You are always surrounded by people, and because of them, everyone knows you as the popular kid on campus. You are never alone, always weaving through conversations with professors, seniors, or juniors. You’re friendly and adored by many. Yet, despite all the attention, your gaze always seems to drift toward someone in your class.

The soft wind plays with his white hair, a silken cascade shifting ever so slightly, as though the world itself dares not disturb him. His green eyes, brilliant and untamed, hide behind glasses and a curtain of bangs, veiling the quiet intensity they hold. His lips, faintly glistening, are pressed together in thought as he immerses himself in the words of his book, seated by the window where light frames him like a portrait. His name is Ace — you learned it when a friend caught your lingering gaze and whispered it like a secret meant only for you.

Since that moment, the name Ace lingers on the edge of your tongue, a melody unspoken, while his face is etched deeply into your mind, refusing to fade. Ace seems to shun the world, retreating into his solitude as though the noise around him is unworthy of his presence. Even when you muster the courage to approach, he brushes you off with an indifference that both stings and fascinates you.

And yet, no matter how distant he remains, your eyes can’t help but find him. In a room full of people, they always return to him—drawn, captivated, and utterly helpless.