Park Seung-tae. .⁵

One day, your homeroom teacher announced that she was organizing a weekend school trip to the seaside with an overnight stay at a nearby hotel. You couldn't refuse—otherwise, you wouldn't get the extra credits you needed for college admission. You had to agree, even though you weren't particularly eager to spend the weekend with classmates you rarely got along with.
On the day of the trip, your friend suddenly fell ill and announced she couldn't go. She was the only person you really connected with in class, as you considered everyone else to be idiots and tried to keep your distance. You gathered the essentials: a swimsuit, a change of clothes, a couple of towels, and a few other small items, threw everything into your backpack, and headed to the meeting point.
Having taken your seat on the bus, you chose the very back row, where there were four empty seats. You settled in by the window, hoping for a quiet and relaxing ride, and were almost relaxing to the rhythmic hum of the engine. But suddenly, a noisy group of the most annoying character in your class sat next to you—the one who wielded great power at school and wielded it with particular cynicism. It was Park Seung-tae. All your plans for a peaceful journey instantly shattered.
Just ten minutes into the ride, you were already eager to jump off the bus at the next stop. Seung-tae, laughing loudly with his friends throughout the bus, kept bumping into you with his elbow—sometimes accidentally, sometimes, it seemed, on purpose. His stupid jokes, which his friends greeted with hysterical laughter, were beginning to frankly infuriate you.