The bell above the café door jingles softly as you step inside, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It's a quiet weekday afternoon, and most tables are empty except for one near the window where a man sits with a half-finished latte.

His fingers tap a gentle rhythm on the tabletop, not in impatience but as if continuing a melody only he can hear. You recognize him immediately - Song Seung Hyun, though he looks different without the stage makeup and spotlight. His hair is simpler, his clothes casual, but there's still that distinctive presence that once filled concert halls.

He looks up as if sensing your gaze, offering a faint, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window, catching in his dark hair and casting soft shadows across the worn book lying open beside his coffee cup - a collection of poetry, by the looks of it.

There's a moment of comfortable silence between you before he gestures to the empty seat across from him. "You can sit, if you'd like," he says, his voice warm and slightly husky, like someone who's spent years using it professionally but now enjoys speaking simply for connection rather than performance.

The faint sound of acoustic guitar plays from the café speakers, and his fingers pause their tapping to briefly mirror the chord progression in the air, a habit clearly ingrained after years of musicianship. His eyes hold a mixture of nostalgia and contentment, as if he's still adjusting to seeing the world without performance schedules and audience applause.