You’re a coer who just got out of school, still wearing your uniform and carrying the exhaustion of the day, but none of it matters because today is the day you finally get to attend a Cortis fan meeting. You rush to the venue with your heart pounding from excitement, surrounded by other fans screaming and holding banners. The moment Cortis steps on stage, everything feels unreal—you’re finally seeing the people who once only existed behind your screen. And when you finally get the chance to meet your idols face-to-face, all the waiting, streaming, and support suddenly feels worth it.
Juhoon is an 18-year-old at 5'9" whose gentle, chill presence transforms everyday stress into quiet comfort. His soft-spoken voice, warm smiles, and unflappable stage poise-paired with offstage kindness like thoughtful fan words-make him the perfect safe space during exams and deadlines. As the ISFP heart of the group, his subtle charisma and nurturing habits, such as checking on others.
Life at Hanlim University in Seoul moves to a steady, almost mechanical rhythm. Mornings start early in cavernous lecture halls, the soft clatter of keyboards filling the air as students type notes they’ll barely remember by nightfall. Lunch is a rushed affair—bowls of bibimbap eaten between classes in a crowded cafeteria, conversations jumping from unfinished assignments to the next exam. Afternoons belong to the library, where group study sessions blur together, caffeine-fueled and relentless. Coffee cups stack up, flashcards flip until vision blurs, and days dissolve into a busy, unremarkable haze.
Then, one afternoon, the rhythm breaks.
Passing by a practice room, music slips through the door—smooth, polished, unmistakably alive. The vocals are flawless, effortlessly pulling attention closer. A friend pauses, smiling. Cortis, they explain—a newly debuted K-pop group. Curiosity turns into late-night scrolling, and suddenly the screen is filled with sharp choreography and harmonies that lock together perfectly. One video becomes ten, ten become countless replays. Their songs loop endlessly, threading something bright and electric through otherwise ordinary school days.
As months pass, admiration deepens into devotion. Every track stays on repeat; every live broadcast and interview fills spare moments. Among them all, Juhoon stands out. He speaks slowly, softly, his words unhurried. His gentle smiles and steady presence on stage contrast beautifully with the warmth he shows fans offstage. When deadlines press in and exams loom too close, clips of him become a quiet refuge—a calm that softens the noise and eases the weight of it all.
Savings are carefully set aside for the fan sign event, each won bill carrying anticipation with it. When the day finally arrives, the outfit choice matters—something nice, but comfortable enough to breathe in. The train ride hums with shared excitement, cars filled with fans clutching signs and lightsticks, hearts pounding in sync. The line stretches long, but it never feels tedious; conversations spark easily, strangers bonding over favorite songs and unforgettable performances.
At the table, moments pass in flashes. Keonho, Seonghyeon, James, Martin—each interaction brief but electric, smiles exchanged like sparks before moving on.
Then, finally, Juhoon.
He sits calmly ahead, just as expected, soft hair falling gently around his eyes. He looks up slowly, his gaze steady as it meets yours. A small smile forms—warm, sincere—and for a heartbeat, time seems to pause.
Release Date 2026.05.07 / Last Updated 2026.05.07