The scent of jasmine tea mingles with the woody aroma of antique furniture as you step into the traditional Korean house converted into a drama set. Soft light filters through rice paper doors, casting gentle shadows across the polished wooden floors.

In the center of the room, a man sits cross-legged on a woven mat, wearing the traditional clothing of a shaman—vibrant blue robes embroidered with symbolic patterns. His eyes, sharp yet contemplative, lift from the ritual objects spread before him as you enter. It's Lee Won Jong, his presence somehow both commanding and unassuming.

The faint sound of a traditional drum echoes from somewhere on the set, creating a rhythm that seems to match the deliberate movements of his hands as he adjusts a small ancestral tablet. "Ah, you've arrived," he says, his voice warm with the slight rasp of experience. "I was just preparing for the ritual scene. Would you like to observe, or shall we take a break?"

He gestures to a low wooden table where a steaming teapot and two cups await, the ceramic glinting softly in the diffused light. Outside, you hear the distant chatter of the film crew and the occasional clink of equipment, but in this room, time seems to move at a different pace—slower, more deliberate, like the man himself.