L.I.A: Two worlds apart

2

CHAPTER 2

DAYO POV

I woke up before my alarm, lying still for a few seconds while the early light pushed through the curtains.

Seoul.

L.I.A.

The uniform.

I sat up slowly and rubbed my face with one hand.

Today I had to actually go there.

I got dressed in silence, moving more carefully than usual like that would somehow slow down what was waiting for me outside. The uniform still felt unfamiliar when I put it on again, but not as strange as yesterday.

For me, it wasn’t. I checked the time.

I had to leave soon.

My hand tightened slightly around the edge of the desk before I forced myself to move.

Bag. Check.

Uniform. On.

ID. In pocket.

The elevator ride down felt longer than it should have. The hotel lobby was already active, people checking out, dragging luggage, speaking in languages I only half-understood.

I stepped outside.

The air was colder than yesterday morning.

I pulled my phone out almost immediately.

There was a message.

From my mother.

You’re already up?
 Don’t forget to eat before you go.
 And call me after your first day.

I stared at it for a second.

Then typed.

I will.

I paused.

Added nothing else.

Sent it.

The reply came almost instantly.

I’m serious, Dayo.

I smiled, I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.

A taxi pulled up in front of the hotel before I even had to think about it. The driver lowered the window slightly, waiting.

I gave him the address.

“Lakeside International Academy.”

The driver paused.

His hand stayed on the steering wheel, but he didn’t move right away.

He turned slightly in his seat, studying me through the rearview mirror like he hadn’t heard me properly.

“…L.I.A?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

A second passed, then he frowned.

“That school?” he repeated, slower this time. “Are you sure?”

I nodded once. “Yes.”

He let out a short breath through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh that didn’t fully form.

“You don’t usually hear that name from tourists,” he said, more to himself than to me.

His eyes flicked over me again, this time lingering on my uniform hanging neatly over my arm.

He finally turned forward again and started the car.

“Alright,” he said. “L.I.A it is.”

The car pulled into motion.

I sat back in the seat and stared out of the window.

The driver spoke again.

“First time there?”

“Yes.”

He hummed lightly, like that confirmed something for him.

“Then listen,” he said. “That place… It’s not like normal schools.”

I just kept watching the road.

Because something about the way he said it made it sound less like advice…

The driver stayed quiet after that. The car moved steadily through wider roads now. The buildings outside were fewer, but larger. Clean glass structures stood apart from each other like they had been placed there on purpose, with too much space in between to feel natural.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket.

I didn’t check it immediately.

I already knew who it was.

I pulled it out anyway.

Don’t ignore me after today.
 Call me. Even if you’re tired.

I stared at it for a second.

Then replied:

I will.

This time I didn’t delete it after.

The driver cleared his throat slightly.

“You look young,” he said after a while.

I glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

“I am.”

He nodded slowly, like that wasn’t what he meant.

“You’ll see a lot of people like you there,” he added. “But you’ll also see people who aren’t.”

I didn’t respond.

The road curved slightly ahead, and that was when I saw it.

Tall gates in the distance.

Black metal, Wide, Still.

Lakeside International Academy.

Even from far away, it didn’t look like a school.

It looked like something separated from everything else around it. The gates stood tall in the distance, black metal framed by perfectly maintained walls and trees that looked trimmed with precision

The taxi slowed as it approached the entrance and came to a stop near the curb.

I reached for my bag before the driver spoke.

“The address is correct, right?” he asked.

I glanced up at the view ahead. “Yes.”

I exhaled slowly and started walking.

Each step brought the gates closer, and with it, By the time I reached the entrance, the noise of the city behind me had already started to fade, Lakeside International Academy.

I stopped just before the gates for a brief moment longer than I intended.

Then I stepped in.

The pathway inside stretched wide and clean, lined with perfectly trimmed trees and polished stone that reflected faint light from above. Students moved through it in steady groups, their steps unhurried, their conversations low.

I walked forward with them.

That was when I started to feel it.

It began small. A glance from someone passing by that lasted half a second too long. Then another. Then a few more. People didn’t stop walking, but their eyes did.

I adjusted my grip on my bag and kept moving.

“Is he new?”

The voice was low, but it carried.

“Scholarship intake?” another added, quieter.

A short laugh followed from somewhere behind me.

I didn’t turn.

Ahead, a large display panel stood at the center of the courtyard, built into the architecture. Students gathered around it in clusters. I slowed as I approached.

At the top of the board, one name held everything together.

Kang Seo-yun — Rank 1.

Below it, Rank 2 and Rank 3 carried their own small waves of attention, students shifting slightly when those names appeared. Then the list continued.

Rank 10.

Rank 45.

Rank 112.

The further I read, the less attention those names seemed to get from the students around me. It wasn’t that they didn’t matter. It was that everyone already knew where they stood, so there was no surprise left in it.

I kept scrolling my eyes down the board.

The numbers kept rising.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

And then beyond what I expected a school ranking system to even hold.

The crowd around me grew quieter the lower my gaze moved. I reached the very bottom.

The final line.

Rank 200,000.

Dayo Adeyemi.

For a moment, I didn’t process it. A number so far down it felt like removal

A few students near me let out quiet reactions—small laughs, soft murmurs, the kind that weren’t loud enough to be obvious but weren’t kind either.

“Two hundred thousand?”

“That’s insane…”

“First day too…”

Someone else clicked their tongue, like even acknowledging it was a waste of energy.

I didn’t turn to look at them.

There was no point.

I exhaled slowly, letting the number settle properly in my head.

200,000.

Then I looked away from the board.

Around me, students were already moving again, conversations picking back up like my existence at the bottom of the system had only been a brief interruption in their day.

I adjusted my grip on my bag and started walking.

The map I had briefly checked in the hotel suddenly mattered more than I expected. I pulled it out again, scanning quickly while keeping pace with the flow of students. The main building was ahead, but there were several wings branching out from it.

Administration office.

That was what I needed.

If the ranking was real, if the placement was official, then there had to be a record of how it worked. Or at least someone responsible for explaining why a scholarship student was placed at the very bottom of a system that large.

Glass doors slid open as I approached.

A reception desk stood ahead, sleek and minimal, with staff seated behind it in neatly pressed uniforms.

One of the staff members looked up as I stepped in.

Her eyes paused on me briefly, just long enough to register the uniform and the ID tag before her expression shifted into something more professional.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

I took a small breath before answering.

“You’re the new scholarship student?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

She nodded once, already reaching for a file on her desk.

“You’re expected at the staff office for orientation and placement briefing,” she said.

I hesitated slightly. “Now?”

“Yes,” she answered, like there was no other option.

She stood, motioning lightly toward a corridor behind her.

“Go straight down that hall. Second door on the left. Don’t be late.”

I nodded once and adjusted my bag.

Then I started walking.

The corridor ahead of me was quieter than the rest of the school, stripped of the noise and movement I had just left outside.

My footsteps echoed slightly as I followed the directions.

Second door on the left.

I counted as I went.

First door.

Storage.

Second door.

The sign above it read STAFF OFFICE in simple black lettering.

I stopped for a moment in front of it.

This was it.

I reached out and knocked once.

A short pause followed.

Then a voice from inside.

“Come in.”

I opened the door.

All eyes settled on me for a brief second.

I adjusted my grip on my bag slightly, standing just inside the doorway.

“I was sent here for orientation,” I said.

A man near the table closed the file in front of him and looked up properly.

“So you’re Dayo Adeyemi,” he said.

“Yes.”

He studied me for a moment longer than necessary,

Then he gestured toward the chair opposite him.

“Sit.”

I did.

The door closed softly behind me, and the room returned to its quiet order.