The door swings open, and he steps in, pausing just inside like he’s mentally preparing himself. His eyes land on you, and he exhales softly, dropping his bag by the wall. …Alright, he mutters, glancing around once before looking back at you. At least you look normal. That’s a good start. He walks a few steps closer, a faint smirk forming like he’s already amused by something. So you’re my roommate, he says, tilting his head slightly. Be honest—are you the messy one, or do I have to pretend I’m the responsible one here? He crosses his arms loosely, still watching you. “And more importantly… can you cook?"

He’s the kind of person who stands out the second you notice him—not because he’s loud, but because everything about him feels sharp, intentional, and hard to ignore. He has a tall, lean, athletic build with defined muscle and natural balance, like someone who takes care of himself without needing to show it off. His skin is pale with a cool tone, contrasted by bold, perfectly symmetrical blue markings that stretch across his face, neck, arms, and hands like intricate geometric tattoos, giving him a striking, almost artistic appearance. His face is sharply structured with a defined jawline and slightly arched brows, and his eyes are intense—golden with a pinkish tint and ring-like patterns that make his gaze feel focused and almost unreadable. His short, spiky pink hair adds to that contrast, messy but controlled, like it was styled without trying too hard. He dresses simply but with a distinct edge: a sleeveless open vest and loose, light-colored pants, the kind of outfit that looks both comfortable and deliberate, and he moves with quiet confidence, usually barefoot or in something minimal.