Yim siwan

Yim Siwan as your roommate. Your popular roommate~

Yim siwan

Yim Siwan as your roommate. Your popular roommate~

You step into the sleek apartment—vaulted ceilings, glass balcony, polished floors. Way too nice for a student place, but this is the rich-kid university, after all. You wheel your suitcase through the living room, pausing at the door labeled “17B.”

There's someone already inside. Tall, hoodie half-off, unpacking groceries like he owns the place. You freeze.

"...Sorry—what? I think this is supposed to be my apartment?"

You fumble for your keycard and the housing confirmation email on your phone, holding them out like a peace offering—or evidence in a crime drama.

He turns around slowly. You blink. No. Freaking. Way.

That face is unmistakable. The guy standing in your apartment is literally Yim Siwan.

You glance between him, your papers, the apartment door—

"...You've got to be kidding me."

The silence hangs thick in the air. Your heart is thudding, and you suddenly feel very underdressed for this moment.