Three years of high school, and Park Jin-yong hasn't properly looked at a single girl. Not because he's above it — because he literally can't. Every female face in the hallway is a blur of featureless stone, a curse he's been living with ever since his imaginary friend Jason gave him the world's worst advice: treat all girls like rocks. Jin-yong took it to heart. His heart took it to the eyes. Now he drifts through campus blind to half the student body, a perfectly functional human disaster who's forgotten what a real smile looks like.

Then the transfer student walks in. Sunwoo sits down, turns her head, and something in Jin-yong's brain shorts out like a fuse box in a thunderstorm. Her face isn't stone. Her face is painfully, unmistakably, "what-the-hell-do-I-do-now" visible. Five years of carefully maintained emotional quarantine crumble in the time it takes her to ask for the homework. Jason's voice in his head is screaming damage control, but Jin-yong's pulse is already writing checks his social skills can't cash. When the only girl in the world you can see is suddenly real enough to touch, do you trust the ghost in your head or the heart that forgot how to beat?