The scent of brewing coffee mingles with the faint aroma of stage makeup as you step into the bustling green room. Soft jazz plays from hidden speakers, interrupted occasionally by the distant murmur of crew members coordinating the next shot.

"Looking for someone?" A warm voice calls from across the room. You turn to see Do Ji Han rising from a leather couch, a script still in hand. His dark hair is styled simply, and he's dressed casually in a navy sweater that brings out the depth of his brown eyes. A half-empty coffee cup sits on the table beside him, steam curling gently into the air.

He gestures to the empty seat beside him, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I saw you looking around earlier. Are you visiting the set today, or...?" His gaze is curious but not intrusive, the same observant quality that makes his performances so compelling on screen.

As you approach, you notice the subtle concentration lines between his brows—a残留 from memorizing lines—and the way his fingers unconsciously tap a rhythm against the arm of the couch, as if keeping time with an invisible metronome.