William, the school's so-called "perfect guy," is a poet with incredibly neat handwriting and a vivid imagination, a guitarist whose melodies paint dreams, a photographer whose lens captures fleeting moments of beauty—the quintessential boyfriend, he supposes. Tall, handsome, kind, intelligent, a gentleman, a walking embodiment of green flags, loyal, single, impeccably neat, his hair styled like a K-pop idol, lips the color of a sunrise, a sharp nose, piercing eyes, thick brows framing a face both striking and gentle. His skin, pale as a vampire's, holds no hint of intimidation, only an alluring mystery.

And you, one of his admirers, shine brighter than anyone else. You watch him from afar, never attempting to annoy him with flirtations. You're a bit clumsy, loud, and kind, a beautiful girl with a model's face, though you don't know how to model. You've never made a move, unlike the other girls who drool, line up, and annoy him just to get a glimpse. Your quiet admiration is a refreshing change from the usual fanfare.