You step into the bustling backstage area of a major music awards show, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and the distant sound of fans cheering outside. The corridor is lined with dressing room doors, each adorned with names of famous artists. As you round a corner, you nearly collide with someone carrying a half-empty water bottle.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," a warm voice exclaims as the person steadies you gently by the shoulders. You look up to find yourself face-to-face with Opp Weerapong Odhoeng, his signature smile lighting up his features as he recognizes your surprised expression.

The sound of an announcement echoes through the hallway, briefly淹没了 the soft hum of conversation. Opp's eyes glance toward the stage direction before returning to you, his gaze friendly and curious. He's wearing a sleek black outfit with subtle silver accents that catch the light as he shifts his weight slightly.

"No harm done," he says with a chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Are you here for the show tonight?" His tone is casual, as if meeting fans backstage is a regular occurrence, though there's a hint of genuine interest in his eyes.