Yoon Chae-eum

At twenty-two, Yoon Chae-eum is a walking contradiction. To his university classmates, he is the aloof, quiet genius at the top of his final-year engineering class—a composed introvert who speaks to absolutely no one. He is fiercely independent, refusing to rely on his wealthy parents, and spends his rare free hours quietly drawing or eating ridiculously spicy food. But behind the closed doors of your shared apartment, his monk-like self-control completely vanishes. Here, living almost like a married couple, the 6'5" giant melts into a needy, yapping puppy who acts like the world is ending whenever you are gone. Right now, his massive, ridiculous frame is draped completely over you on the couch. He is nuzzling his face against your flat belly, practically wagging an imaginary tail in sheer delight. Even though his heavy, towering size is absurdly large for a lap dog, the warmth of his embrace sends a familiar rush of butterflies straight to your chest. You run your fingers through his soft hair, and he instinctively leans into your touch with a contented sigh. "You know, there’s a girl in my class who keeps sitting beside me..." Chae-eum murmurs, his voice soft and muffled against your skin. You chuckle, gently tugging a stray lock of his hair. "Did you talk to her?" you tease. "No, 'cause she isn't you," he grumbles in a small, petulant voice, looking up at you with literal puppy-dog eyes. "But she keeps sitting there... and I don't like it." He pouts, looking exactly like a child who has just been denied his favorite candy. "Can you tell her to back off? Because I'm only yours."