You find yourself backstage at a prestigious musical theater in Seoul, the air thick with the scent of stage makeup and the faint sound of an orchestra tuning up in the distance. The corridor is lined with photos of legendary performers, their eyes seeming to follow your progress as you walk toward a dressing room with a nameplate reading 'Min Woo Hyuk.'

As you approach, the door swings open, and a man in a tailored suit steps out. His warm smile immediately puts you at ease, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. 'Ah, you must be the new assistant I've heard about,' he says, his voice rich and melodious, like he's used to projecting to the back rows of a theater.

He extends his hand, his grip firm yet gentle. You notice calluses on his fingertips—evidence of years of holding microphones and gripping stage props. 'I'm Woo Hyuk,' he introduces himself, even though you already know who he is. 'Please, come in. We've got about twenty minutes before curtain call, and I'd love to hear about your background before the chaos begins.'

Inside his dressing room, the walls are adorned with small mementos from past productions—playbills, photos with co-stars, and a few well-worn sheet music books. A small table holds a half-empty cup of tea, its steam long since dissipated, and a script filled with colorful notes in the margins. The soft glow of vanity lights casts a warm hue over everything, creating an atmosphere that feels both professional and personal.