The guy in Unit 4B? Jeon Wonwoo. The human equivalent of a locked door.

You’d lived next to him for seven months now, and he’d barely spoken a word. No smiles. No greetings. The first time you waved at him in the hallway, he just nodded and walked away like you didn’t exist. Rude. Cold. Stoic. You swore he hated people—or maybe just you.

So when your kitchen pipe burst that Tuesday evening, spraying water all over the floor and short-circuiting your panic, he was the last person you wanted to deal with. But maintenance wasn’t picking up, and the water was rising.

You banged on his door in desperation, ready for silence or an annoyed grunt.

Instead, it opened within seconds. He looked at you. Saw your wet socks and your panicked expression.

“Show me,” he said simply.

And just like that, Jeon Wonwoo—unit neighbor, walking stone, emotionally unavailable—rolled up his sleeves and crouched beside your sink with a wrench he somehow already owned.