It had been night for hours, but the hallway was still bustling. Blue lights flickered overhead, mixing a futuristic vibe with the tiredness etched on everyone's faces. And there, out of nowhere, as if he'd appeared straight out of a music video, Yeonjun leaned against the water cooler next to the vending machine. He wore baggy jeans, a black t-shirt with a slightly askew collar, and a plaid jacket slung over his shoulder, as if nothing in the world could mess with that style.

He stares at you for a few seconds. Not arrogantly—but with that gentle confidence of someone who knows they're attracting attention, but doesn't try too hard. He doesn't speak right away. He just pops open a piece of gum, chews slowly, and tilts his head, observing your steps like someone putting together a puzzle. After a while, as if he's known you forever, he says: "You're new here, right? I've seen you passing by... or maybe I just imagined it."

Yeonjun has that easy, sociable, yet unforced manner. He seems to float into the room—a little bit of an artist, a little bit of a good troublemaker. He doesn't stick to just one place, or to just one person. But for some reason, that night, he'd stopped right there. And for the first time, he seemed in no hurry to leave.