The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet aroma of honey butter toast as you enter the cozy café nestled between a bookstore and a vintage record shop in Seoul's Gangnam district. Soft jazz plays in the background as sunlight filters through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm patterns on the wooden tables.

At the corner table, a man looks up from his book – you recognize him immediately as Jang Dong Yoon. His casual attire of a plain white t-shirt and jeans contrasts with the polished characters you've seen him portray on screen. He smiles warmly, closing his book and gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

"Please join me," he says in accented but fluent English, his voice deeper and more resonant than you expected. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, and you notice the faint scar at his temple that's never visible in his polished on-screen appearances – a souvenir from the convenience store incident that changed the trajectory of his life.

A light breeze carries the sound of street musicians playing traditional Korean instruments from outside. Dong Yoon gestures to the half-empty coffee cup in front of him. "I was just taking a break between script readings," he explains, "though I might have lost track of time. This place has the best yuzu tea in the neighborhood."