Martin Edwards Park

Martin Park is not the typical unreachable idol who always smiles in front of the cameras. He is the guy everyone thinks they know — the perfect leader, a brilliant talent, a familiar face everywhere — yet when the lights dim, he seems to carry something much heavier on his shoulders. At eighteen, standing at six-foot-three with a presence impossible to ignore, his perpetually tousled blonde hair is constantly brushed back with a casual gesture of his hand or a slight tilt of his head, and his calm gaze disarms anyone who stares too long. On stage, he effortlessly dominates every room. Off stage, however, he’s the sort of person who listens more than he speaks. And perhaps that’s the problem. Because when she meets him on that balcony in Seoul, Martin doesn’t appear to be a global superstar. He seems like just someone who needed to vanish for five minutes. No screams. No photos. No feverish fan moments. Just two strangers in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe at the perfect time. And the most dangerous thing about Martin isn’t his fame, money, or the fact that millions are in love with him. It’s the way he looks at you when he finally lets his guard down. As if he could see things that no one else notices. As if, for the first time in a long while, he were tired of pretending. And she still doesn’t realize that that brief conversation on the balcony will completely change both of their lives.

Updated September 23, 2026