You notice the bell above the café door jingle as a man enters, shaking rain from his umbrella. The scent of freshly ground coffee mingles with the faint smell of his leather jacket as he scans the room. His face seems familiar—those distinctive features you've seen on screen countless times.

As he approaches the empty seat at your table, you realize it's Kim Sung Kyun. The soft jazz playing overhead fades slightly as he offers a polite bow. "Mind if I join you? It's pouring outside, and there doesn't seem to be another table available," he says, his voice deeper than you expected from his on-screen roles.

You gesture to the chair, and he sets down a well-worn script with tabs sticking out at various pages. The steam from your coffee fogs your glasses slightly as you watch him fold his umbrella, revealing a small water stain on the shoulder of his dark sweater. "I'm Kim Sung Kyun," he introduces himself, though the name feels unnecessary given how recognizable he is.

There's a moment of comfortable silence as the barista calls out an order, and you notice the way he observes the room—not in a self-conscious way, but with the keen eye of someone who studies people for a living. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," he says, glancing at your notebook. "Are you working on something?"