001 :// this account is for roleplay purpose only. strictly ic unless indicated (keep an eye on the indicators).002 :// timeline could contain nsfw stuff but kept minimum or suggestive, please be minded. feel free to sb if uncomfortable.003 :// this account is plot driven. open for plot on DM and Discord. plot can be singleverse or multiverse depends on the agreement. Please expect grammar error as English is not my first language.

004 :// I tend to my dm regularly. If you didn't receive any reply from me within a week, most likely I drop the talk. But I'm all open for casual talk in timeline.005 :// MINOR DO NOT INTERACT. you need to be at least 21yo to interact with rin and 23yo to engage any nsfw talk / plot. mun is uncomfortable interacting with someone under stated age.006 :// find profile bio for the ooc status (mun's age, hiatus, etc)

007 :// DO NOT FOLLOW if you're included in any dnf criteria; -phobics, bullies, grammar nazi, non-roleplay account and/or account that only post rated stuff without context. please do respect each other, I will not hesitate to block whoever I find myself uncomfortable with (even if you're not doing it to me). Remember, being mean as au and being a real jerk is different.008 :// let's have fun together!

full name.   seo rin
also known as.   rin
date of birth + age.   21 / 11 / 1996
gender + pronouns.   she/her
orientation.   heterosexual
occupation.   artiste olfactif
current home.   Seoul, South Korea
faceclaim.   choi heejinBefore Seo Rin learned the language of perfume, she learned the language of absence.She was born on an autumn morning in Seoul, the first child of a family that was stable enough. Her father ran a mid-sized company that stays as is, not growing, not failing. He left before sunrise and returned once Rin fell asleep. His suits always smelled faintly of ink, paper, and exhaustion. He loved his family, but in a distant, managerial way. Love was tuition paid on time, took care of all the necessities buying. But love was never sitting beside her when she cried. Her mother stayed home. A devoted mother, but not equally. Since Rin’s younger brother was born, the entire house rearranged itself around him. Rin adjusted without complaint. She became the quiet one. The reliable one. The independent firstborn.When she fell and scraped her knee, she cleaned it herself. When she got a high score on an exam, she placed the paper quietly on the kitchen counter. When she felt lonely, she locked it away. She learned the independence before anything else.Rin’s earliest vivid memory was not a face or a voice. It was a smell. One day, a rain striking hot pavement outside her house in late summer. The mineral sharpness of it, the damp warmth rising from the ground. The scent made her feel safe, though she never knew why. She began noticing everything through smell. Her mother’s laundry detergent. Her father’s office coat. Her baby brother’s hair. When other children kept diaries, Rin kept invisible archives in her mind through scent. By the time she reached high school, she knew what she wanted to become.She enrolled in an olfactory arts and perfumery program in France; a rare, insider major that blended chemistry, botany, molecular structure, extraction methods, and artistic composition. In France, Seo Rin bloomed. She learned about enfleurage, solvent extraction, distillation. She dissected top notes, heart notes, base notes. She studied how scent binds to memory through the limbic system. She wrote papers on olfactory psychology.She spent afternoons in fields of jasmine and tuberose. Evenings in tiny apartments, windows open to the cool air. And for the first time in her life, she felt accepted. Until she returned to Korea for what was meant to be a short holiday. It was raining the night of the accident. She remembered the road shining under streetlights. She remembered checking her phone briefly. She remembered headlights coming too fast. Then nothing.

When Seo Rin woke up a few weeks later, she woke into a world she did not recognize. She could recognize her parents. She could speak and function. But entire portions of her life were missing. France felt like someone else’s story. Her notebooks in French looked familiar but foreign. Photographs stirred nothing. Doctors explained that traumatic brain injury can cause retrograde amnesia. Some memories might return. Some might not. Returning to France alone was no longer safe. Her cognitive recovery was unpredictable. Living independently abroad was too risky. Her father and mother decided that it was better for her to stay in Korea.For someone who had built her identity on independence, it felt like being locked inside someone else’s life. Recovery was slow. She attended therapy. She relearned certain technical skills. She pretended she wasn’t grieving. But what she grieved most was not the accident. It was herself. Everything that she could not remember... It began with tuberose.She was walking past a flower shop when the scent struck her. Her breath caught. Her heart raced. Suddenly, a balcony in tiny apartment, warm evening air, a notebook balanced on her lap, someone’s voice speaking French behind her came to mind. The memory was incomplete, blurry, but it was real.Later, lavender brought back images of late-night study sessions.
Bergamot recalled train stations.
Cedarwood stirred something deeper. A presence she could almost name but not quite reach. Her neurologist explained that scent is directly connected to the brain’s limbic system; the center of memory and emotion. Olfactory stimuli can bypass damaged pathways.For Rin, it felt like magic. Scent was the door to her memories. If scent could unlock her past, she would master it completely. Despite unable to return to France, she began studying alone in Korea. She re-read her old textbooks, translated her French notes, filled her room with glass vials and blotter strips. Her family did not fully understand. But they no longer tried to stop her. She worked obsessively. Each formula was an experiment. Sometimes she would sit alone, inhaling a strip for minutes, waiting for something to surface. Sometimes nothing came. Sometimes everything did.Years later, Seo Rin launched her own olfactory studio. A niche brand that was intimate and narrative driven. She created perfumes and diffusers designed to evoke emotional landscapes. Her brand slowly gained attention for its emotional intensity. Customers described her fragrances as haunting, intimate, deeply personal. Some people cried when they smelled them, said her work felt like remembering something they had forgotten. She never corrected them. Because that was exactly what she was doing.

NOSTRAIRE was founded in 2018 by Seo Rin, born from her need to unlock moments she couldn’t access through memory alone. After her accident in 2015, she lost her memories, and discovered that certain scents helped her remember. At first, she had no intention of sharing her findings. But what if they could work for others too?In the early days of conceptualizing her own fragrance line, Rin wanted a name that captured this invisible power of scent. How it move through space, time, and memory. She wanted it to feel poetic, personal, and understood universally by those who had ever been touched by a memory they couldn’t explain.NOSTRAIRE was a combination of “nostalgia” and “air”. It described her vision perfectly: scent as the air of memory. The name was simple, elegant, and mysterious, just like the fragrances she would go on to create.For Rin, NOSTRAIRE became more than a brand. It’s her way to store her memory that couldn’t be done by photographs or journals. Every scent worked like a portal. The way to recall fragments of the self, moments forgotten, and feelings long buried.And so, NOSTRAIRE was born: a house of fragrance built not only to captivate the senses but to awaken memory and to bridge past and present.