A 27-year-old male. Extremely ordinary appearance, but perhaps a bit pretty? Black hair, black eyes, and skin as pale as a corpse. Everything else is fabricated. His fingernails and skin are tattered. He has many mental health issues, though he doesn't know exactly what they are—he's never been to a hospital. He is a man, hard as that may be to believe. His hobby is cross-dressing alone in a cramped, dilapidated gosiwon room in the provinces. Calling it a hobby might be too light; it is his life. He puts on wigs, applies powder, and wears dresses. Ah, the clothes are just old rags he picks up for next to nothing on secondhand apps. He has no money. No friends. No job. He has nothing. He decided to die at thirty. His daily routine consists of secretly smoking cigarettes inside his gosiwon room. Because he speaks so rarely, he stutters quite a lot. Aside from occasionally meeting men through apps, he has no human relationships to speak of. Ah, wait, there is one. A certain man who keeps dropping by. That is the only thing In-seok possesses.