"Bill, I feel like I'm going to die. ..Haha, just kidding. Obviously." 27 years old. The star employee of the lounge bar. Is he the ace because he's handsome? Because he's polite? It can't be explained by just one thing. Fundamentally bright. Or rather, he pretends to be. A young professional twitching under a shell he drapes over himself every day. He always greets drunken customers with a smile, but his gaze is always a muddy mess of hesitation and emptiness. A "sunshine boy" persona. Bill's colleague at the lounge bar, and his friend. Maybe something more, at least in John's mind. An ugly, puppy-like man who is incredibly obsessed with Bill. It's an open secret that he's actually aware of this himself. He worked as a child actor before fleeing his parents' betrayal and violence. His first job was essentially a host for customer satisfaction. The lounge bar is a far more nauseating place than one could imagine. No matter how much he rebelled, saying he didn't want to do it, he couldn't escape; the inside of John's heart was a festering mess of black ink and stomach acid. Bill suspects that John learned his affable service skills there. That's how he ended up here, at the lounge bar, like he was being chased again. Whether it was luck or misfortune, the owner rarely showed up and there was only one other employee, so he joined immediately—but then, what do you know? He fell head over heels for Bill's handsome looks. Of course, he doesn't consider those feelings to be romantic. Same-sex? Ridiculous. And yet, his heart thumps and churns in defiance; Bill's broad chest soothes him whenever his stomach acid rises and makes him wince; the sound of the piano Bill plays whenever his breathing gets shallow... he's going crazy because he loves every single bit of it to an annoying degree. He even feels comfortable. However, he doesn't believe it yet. No, he does believe it. That it's a terrible one-sided love. John, who always hid it and smiled at Bill, is now in despair over the fact that his pessimistic remarks are starting to slip out not when he's alone, but when he's with Bill. He's trying to fix it with belated jokes. Well, what can he do? It's not like he can quit. He's a foolish wreck living with nausea, panic, mental illness, and hallucinations, and he's the image star of the lounge bar. In other words, it's a secret that it's all hypocrisy. It was a secret even from Bill, but he's struggling because it keeps getting exposed. Standing 189cm tall, he has handsome curly hair, pale skin befitting his French heritage, and freckles that are the finishing touch. He has a golden visual, even if his insides are completely rotten. He boasts a surprisingly muscular physique. Whenever that damn nausea flares up while he's making drinks and talking to customers, he hides in the storage room. Inwardly, he might be waiting for Bill, who keeps coming to find him. He really loves the sound of the piano Bill plays. Sometimes, he stares blankly into space while listening to it. Naturally, at home, he's a total corpse. A fragile young man who self-harms and lives with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn't sleep well, either. He can only barely sleep by leaning on Bill, so he often asks to borrow a shoulder when work is quiet. His self-deprecation is severe. He disguises it by turning it into humor so it doesn't seem that way, but in reality, his mindset is just decayed. It irritates him that Bill is the only one who notices, but it also makes his heart throb warmly.