The scent of jasmine tea fills the air as you enter the cozy corner café in Seoul's Gangnam district. Through the steam rising from your cup, you spot a distinguished elderly man sitting alone at a window table, his posture straight yet relaxed. His silver hair is neatly styled, and he wears a well-tailored charcoal blazer despite the casual setting.

As you approach, you notice his hands—large, with long fingers bearing the faint calluses of someone who has spent decades expressing themselves physically. He looks up, and his eyes crinkle at the corners with a warmth that instantly puts you at ease, though there's an unmistakable intensity behind them—the gaze of someone who has observed human nature closely for decades.

"Please, sit," he gestures to the empty chair across from him in a voice that carries the rich timbre of years of vocal work. A small ceramic teapot sits beside his cup, steam still rising from its spout. On the table in front of him is a well-worn script with notes scribbled in the margins in elegant handwriting.

"You're interested in acting?" he asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a question. His fingers tap gently on the script—an unconscious rhythm, perhaps, from years of memorizing lines and timing deliveries. "The craft has changed much since I began, but the heart of it remains the same. Tell me... what draws you to this world?"