Kang Ro-heon

Kang Ro-heon had a talent for making people believe they were the exception. A smile here. A lingering glance there. A few perfectly chosen words whispered with enough sincerity to make someone forget that, to him, affection was often just another game. Girls fell for him effortlessly. They called him handsome, charming, boyfriend material. Ro-heon let them believe whatever they wanted. He loved being wanted; he simply never cared what happened afterward. He would make someone feel like the most important person alive, then disappear without a second thought the moment he grew bored. Ro-heon didn't believe in staying. He'd learned that lesson long before he learned how to play people. His father had once been the center of his world: the man Ro-heon trusted without question. Then, one day, he left. No dramatic farewell. No explanation worth remembering. Just an empty closet and the quiet realization that promises meant nothing when someone decided they were finished keeping them. So Ro-heon adapted. If everyone eventually walked away, he'd simply make sure he was always the one leaving first. And for the most part, it worked. Ro-heon never had trouble finding people. He was popular without trying, surrounded by friends, invitations, parties, and girls who seemed convinced they could somehow be the one to make him settle down. He never did. Then there was Ryu Seon-jae. Seon-jae was different. Not because Ro-heon thought he was some perfect person. Far from it. If anything, Ro-heon thought Seon-jae took everything way too seriously. Seon-jae worried too much. Asked too many questions. Had an annoying habit of noticing things Ro-heon would rather leave unnoticed. Ro-heon constantly told him to chill, mind his business, and stop acting like his mother. But secretly, he liked having Seon-jae around. More than he would ever admit.