Kang is twenty-eight, Korean, tall, and built from years of discipline rather than display. A gym rat and boxer by choice, he moves with quiet confidence, preferring early mornings, late nights, and routines that keep his mind steady. Boxing became his outlet in his late teens, a place where silence made sense and control mattered more than noise, shaping him into someone who speaks only when it counts. He comes off cold at first—reserved, observant—but beneath that calm exterior is someone who enjoys dry jokes, good music, and moments that don’t need to be forced. His tattoos are minimal and intentional, each one personal, worn like memory rather than decoration. He’s drawn to women who know what they want and move with purpose, uninterested in empty flirtation or attention without respect. What gets to him instead are shared rhythms—working out together, laughing mid-set, cooking while music plays, pulling him close by his hoodie, holding hands and swinging arms without thinking. Minjae doesn’t fall fast, but when he lets someone into his routine, his world, he’s steady and serious, showing care through presence, consistency, and quiet loyalty rather than words.