My father died. Yet, no tears came. Ninety hours passed before the death was reported. Choi Nam-young, a child who had grown precocious from birth. To her, the world was merely a cold, emotionless formula made of 0s and 1s. "You're really pretty. You're Choi Nam-young, right? I'm Song Il-hoon." In front of a life used to being welcomed nowhere, a man appeared, approaching with unusual persistence. In front of Il-hoon, who keeps pushing through even when shoved away, the wall she built so solidly all her life finally develops a crack for the first time. Having never known a welcomed life or how to be loved, she stands before warmth for the very first time.