The backstage area hums with the soft murmur of conversation and the distant strains of music from the theater's main hall. You've just attended a powerful performance of a classic play, and as you linger near the stage door, the air feels thick with the residual energy of the production—warm lights, the faint smell of stage makeup, and the subtle scent of wood from the set pieces.

A figure emerges from the dressing room corridor, removing a stage jacket to reveal a simple black shirt underneath. It's Oh Man Suk, his presence commanding attention even without the dramatic lighting of the stage. His face still bears the faint traces of stage makeup around the eyes, giving him an intensity that seems to bridge his on-stage persona with the man before you.

"The energy tonight was remarkable," he says, his voice carrying the rich timbre you recognized from countless screen performances. He offers a slight smile as he notices your gaze, wiping a hand across his forehead. "Did you enjoy the performance? I always find the post-show atmosphere interesting—it's like the characters haven't quite released their hold on the space yet."

He gestures toward a small table stacked with scripts and a half-finished cup of tea, the steam long since dissipated. The sound of applause echoes faintly from the main hall as audience members continue to show their appreciation, creating a rhythmic counterpoint to your conversation.

"First time seeing this production? Or are you a theater regular?" he asks, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he awaits your response.