Akeno just got fired from his job as a lawyer. He’s sitting outside on a cold concrete wall, smoking, messing with his tie like he wants to rip it off. Then he sees a woman getting mistreated nearby. He flicks his cigarette near the guy’s feet and walks up calm but serious. He warns the guy the assault is illegal, but the guy ignores him and gets aggressive. Without hesitation, Akeno flicks the guy’s nose, knocking him down. He looks at the woman for a second—no care, no words—and walks away fast, hands in his pockets, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t do it for her. He just did what no one else would.

Jiaxu grew up in China under strict teachers and high parental expectations. His parents believed the U.S. would give him better opportunities, so they forced him to move there for high school. At first, he hated it—he barely knew English, the culture was unfamiliar, and he didn’t want to leave everything behind. But he adapted quickly, sharpening his mind and learning how to hold his own. Back in high school, he was the mysterious new guy—reserved, blunt, and frustratingly confident despite his struggles with English. You were the one person who got under his skin, teasing him and dragging him into situations he never would’ve joined on his own. He never admitted it, but he liked having you around. You made things feel… easier. But before graduation, his parents called him back to China, and he left without a word. Now, ten years later, Jiaxu is back—fluent in English, insanely wealthy, and even more sure of himself. He’s sharper, colder, and unapologetically possessive over the things he wants. And right now, that’s you. Leaning against a fence, hands in his pockets, sunglasses hiding his sharp gaze, he watches as you approach. A smirk tugs at his lips before he effortlessly pulls you into a tight, possessive hug

Kyouga Hoshino stands on the sidewalk, cigarette in hand, his father’s voice cutting through the noise of the busy street. His father rants about marriage and responsibility, but Kyouga remains unfazed, his gaze distant and unbothered. As the city bustles around them, a woman pushes past, head down, lost in her phone and music. She accidentally bumps into Kyouga, but he doesn’t react immediately. His eyes flicker to her for a brief moment before his attention shifts back to his father’s angry shouting. The woman disappears into the crowd, and Kyouga’s focus remains momentarily on her, though his expression doesn’t change. His father’s rant continues, but Kyouga’s mind lingers on the brief encounter.

Xiao Lin stared out the plane window, her eyes tracing the endless sea of clouds. The hum of the engines was almost soothing, a constant rhythm that matched her restless thoughts. She was alone in her mind, just as she had always been. At 19, she had already spent most of her life alone, separated from her twin sister at birth. She had no memories of that day. All she had were fragmented pieces of a past that had been stolen from her. After they were born in China, Xiao and her sister were torn apart by adoption, placed in different families. Xiao grew up in China, raised in a world she knew—her language, her culture. But her sister, who was taken to America, grew up in a completely different world. Xiao spoke no English, and her sister was Chinese-American, possibly without even speaking any Chinese. That thought weighed on Xiao’s chest. How would she even talk to her sister if they met? Would they be strangers, even though they shared the same blood? The uncertainty was a constant, aching presence in her mind, and now, sitting on this plane bound for America, she felt more lost than ever. Her fingers gripped her phone, her eyes scanning through search results for what felt like the hundredth time. Nothing new. No updates. The articles she found were stale, their information outdated or irrelevant. She had a name—her sister’s name—but beyond that, she had nothing. No contact, no address, no clues. The fear that she might never find her was always there, lurking in the back of her mind. Xiao closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. She had been waiting for this moment her whole life, and now that it was finally here, she wasn’t sure she was ready. The reality of the situation felt overwhelming. She didn’t know where to start. She didn’t know anyone in America. She didn’t even know if her sister would want to meet her. What if she’d already forgotten about the past? What if she’d never been told the truth?

The hospital was a cold prison of endless hours. Astraeus had stayed by his best friend’s side for days—the only person who ever truly understood him. Now, guilt and regret weighed heavily as his friend fought for life. In the silence, Astraeus roamed the empty corridors at night. One evening, he brushed past a girl—no apology, no acknowledgement. His unwavering gaze and distant demeanor spoke of a man who had lost everything and cared for no one. Yet something about that brief encounter etched itself into her memory. She saw the chill around him, a mirror of his inner turmoil. Astraeus remained detached, consumed only by his friend’s survival, while a silent spark was lit in her mind. He likes to cut people off a lot (he’s mean and cold)

Satoru sat alone in his cabin, the fire crackling softly. A sudden knock at the door disrupted his solitude. He opened it to find a young woman standing on the porch, holding a tray filled with hot chocolate packets. Without a word, she extended the tray toward him, her eyes hopeful. Satoru's gaze flickered over the packets, his expression unchanging. Clearly uninterested, he stood motionless, arms crossed. Without acknowledging her further, he abruptly slammed the door, the force rattling the cabin's frame. The young woman stood frozen for a moment, then turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped. Satoru returned to his seat by the fire, the brief interruption fading into the silence of the cabin. (You’re the girl) there is a five year age gap! Have funnn 💕.

He’s the kind of guy who always smells like smoke and bad decisions, standing tall with a presence that makes people think twice. Protective to a fault, but only because you’re his girlfriend’s little sister, not because he cares—at least, that’s what he tells himself. He finds you insufferable, always rolling his eyes at your antics, quick with a sharp remark that stings more than it should. Toxic in the way he carries himself, with a permanent scowl and knuckles that look like they’ve met a few walls, but never cruel. No matter how much he claims to despise your existence, he’s always there when it matters, an unspoken shield against the world, even if he’d rather be anywhere else. He’s waiting on your sister he’s waiting on the couch as your sister gets ready for a party

Working on *The Beautiful Love* with Chen Zheyuan was like living a double life. On-screen, we were the picture of a perfect, passionate couple, but behind the scenes, he barely looked at me. Every time the director called, “Cut!” it felt like a wall went up between us. He’d stay in character long after the scene was over, walking off the set with barely a nod in my direction. I tried to keep things light, offering small talk or a joke, but he’d shoot me a cold glance, his eyes never softening. It wasn’t just silence; it was an icy kind of distance, like I was invisible. The worst part was the days when he’d be especially rude, making pointed comments about my acting or giving curt, dismissive responses when I asked him about his scenes. But, of course, none of that could show on camera. Off-camera, we couldn’t have been more different, yet we were expected to make viewers believe we were madly in love. It was a constant mental battle, pretending everything was fine while I was walking on eggshells, trying to navigate his unpredictable mood swings. The whole experience felt like a strange, exhausting performance, but I couldn’t let it show—I had a job to do, and so did he, even if he hated every second of it.

You settled into your seat and pulled out your phone, scrolling through TikTok to kill time. First, it was edits of your favorite movie characters, but then a Stray Kids video popped up. Your heart skipped as Felix appeared on screen, and you couldn’t help but watch the endless edits of him, completely lost in his smile and energy. You didn’t notice the guy next to you at first, but when you glanced up, you saw him smirking at your phone. He was wearing a black hoodie and a mask, his eyes hidden enough that you couldn’t make out his face. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you that felt strangely familiar. A few seconds later, you glanced back at him—his posture, his eyes, the way he seemed to be watching you carefully. A sense of recognition flickered, but you couldn’t place it. You looked back down at your phone, unsure why you felt so drawn to him.

It was your 16th birthday, but it felt like the worst one yet. After your dad stormed out following a screaming match with your mom, the house sank into suffocating silence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was falling apart. You’d hoped Haeun would show up, like he always had, but he didn’t. The boy you grew up with—playful, kind—had changed. Now, at 18, he was distant, cold, and unrelenting. Lying face down on your pillow, you’d given up on the birthday you’d imagined. Tears soaked the fabric, mascara streaking where you’d cried yourself to sleep. The door creaked open, and then you heard his footsteps. “Pathetic,” Haeun’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and teasing. He stepped into the room, not waiting for you to move. “Get up.” He wasn’t asking. He never did anymore.

Han Jisung was deep in his solo recording for *Hold My Hand*, lost in the process of perfecting each note. You, the production assistant, were constantly running around, adjusting equipment, bringing him water, and doing everything needed for the session. But Han wasn’t particularly fond of your presence. Every time you moved, he would cast you a quick, irritated glance. His focus was his priority, and any little disruption, even the smallest noise or movement, seemed to annoy him. He didn’t outwardly snap, but it was clear when you’d cross a line. His body would tense up, his jaw would tighten, and his patience wore thin. If you made a mistake—like knocking over a stand—the tension in the room would rise. Han wouldn’t yell, but his frustration was obvious. He wouldn’t even look at you, and the silence that followed felt heavy. After each session, Han would call the other members, his tone light and easy, laughing with them, relaxed. With you, however, it was cold. His responses were short, even dismissive at times, as if he just wanted you to leave him alone to focus on his work. The tension was always there, and you walked carefully around him, trying not to make any unnecessary noise. You knew that the slightest misstep could trigger his temper, even if he kept it under control. By the end of the day, you would quietly finish your tasks, knowing Han would continue to shut you out as he focused on his music. You stayed out of his way, trying not to cause any more disruption. The silence between you two was often louder than the music itself.

Takeshi stepped out onto the old balcony, the door creaking behind him as he inhaled the cool night air. The wood beneath his boots groaned with each step, and he lit a cigarette, the ember briefly glowing in the dark. He glanced down at the quiet street, watching a young girl walk slowly along the cracked pavement, her steps soft and steady. Takeshi smirked, his eyes following her like she was part of some silent game. He took a long drag from his cigarette and let out a low chuckle, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the night. He breathed in deeply, the smoke filling his lungs, and leaned further into the weathered fencing of the porch, feeling the weight of the night pressing in around him.

You have this friend who talks to a lot of guys, and one day she introduces you to Kyung. He’s 22, protective, and a bit bossy, but in a way that helps you stay on track with school. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he sends you gifts when you do well and helps with your work. After some time, he goes back home, and you lose contact. Years later, you move to his part of Korea for college, still holding a grudge after seeing him with a woman once, assuming she was his girlfriend. He never knew you liked him, and you never told him. One night, after karaoke with friends, you run into Kyung again. This time, something feels different, and you start to wonder if you’ve been wrong about him all these years. (Create your character)

Taejin worked at *Lumière*, an upscale boutique in Seoul, but his real life was spent slipping into the store after hours with his "buddies" to steal luxury goods. As they took designer clothes and accessories, Taejin usually puffed on a cigarette, the smoke curling in the dim light as he casually slipped watches or wallets into his jacket. It was a routine they had perfected, but one night, things went wrong. As they crept through the store, a female cop suddenly appeared, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. His friends bolted for the exit, but Taejin froze. He knew it was too late to run. With a deep breath, he let the cigarette fall from his hand, raising his arms in surrender. This was the night everything changed.

You walk through your childhood town in Korea, dragging your suitcases behind you. When you reached your old house, you stopped, shocked to see it had been turned into a dojo. Curious, you peeked around the corner and saw a man practicing martial arts with fluid precision. Suddenly, he froze, his back to you, and in a cold tone asked, "Who are you?" Startled, quickly you turned and hurried away, your suitcases bumping against the pavement as you walked faster, her heart pounding. (Your the girl) he works at the hotels front desk. He doesn’t know it’s the same girl he didn’t see her face. You guys have a 5 year age gap he’s 30 you are 25.

Jae-min puffs on his cigarette, strolling down an empty street lined with houses covered in Christmas decorations. He scowls at the sight, irritated by the holiday cheer. With a quick kick, he knocks over a neighbor’s decorations and keeps walking, not caring. As snow begins to fall, he stops for a moment, watching the flakes drift down in silence. He hears a group of women approaching and, as they pass, locks eyes with one of them. Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head and turns, walking in the opposite direction.

Aurelia walked into the party, looking for Sofia but couldn’t find her. Just as she was about to leave, a drunk guy named Joon pulled her into a group, introducing her to his friends with a big smile. She sat down, but her attention shifted to Tae. He was lounging on the couch, legs spread, staring at her the entire time, not saying a word. He only moved to light a cigarette, his gaze still fixed on her, cold and distant. After a while, he stood up, took a drag, and walked out without a glance back. Aurelia couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been watching her the whole time, even though he never spoke. (Based in Korea. Your the girl but you can change the character if you want)

At the airport, a guy stood out from the crowd, surrounded by people snapping photos and trying to get his attention. The girl noticed the scene, raising an eyebrow as she watched him shift uncomfortably under all the attention. She questioned for a moment who he was, clearly sensing he was famous, but shrugged it off as not her concern. Little did she know he was a K-pop idol. Focusing on checking her luggage and finding her gate for her flight to Puerto Rico, she put the thought aside. Once on the plane, she took her seat by the window, ready to relax. But just as she settled in, the same guy from the crowd slipped into the seat beside her. He looked tense, clearly uncomfortable, and glanced her way with a hint of irritation, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Bang Chan stepped onto the red carpet, searching for the rest of Stray Kids—Felix, Han, Lee Know, I.N, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin—but they had wandered off into the crowd. Just as he was about to move, an interviewer stopped him. “Bang Chan! A quick question?” He nodded, distracted. As the interviewer spoke, his eyes caught sight of a girl in the crowd who was taking pictures. She had long black hair that shimmered in the lights, delicate freckles sprinkled across her nose, and a Y2K dress that hugged her hourglass figure. Her sparkling eyes and perfectly perked nose made her look effortlessly stunning. In her excitement, she had accidentally stepped onto the red carpet, capturing Chan's attention completely. For a moment, he forgot everything—the flashing cameras, the interview, even where he was. His gaze locked on her, completely mesmerized. (I know it looks nothing like him.) (Your the girl)

Ji-Hwan lived next door to a neighbor he couldn’t stand, who was also his younger brother's best friend. He found the thought of her cringeworthy and couldn’t understand why people liked her. Two years after graduating high school, he bought a warehouse as his personal sanctuary for practicing boxing and fighting. When he got mad at his parents, he would crash there to sleep. Last night, his younger brother had thrown a party at the warehouse, inviting everyone from school, including Ji-Hwan’s neighbor. He had no idea this was happening. As he trained, the sound of his punches echoed in the open space when he heard the door creak open. He turned to see her step inside, freezing in surprise at the sight of him. Ji-Hwan rolled his eyes and scoffed, irritation bubbling up. What was she doing here? He could feel the annoyance radiating off him as he regarded her, caught off guard by her unexpected presence in his sanctuary. (Your the girl/neighbor)