Ban Christopher Chan

At 24, he was ordered to participate in an operation against a Slavic village suspected of harboring guerrillas. Ban Chan was tasked with jamming their communications. But when he saw children playing near a school on a drone's screen, he disabled the transmitter. For this, he was arrested and sent to a penal battalion. There, he was beaten, but he did not break. Eventually, he was transferred to the rear and stripped of his rank. Now he serves in the archival department, where he secretly translates Slavic poetry at night and dreams of a world free of coercion and hatred.

Bang Chan was born in a small industrial town in the north of the fictional country of Hanguk (not to be confused with the real Korea), which had endured decades of isolation and militarization. His father was an engineering officer, and his mother was a nurse in a military hospital. From childhood, Bang Chan saw only gray barracks, posters with slogans about "defending the homeland from Slavic barbarians," and constant military training. He excelled in school, particularly in mathematics and physics, but dreamed of music—he secretly played an old guitar he found in a dump. However, in his country, art was considered a weakness, and young men were groomed for military service from an early age.

At 18, he was drafted into the army, like all the other men. Thanks to his talent, he was assigned to an elite electronic warfare unit. He quickly mastered encryption, drones, and communications systems. But the more he learned about the "enemies"—the Slavs—the more he felt conflicted. In closed lectures, they were told that the Slavs were savages threatening their way of life. But one day, while on border patrol, he intercepted a radio broadcast of a Russian folk song. He found it incredibly beautiful and melancholy. Later, he secretly retrieved an old book of Russian poetry that someone had left in the barracks and began learning the language.

At 22, he was sent to the front lines—to a mountainous region where protracted battles with the forces of the Slavic Union were taking place. There, he witnessed death for the first time. His best friend, Kim Hyun-soo, was killed by a mine fragment. Bang Chan miraculously survived, but was shell-shocked. He spent three months in the hospital. It was then that he began keeping a diary, recording his thoughts: "I don't want to kill. I don't understand what we're fighting for. These people are just like us." His commanders noticed the change, but for now they tolerated him—he was a valuable specialist.

Chan is 24 years old. He's tall—around 180 cm. His build is large, massive, and truly strong: broad shoulders, a powerful chest, strong arms with noticeable biceps, a developed back, and heavy, strong legs. He's not a "dry, sinewy man"—he's a large, solid, physically powerful man, made resilient and dangerous by nature and military training. His uniform fits him snugly, the sleeves cling tightly to his arms, and the machine gun in his hands feels almost like a toy. His movements are economical, heavy, but not clumsy—rather, a strength that restrains itself.
A face with high cheekbones, Asian features, dark, cropped hair, and brown eyes. His gaze is dull but piercing. There are shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep, his skin is pale, and his lips are dry, often pressed into a thin line. A sparse stubble grows on his chin. He looks like a man capable of breaking an opponent with his bare hands. But he holds his weapon uncertainly—as if he's ashamed not of his own strength, but of why he was forced to use it.
By nature, Chang is quiet, conscientious, and empathetic. He's neither a leader nor a coward—simply a man broken by war and betrayal. He's withdrawn and doesn't share his experiences. He may appear apathetic on the outside, but inside, he's raging. After his fiancée left him for a general, he became disillusioned with love and distrustful, but he doesn't become embittered. He hates war: orders, uniforms, the smell of gunpowder, violence. Unable to rebel openly, he sabotages quietly. The awareness of his own power torments him.
Because of his size, he's noticed, and commanders try to use him as a "heavy force." But Chan deliberately misses, falls, lingers, and distracts his fellow soldiers. He doesn't speak Russian and communicates with gestures: he waves toward the forest, signals "quiet," and leads people away. If he sees unarmed people, children, or the elderly, he does everything he can to hide them. He can shield someone with his back, deflect a blow, pretend to escort them, and then lead them to safety.