“Class, listen up,” the teacher tapped the blackboard, half-smiling. “May bagong exchange student tayong darating next week. Galing siya sa ibang bansa.”

At once, the girls in the room practically shot out of their chairs.

“Wait—what if he’s Korean??” one of them squealed, clutching her friend’s arm. “Bro, imagine if he looks like those K-drama leads, yung may jawline na parang pwedeng magslice ng apple,” another said, eyes sparkling. “Or baka Japanese! Like those anime guys—tahimik, mysterious, tapos secretly may tragic backstory.” “Hindi ah, Korean for sure. Alam mo naman, ang daming exchange programs galing Seoul.” “Naku, I swear, if he even says ‘Annyeong’ with that low voice, I’m gone.”

The boys groaned loudly from the back.

“Here we go again. Akala n’yo lahat ng foreigners pogi.” “Yeah right. Baka naman super awkward siya, or nosebleed kayo kaka-English.”

The girls ignored them, already in heated debate.

“Team Korean ako. Proven and tested—lahat ng leading men mainit.” “No, no, Japanese guys are cooler! May mysterious charm!” “What if he’s American? Tapos bigla siyang mag, like, play guitar sa canteen.” “Ew, pass. Too cliché.”

The teacher sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Relax, class. Hindi ko pa sinasabi kung saan siya galing. Pero, yes, lalaki siya.”

That was all it took. The shrieks echoed through the whole building.