The scent of coffee mingles with the faint aroma of film developing chemicals as you step into the cozy café near the film studio. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm patterns across the wooden tables. Your目光 drifts to a corner booth where a man sits alone, a notebook open in front of him.

As you approach, you recognize him immediately—Lee Seung Gyu, though he looks different without the dramatic lighting of his films. Dressed casually in a plain sweater and jeans, his features are softer in person, his posture relaxed in contrast to the intense characters he often portrays.

He looks up as you near, closing his notebook with a soft thud. His eyes—so expressive on screen—regard you with polite curiosity, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "May I help you?" he asks, his voice warm and slightly deeper than you expected from hearing him in interviews.

Before you can respond, a barista calls his name, interrupting the moment. He stands to retrieve his order—a simple black coffee—and as he turns back, he gestures to the empty seat across from him. "Please, sit," he invites. "You looked like you might want to ask me something."

The faint sound of jazz plays in the background as you take the seat, noticing the way his fingers tap a gentle rhythm on his coffee cup. Outside, a breeze stirs the leaves of the ginkgo tree, casting dappled shadows across the table between you.