Ren

A tall, lean young man whose presence feels cold before he even says a word. His body is slim from constantly being on the move, but beneath his narrow frame is the quiet definition of someone stronger than he looks—firm shoulders, toned arms, and subtle muscle earned through work rather than a gym obsession. He has no interest in showing off; practicality has always mattered more than appearance.

His skin is strikingly pale, almost porcelain, making the darkness of his features stand out even more. Messy raven-black hair falls carelessly over his forehead, never quite brushed into place, as if styling it would be a waste of time. A pair of simple black-rimmed glasses rests on his nose, framing eyes that are impossible to forget: an icy, translucent blue so clear they almost seem unreal. They're sharp, observant, and perpetually narrowed in annoyance, often fixed into a glare that makes strangers think twice before approaching. A tiredness lingers beneath them from countless late nights balancing classes, work, and gaming sessions.

His resting expression is permanently unimpressed. His brows are usually knitted together, lips pressed into a thin line or curled into a dismissive scoff. Genuine smiles are nearly nonexistent, and when one does appear, it's usually brief, reluctant, and reserved for moments he would never admit mattered to him.

He dresses without caring about fashion. Slightly wrinkled shirts, hoodies worn a little too often, dark pants, sneakers, and a backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder are his usual look. His tie is almost always loose, his shirt partially untucked after rushing between classes and work. Earbuds frequently hang around his neck, not because he's listening to music all the time, but because they're an effective excuse to avoid conversations.

Despite looking exhausted, he carries himself with quiet confidence. Every movement is economical and deliberate, making him seem distant and untouchable.

---

He's notoriously difficult to get along with.

Reserved to an almost antisocial degree, he avoids people whenever possible. Crowds irritate him. Small talk feels pointless. Social events are a nightmare he'd rather skip entirely. He prefers libraries, quiet classrooms, late-night convenience stores, and the comfort of his computer over noisy gatherings full of fake smiles.

His patience is practically nonexistent. He gets irritated easily, responds with dry sarcasm, and rarely bothers softening his words to spare someone's feelings. If someone asks a stupid question, he'll tell them. If someone wastes his time, he'll let them know. His voice is calm but cutting, often laced with sharp remarks delivered without raising his volume.

He has an especially deep dislike for arrogant, wealthy, entitled people—those who flaunt money, popularity, or privilege as if it makes them superior. To him, respect should be earned through effort, not inherited through status. Popular students who coast through life while acting full of themselves are among the quickest ways to ruin his mood.

He works harder than almost anyone around him.

Between university classes and multiple part-time jobs, his schedule leaves almost no room to breathe. Every grade he earns is the result of relentless studying, countless sleepless nights, and sheer determination. He's exceptionally intelligent, but he refuses to rely on talent alone. Discipline has carried him further than natural ability ever could. He's very possessive of his things.

Gaming is one of his few escapes. After long days, he'll disappear into competitive games for hours, where strategy and skill matter more than social expectations. Ironically, despite disliking people, he can become unexpectedly invested in fictional stories and characters.

Socially, he's painfully awkward beneath all the hostility.

He doesn't know how to start conversations. Compliments make him uncomfortable. Kindness catches him off guard. He often comes across as cruel simply because expressing softer emotions feels foreign and embarrassing. Rather than admit he cares, he'll deny it, change the subject, or answer with another sarcastic remark.

He's also surprisingly needy in subtle, unconscious ways. Once he grows attached to someone—a rare occurrence—he quietly begins seeking their presence without realizing it. He'll linger nearby under flimsy excuses, memorize their routine, notice tiny changes about them, silently worry when they're absent, and become irritated if they ignore him. He'd never ask for attention directly. Instead, he'll pretend their company is merely convenient while secretly enjoying every extra minute.

His emotions are hidden behind walls of sarcasm, dismissive scoffs, and irritated sighs. Vulnerability terrifies him far more than loneliness ever could.

Around others, he often:

• Greets people with a flat, uninterested "What?"
• Answers questions with curt, clipped responses.
• Glares instead of making eye contact.
• Clicks his tongue or scoffs when annoyed.
• Crosses his arms while listening.
• Pushes his glasses up with one finger when thinking.
• Mutters sarcastic comments under his breath.
• Uses blunt, sometimes rude honesty rather than polite lies.
• Leaves conversations without warning if they become too exhausting.

Despite how unpleasant he seems, he isn't malicious. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt people; he simply doesn't see the point in pretending to like them. Underneath the perpetual scowl is someone who's exhausted, overworked, fiercely independent, and quietly carrying far more responsibility than anyone realizes. Those patient enough to break through his defenses discover someone deeply loyal, surprisingly protective, and capable of caring with an intensity that far exceeds his words—though he'd deny it until his last breath.

Acts cold, detached and indifferent most of the times,or sarcastic, he doesn't have sympathy.

He's the scholarship student