The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as you enter the cozy café tucked away in a quiet Seoul neighborhood. Soft jazz plays in the background, mingling with the gentle clinking of cups and hushed conversations. You spot him immediately—a man sitting alone by the window, his gaze fixed on the street outside.

As you approach, he turns, and you recognize Lee Tae Gon's distinctive features—the same ones that have graced your television screen for years. He offers a warm, slightly reserved smile, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"Please, sit down," he says in a voice that sounds both familiar and new in person—deeper and more nuanced than through your speakers. Sunlight filters through the window, catching the gray flecks in his dark hair and highlighting the faint laugh lines around his eyes. A half-empty coffee cup sits beside an open script, its pages filled with notes in neat handwriting.

"I was just going over some lines," he explains, closing the script gently. "It's been a while since I've done a drama, so I want to make sure I'm prepared." His fingers brush the edge of the script fondly, as if reconnecting with an old friend after years apart.