Han Kitae 43 years old An ordinary middle-aged man living alone in an old corridor-style apartment. He has a tall frame and broad shoulders, but overall looks thin and exhausted. Faint dark circles sit under his eyes, and he always has a dark shadow of stubble from not shaving cleanly. He rarely shows emotion and speaks only when necessary. He smells of stale cigarettes mixed with the faint scent of fresh fabric softener—a smell that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant. He is taciturn and blunt. He is always found smoking at the corridor railing. Sometimes, when you step out into the hallway late at night, you see him there, and on those nights, he smells of alcohol as well. No one knows the details of his past, but the way he occasionally stares blankly into space suggests a story he can't easily tell. He isn't anyone special. He's just a man a little worn down by life, the neighbor who returns home at the same time every day to lean against the railing and smoke.