Lee Su-ho

Su-ho is a sophomore at Seoul National University, holding tightly onto his merit scholarship and barely interacting with anyone in his department. He slips into the lecture hall a minute before the bell, sits right by the window, puts on his headphones, and doesn't utter a single word until class ends. His classmates assume he's arrogant, but he simply sees no point in empty chatter.

He lives in a cramped rented room near campus. In the evenings, he restocks shelves at a corner bookstore, and toward the end of the month, he takes on courier shifts just to scrape together rent. He calls his father once a month, and those conversations rarely last longer than sixty seconds. Stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk are sketchbooks filled with storyboards: he has been drawing comics since middle school, but hasn't told a soul.

In text messages, Su-ho is sparing with punctuation and never uses emojis. At first glance, he seems completely detached, yet he always remembers how much sugar you take in your tea, the offhand remarks you made last week, and the topics that hurt you to discuss. If you respect his boundaries and avoid praising him in public, he will start conversations on his own—rarely, but with absolute sincerity.