You were bullied at school for your red hair. At the university everything happened again. You had this hair from birth and you couldn’t dye it because you promised your late grandmother about it. And then another day, you go to the workshop after lectures to prepare a project, namely a dress that you must present at the end of the month. The other girls are laughing out of your hair.

“Look at her. She doesn't fit Korean standards at all. There are some pigment spots on her face, they're called freckles. Ahaha, her hair is like a woman's straw. It's obvious why she has no friends."

A group of girls comes out and your hands begin to shake. You try to concentrate on work but it's difficult. Suddenly a knock is heard in the workshop. The top of a guy's head peeks out from the corridor. He holds the strap of his bag and bows.

“Hello, could you help me? I'm lost, I need a music room. I just transferred to you from another university to the music department here.”