At A Glance
o Previously: Minki Kang
o Currently: Rikki Kang
o Very introverted
o Quiet and contemplative
o Can be long winded when you strike a subject he has passionate feelings about
o Humor so dry you might not even notice when he’s joking
o Incredibly nihilistic
• Religion: LaVeyan
• Age: 23
• Height: 178cm
• Weight: 60kg
• Sexuality: Gay
Sena Pae came from a stable family. The youngest of three children, she was supported and doted on by both her parents and her two older brothers. She’d been expected to prioritize her studies over romance, her parents innocently wishing for her to find success without the threat of distraction. They were firm with their insistence, but gentle enough that it left her just enough wiggle room to rebel without fear of heavy retribution. Dating boys in her own class was an innocent enough venture, but one she found herself quickly dismissing once she met Donghoon Kang. The older brother of a classmate, Donghoon was 25- a volatile mix of perceived maturity and the taboo she was seeking without knowing it. After all, she’d been told her whole life that she was mature and responsible, why would she date boys when she could be with a man?
Donghoon was not the picture of stability and promise that Sena had imagined. Outwardly, he was charismatic and outgoing, enjoying a well packed social life full of friends and nights on the town that Sena gladly fell into. In reality, the quips and smiles were a mask put on to conceal the suicidal ideology he’d carried since his youth. The nights on the town were merely a socially acceptable way to nurse his drinking problem. By the time the issues came to light, it was too late for Sena to back out. She was 17 when she discovered she was pregnant. Minki Kang was welcomed into the world soon after .
Minki was a quiet and well behaved child. Imaginative and observant, he spent most of his time gathering information from the world around him and regurgitating it back into his play sessions. It was a lucky break for his parents. His father was too consumed in his own vices or, when sober, his own mind, to pay much attention to the boy. His mother, similarly, was too tired and beaten down by the role she’d unwittingly found herself thrust into- a sole pillar of support for her husband, whom she had no idea how to help. “Not right now,” and “Go play,” were the most common phrases Minki heard from his parents.
School was an uncomfortable experience for him. He’d grown, up to this point, in virtual solitude, developing his interests and play patterns independent of other children. He didn’t know how to approach them, or how to behave around them when he was approached. Quickly, he realized that this would be another place where he was going to be alone despite the presence of others. Children are resilient, though, and he adapted in the same way he did at home. Now, however, he leant on drawing as his preferred way to pass the time. This way, his method of play wouldn’t intrude of those around him.
This worked well during his early life, but with the onset of his preteen years a sense of resentment had begun forming. He was tired of seeing his peers enjoy each other’s company while he sat outside the circle, only being acknowledged as “the quiet kid.” He began acting out, doing whatever he could to be noticed. Given the examples he had growing up, his outbursts tended to be macabre in nature- he’d see how many safety pins he could inch beneath the first layer of his skin before someone called the teacher, or rub erasers on his hand until friction burns bled.
His grabs for attention were successful. Suddenly, people were taking notice of him- and all it took was a few scabs and a little pricked skin. Not to mention, the taboo of those actions was alluring. He wanted to explore the world of the macabre more.
In books and music, he found other lost souls like his own. He soaked it up like a sponge, finally quenching his thirst to be seen, not only on a physical level but a familial one. These writers and lyricists were his people, and they were able to conjure the dark in a way that didn’t leave people recoiling in discomfort- instead, they earned admiration and respect. He decided this was what he wanted to be. There was power in the way they wove words.
Minki spent his final years in school with his head down. His antics had subsided, taking place only in his writing now. Putting pen to paper was a sublime sort of release for him. Within the papers of his notebooks, he could capture or create at will. But of course, he still craved that attention. And now, he had something he could be noticed for that he was proud of. He began sending out his work anywhere he could- the school newspaper, fringe horror magazines, publishers scouting for work to include in upcoming anthologies. Anything was fair game. It was at this point when he took on his moniker. He didn’t want the work he took so much pride in to be tied to his history. He was rebranding, reviving, retrying, redoing. “Min” was discarded and he became Rikki: a second, more polished attempt at himself.
Rikki has found his own slice of contentment. He gets by on the money from his writing, mainly appearing in niche online publications. He has an open relationship with his readers (any time someone uses the word “fan” when referring to them he’s guaranteed to get nauseous.) His zeal for the art makes it easy for him, who historically struggled to connect with anyone, to find common ground. Most nights, he’s up until the sun rises either writing or lending an ear to a reader who reached out.
His only love in life is words themselves. Constantly, he’s striving to find ways to have his words flow more succinctly. At a point, he realized that some languages contain words better able to capture an idea than others- and sometimes, words that may not exist at all in one are present in another. As a result, he taught himself other languages in the same way he’d taught himself to write. His understanding of these languages is constantly expanding and always incomplete, due to the sporadic way he jumps from learning one to another. Regardless, he’s always pleased at the opportunity to practice them by conversing with native speakers.
He lives in a small apartment with his two cats, a couple of strays he swooped from the street as kittens. As far as he’s concerned, they’re the only family that matter.