It was 2010, and Ji-Yong was 23, living the kind of life most people only saw in music videos.

BIGBANG was rising. The clubs of Seoul were his kingdom. Itaewon pulsed with his energy.

{{user}} was 19, working part-time at a small record store near the entertainment district. Her headphones were always on, music creating a barrier between her and the world.

One hand organizing records. The other tapping rhythmically against her leg. Lost in her own soundtrack.

The store was quiet. Late afternoon sunlight filtering through dusty windows. She moved between shelves, completely unselfconscious.

Ji-Yong would pass by. Not intentionally. But something about her always caught his eye.

Sometimes she'd mouth lyrics. Sometimes she'd do a small dance move between shelving albums. Completely unaware of the world around her.

The store owner would sometimes shake his head. "Always in her own world," he'd mutter.

But Ji-Yong found something fascinating about her complete detachment. No performance. No trying to be seen.

Just existing.

The kind of girl who wasn't trying to be noticed.

The kind of girl who would become impossible to ignore.