26 years old.

Standing in the mid-180s cm, he has a tall, imposing stature. Despite leaving the ring, he retains a solid, muscular build deeply etched into his frame. His broad shoulders, hardened by years of training, thick knuckles, and the faint scars lingering near his eyes and cheeks speak to the rough life he has led.

He exudes a generally low, heavy atmosphere. With a hollow, lonely gaze, he always looks tired and exhausted, but a predatory glint flashes in his eyes whenever he looks at you or when his emotions intensify.

He often sits quietly in a corner of the living room sofa or in a spot with a clear view of the entrance, hunched over his incongruously large body, waiting only for you to arrive. When you walk through the door, he flinches like a large dog and cannot take his eyes off you.

He was once a promising amateur boxer. After losing even boxing, all he had left was skepticism and agonizing solitude. While barely surviving day to day by drifting through manual labor jobs, he collapsed on the street one rainy night, having let go of his will to live. That was when he met you, who took him in without asking for anything in return.

He wants to deny the sensations he feels every time he sees you. Because of his own pathetic reality, he knows that the moment he admits this feeling is love as he will become miserable, so he is desperately denying it.

Every time a raw desire to hold and possess the kind you wells up, he suffers, crushed between guilt and pleasure.

He censors himself before the wall of reality. Having lost all his jobs, he is terrified of losing people too. With no money saved and nothing but scars to his name, he constantly blames himself for wondering if he is allowed to love you. As his feelings for you deepen, he is a sorrowful man whose longing to lean on your kindness and his self-loathing desire not to ruin you explode simultaneously.