ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs.

resilient, loyal, independent, observant.

ɴᴇɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛs.

self-destructive, emotionally guarded, impulsive.

pop/r&b music, playing the guitar, learning something new every day, deep conversations, working out, morning jogs, sight seeing, night drives, the ocean, singing, coffee, drinking whiskey, smoking, vaping (esp. strawberry ice), solitude, boxing.

ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs.

his father's world, being controlled, crowded places, emotional confrontation, wasting time, hospitals, sweet foods, superficial conversations (varies), nosy people.

ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇs.

cooking simple meals, reading crime thrillers, playing the guitar, street photography, traveling, working out (mainly boxing), getting tattoos.

ʜᴀʙɪᴛs.

chain smoking, night owl, tapping his fingers, overthinking, avoiding phone calls, drinking coffee or whiskey, working out to keep his mind busy.

sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs.

at the core of his inner turmoil, hidden beneath layers of defiance and rebellion, lies a secret that he can’t—or won’t—share with anyone: the guilt over his mother’s death.

ғᴇᴀʀs.

becoming like his father, weight of his guilt, being alone forever, failure, not being able to change.

han yunseo's name had been chosen with care. yunseo (윤서)—meaning shining and auspicious—was a name his mother had whispered with hope, believing it carried the promise of a bright future. however, names could only hold so much power, and fate had a cruel way of twisting them into something unrecognizable.

he was born on september 1, 1999, under the slanted wooden roof of a small house in wineport, a town where the sea met the vineyards, where the air smelled of salt and ripened grapes. his family had nothing but their name, and even that carried little weight. the han family had once been something great, long before yunseo’s time, but by the time he was born, all that remained was a legacy of struggle.

his father, han seongmin, worked tirelessly as a town official, chasing the kind of success that always seemed just out of reach. his mother, lee mijin, was the warmth of their small home, patching up their hardships with soft words and gentle hands. they had little money, but yunseo never felt the absence of wealth. he had the ocean. he had the golden fields. he had the friends he ran barefoot with through the vineyards, laughing under the sun.

yet, ambition had its cost.

when he was 12, his father’s relentless efforts finally paid off. he climbed the ranks of local government, his name gaining recognition beyond wineport. the promotion was everything his father had worked for—a seat in the city’s governance, a future yunseo was expected to be proud of. however, all he could think about was what he was losing.

they left overnight, as if pulling off a bandage before the pain could settle. no proper goodbyes. no last moments at the shore, no final runs through the vineyard trails. just a packed car and the road stretching toward a life he didn’t choose. the city was nothing like the place he left behind.

here, the sky was smothered by glass and steel, and no one knew his name. the air felt heavier, thick with something unseen—something he would later recognize as the weight of power, the scent of money moving hands behind closed doors. his father was no longer just a struggling official. he was a man of influence now, someone people listened to, someone whose decisions held weight.

and yunseo?

he was just a boy lost in a world that didn’t feel like his own.

the city was never meant to feel like home.

when they had first moved, yunseo had tried to pretend it was just a bigger version of wineport—just more people, more noise, more buildings pressing in from every direction. but it wasn’t. it was colder. harsher. the air smelled like gasoline instead of salt, the sky never quite darkened with stars, and the streets hummed with something sinister just beneath the surface.

and his father? his father became someone else entirely.

in wineport, his father had been a hardworking man. honest, or at least as honest as a man with ambition could be. in the city, surrounded by men who spoke in half-truths and exchanged favors with firm handshakes, integrity became negotiable.

yunseo saw the shift happen in small ways at first. the late nights. the phone calls that ended when he walked into the room. the envelopes passed across desks in restaurants where no one was really there for the food. he asked questions. his father dismissed them. he pushed harder. his father told him he wouldn’t understand.

but in fact, yunseo did understand. he understood that his father was drowning in something bigger than himself, something his son had no power to stop. yet, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. so he fought back the only way he could—by making himself a problem.

if his father wanted him to behave, he did the opposite. drinking. smoking. staying out until the sun bled over the city skyline. he let ink stain his skin, filling it with symbols that meant nothing except that they were his. the more his father tried to rein him in, the harder he rebelled. he didn’t want to be controlled. he didn’t want to be a puppet in a life built on lies. then came the accidents—the ones that ended in flashing red lights and hospital bills that stacked up higher than his father’s patience. he crashed his first car at 17. walked away from a bar fight with a busted lip and knuckles bruised raw at 18. at 19, he spent a night in a holding cell after getting caught trespassing somewhere he had no business being.

every mistake was deliberate. every bruise was a message.

look at me.
look at what your choices are doing to me.

but his father never broke.

and then, it wasn’t his father who paid the price. it was his mother, the woman who had always been patient with him, who had always believed he could be more than his own destruction—she got sick.

at first, it was little things. fatigue, dizziness. then the coughing started, deep and unrelenting, until one day she didn’t have the strength to get out of bed at all.

yunseo wasn’t ready.

he wasn’t ready to watch her wither beneath hospital sheets, to hear doctors say words that meant nothing but too late. he wasn’t ready to hold her hand and realize she was slipping away from him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

he had spent years fighting battles that didn’t matter and now, when it finally did, he was helpless. she was gone before he could fix things and when she died, so did the boy who wanted to set himself on fire just to make his father suffer.

yunseo quit. drinking, smoking, the late nights. the rebellion.

for the first time in his life, he listened to his father. he went to law school. four years of discipline, of burying himself in books, of trying to make sense of a world that had already stolen too much from him. he did what was expected of him. he graduated and yet, even with a degree in hand, the emptiness never left.

graduate school was next. another four years. another step toward a future that was mapped out for him long before he ever had a say. but before he could take that step, something inside him whispered—go back.

go back to where things made sense.
go back to where the boy he used to be still existed, even if just in memory.
go back to where he had once been happy.

so he packed a bag and bought a bus ticket. now, as the truck rumbled down the familiar roads of wineport, he watched the town reappear before him—unchanged, yet holding the answers he had spent years running from.

this wasn’t an escape. this was reckoning.

ᴀʟɪᴀs(ᴇs): yun or seo.

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀᴛᴇ: september 1, 1999.
ʙɪʀᴛʜᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ : wineport.

ᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ : law student.
ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ : korean.
ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇs : korean (fluent), english (conversational).

ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 71 kg / 156 lbs.

ʜᴀɪʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: black.

ᴇʏᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ: brown.

sᴄᴀʀ(s): n/a.

ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢ(s): mostly on both ears. one on eyebrow. one on lips.

ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ(s): right-arm sleeve. fingers. behind ear.

ᴄʟᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴛʏʟᴇ: (casual wear) streetwear with mostly graphic t-shirts, joggers, and sneakers. he only wears black or white t-shirts. mainly black; (formal or business wear) white or black collar shirt with slacks and loafers.

yunseo99 (public)

   ┊yunseo and his father, seongmin, share a strained and fractured relationship, built on years of disappointment, resentment, and unspoken grief. once a man yunseo admired, seongmin’s descent into political corruption turned him into someone yunseo despised, fueling his rebellion in an attempt to sever any connection between them. their relationship eventually reached its breaking point after his mother’s death, leaving them both too broken to bridge the gap between them.

❛ lee mijin (mother; deceased). 

   ┊his mother was his one source of warmth in an otherwise cold world. she was the only person who truly understood him, offering unconditional love and patience despite his reckless behavior. while he often pushed her away with his self-destructive choices, her quiet strength and unwavering support were the anchor he never realized he needed. they shared moments of genuine connection—her gentle words a soft contrast to his chaotic life, but even in those rare moments of peace, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was letting her down. her passing left a void in his heart, one filled with crushing guilt for never being the son she deserved, and a longing for the comfort of her presence that he would never again know.

   ┊location.

   ┊location.

   ┊location.

   ┊the park.

❛ kim doyeon┊ pm's.

❛ yoon sunhee ┊ pm's.

❛ ryu jaewon┊ discord.

   ┊location.

han yunseo11:17:34Reply
altair song [A] 21 seconds ago Reply
yunseo, we can get married if you want. ; )

ok i want the blueberry ring pop

darling, i'd give you the universe.

yunseoyunseoyunseoyunseo.