s sweet! you’ll get used to the taste,“ was the standard answer and sehun learned better than to disagree. the fault did not lie in the clear liquor. the sweetest strawberries, the most sour gummies, the richest red wine, the spiciest chicken - they all left a bitter taste on his tongue.

the same bitterness seethed in his gastric acid whenever he heard his friends speak about the college entrance exams. there was no vocabulary poignant enough to convey his envy when they voiced their complaints over tough practice questions, late hours at the hakwon and the carpal tunnel all the writing had given them. “it doesn’t have to be snu,“ he begged his parents. any university would have been fine, he would have moved to daegu if necessary, the tuition at daegu national university was affordable. his pleas fell on deaf ears, the answer was always a firm no. blood, sweat and tears had been poured into the family restaurant and all three im children had to carry their weight. it had to stay within the family, not given to someone who would run it into the ground, but someone who knows it inside out.

when his friends frequented the restaurant and threatened to empty out the entire soju stock in one evening, sehun cooked with his lips tightly pressed shut. they did not smell like sesame oil, they smelled like the ink on their hands. he must have been warped into some sick and twisted alternative universe, one where every korean parent urged their child to attend the best university of the country except for his own. they cared little for the grades on his report card, it was more important that he learned the cash register system or the secret recipe for their kimchi jeon.

sehun did not hate the place. the two moons was decently popular enough among locals to have regulars and interesting enough for tourists to frequent and take pictures for their instagram account. hell, perhaps he would have studied business and management and taken over the restaurant at one point anyway. but he could not help but see a metaphor in the way he routinely poured leftover samgyetang from a guest who did not finish his meal down the drain. wasted efforts.

funnily enough it was the indifference towards his academic success that fueled the fire within him, as if challenged to prove himself. one year later than his friends he took the college entrance exam. his handwriting was nearly unintelligible thanks to his shaking hand, not out of fear of getting something wrong, but out of fear he might actually pass. with a ringing in his earss and stars in his vision he read the congratulatory letter, somehow feeling like this confession was even worse than that one time he accidentally kicked a ball through the neighbor’s window.

after his last shift, he scrubbed his skin until it turned red and washed his scalp to the point of a headache to get rid of the sesame oil smell. the news were not taken well and he blocked out his mother’s wailing as he packed his bags for seoul. mother’s wailing, father’s huff, brother’s remarks, sister’s hissing. no one accompanied him to the train station, no one bid him farewell. perhaps it was better this way, a first step to get used to the loneliness, to the quiet and the unknown.

“you’re so idealistic it’s almost childish,” was his brother’s snide commentary about his chosen major. maybe it was ridiculous to assume sehun could change the world with incisive, ruthless journalism, but someone in this family had to strive for something bigger. hansung revealed an unknown side to him, one he was almost scared to uncover. when he used to stand over the stove stoically, watching the broth in the pot simmer with expressionless eyes, he now found his passion in debating, in team sports, in assignments and presentation. and yet, oddly enough, laughter has become less frequent, he cannot remember the last time he laughed until he ran out of breath. some days he gives it his al, stays late at the study hall till everyone btu the janitor has left, sometimes he is barely mentally present, plagued with a bad conscience over leaving home. he is unhappy with either.