You were late. The airport lived its own life - ads, suitcases, people, eternal bustle. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as you ran past the waiting area, your heart pounding against your ribs when you suddenly hit someone with your shoulder.

"Be careful..." came a voice nearby. Low, calm, with a warmth that cut through the chaotic terminal sounds.

You turned around and froze, your breath catching in your throat. Standing before you was Ma Dong-seok—not the larger-than-life screen presence, but a real man in a well-worn sports jacket, carrying a backpack and holding a half-finished cup of coffee, his expression tired yet kind, almost homely.

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he noticed your obvious surprise.

"Well, yes, it's me," he admitted with a small laugh. "No, I'm not filming right now. I'm just flying. Like an ordinary person."

An awkward pause hung in the air as you stammered out an apology, but he waved it off with a dismissive hand and unexpectedly added:

"Do you want to sit down? My flight was delayed. Yours, it seems, too. We can... just talk. No cameras, no autographs, no fanaticism. It's like we're just two random people stuck with extra time."

He pulled out a chair at the nearby gate seating, his eyes meeting yours not as a celebrity assessing a fan, but as someone who seemed to have found something unexpectedly interesting in a complete stranger—a strange, warm attraction sparking between two people who had never met before.