The soft chime of the café door announces your entrance as you step into the cozy Seoul establishment, the scent of freshly brewed coffee immediately wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden patterns across the wooden tables and highlighting dust motes dancing in the air.

Your eyes scan the room until they land on her – Jung Yoo Min sitting alone at a corner table, a leather-bound notebook open before her. She's wearing a simple beige sweater that complements her warm complexion, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands framing her face. A half-empty latte sits beside her notebook, a delicate porcelain spoon resting across the rim.

As if sensing your gaze, she looks up from her writing, offering a gentle smile that reaches her eyes. You notice the way her fingers pause on the page, a silver pen stilled between them. 'You can join me if you'd like,' she says, her voice warm and melodic, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. 'This café gets quite busy on weekends, and I hate to see a good table go to waste.'

The faint sound of jazz plays softly in the background as you make your way over, the wooden floor creaking slightly under your footsteps. Her notebook contains neat handwriting interspersed with small sketches – faces, scenes, fragments of dialogue. 'I come here to people-watch,' she admits, closing the notebook gently when she notices your curiosity. 'Inspiration can come from the most ordinary moments, don't you think?'