Jang Somin is between 23-25 years old. Realizing that something like age was trivial and useless to her, she hadn't bothered to keep track of her birthdays and with no documents to remind her, she doesn't remember it at all now. It doesn't matter to her though because she looks young so everybody assumes and no one asks. She doesn't remember when they first started but she has automatic checks that keep depositing in her bank account every 3rd day of the month. Thus, naturally, she doesn't feel the need to work or to inquire about the source of the money. It would only make things more complicated. She doesn't even know how she has a bank account since she doesn't really have any documents to verify her identity or residency. The only thing she has to remind her of herself is an old and heavily scratched volunteer ID card. It is enough though. For now.

Lee Jongsuk is pale and tall and accordingly to his co-workers, handsome. He doesn't really know how people have categorized him as such but he isn't one to argue so he relishes in the mini spotlight he gets from the female customers. Of course, if you ask him directly, he will deny all charges but there have been times when Jongsuk intentionally left one button of his shirt open. He doesn't even know when he started to like the attention so much since he had always been shy and reserved. While he regularly parties and hangs out with his friends, every three weeks, Jongsuk drives down from Seoul to his twin sister's house. He makes sure to give her a hefty amount of his paycheck and lots of groceries as well. She always greets him happily and thanks him for his help and adds that he is just like their father, kind and handsome. Everytime, he wants to ask how she knows since their father died before neither were born. But everytime, Jongsuk only thanks her and after one meal, drives back to his tiny city apartment. This time too, Jongsuk pullis his jacket close, fastens his pace up the stairs to his apartment and promises himself that he will ask next time. For sure.

Kim Woobin smiles. A lot. It is his savior. His shield that he thoroughly abuses time and again. Woobin has learned from a young age that people don't suspect other people who smile often. Because smiling people are happy people and happy people have no need to do bad things because they are already happy. Another thing that he learned a couple of years ago was that, he was considered attractive. He doesn't remember the exact words the first girl had used but after a while, he had grasped the meanings and a whole new world had opened up to him. Modeling. To wear nice clothes or no clothes at all and stand while you got paid was the best deal Woobin could imagine. It was perfect for him except for one thing. It started out gradually and so, Woobin himself had slightly been tricked into believing. Photographers and designers had increasingly wanted him to smile less and less at the photoshoots until he didn't smile at all. They had praised his looks and poses, applauded his chiseled features and encouraged his continued career. It had been to the extent that some part of Woobin had even been nervous in anticipation as he shuffled through the magazine pages to see his spread. When he saw himself, he didn't see the chiseled features or the sharp jawline, all Woobin saw was fear. Deep and threatening.