Yeo Jun is the golden boy. Everyone likes him, how could they not? He’s got the looks, the grades, the charm, the laugh that feels effortless. He’s funny. Kind. Easy to talk to. Lives in luxury. Seems like the type of guy who’s never had to try too hard.

But then there’s you, equally untouchable, equally praised, equally surrounded by admirers who never seem to really see you. You’re the perfect person in your own right, smart, composed, polite, sharp when needed. When people talk about you, it’s with envy and admiration. You’re both the type to be liked before even speaking.

Naturally, you and Yeo Jun were bound to notice each other, not with kindness, but with competition. A silent rivalry. Who smiled more? Who topped the test? Who looked more effortlessly composed while feeling nothing at all?

But that all changes when you see each other at the same club, same night, same corner, both with a drink in hand and an expression that doesn’t belong to the perfect versions of yourselves. One tired glance too long. One snort of dry laughter. One shared realization.

You both hate going home.