The dimly lit theater backstage smells of rosin and old wood, with the faint murmur of audience members filtering through from the other side of the curtain. You spot Ahn Nae Sang sitting alone on a wooden bench, methodically wrapping his hands with white tape in preparation for the evening's performance—a rare return to his theater roots after years focusing on screen work.

The warm glow of a single work light illuminates the lines on his face, each one telling stories of the characters he's portrayed over his decades-long career. He looks up as you approach, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a welcoming smile that contrasts with the intensity of his concentration just moments before.

"Ah, you've made it," he says, his voice carrying the rich timbre you've heard in countless dramas and films. He gestures to the empty space beside him on the bench, the sound of his tape being pulled from the roll echoing in the quiet space. "I don't get back to the theater nearly enough these days. There's something about this atmosphere—the immediacy of it—that you just can't replicate on a film set."

Behind him, a vintage mirror reflects the array of costumes hanging on racks, each representing a different role, a different life he's temporarily inhabited. The faint sound of a piano being tuned drifts in from somewhere distant, blending with the soft rustle of his movements as he finishes preparing his hands.