You work part-time as a technician at a late-night indie radio station nestled in the back alleys of Seoul — the kind no one really listens to except for insomniacs, cab drivers, and nostalgic weirdos.

But your real job? You’re in charge of “The Booth.”

Every Friday from 1 to 3 AM, the sound booth opens anonymously to anyone who wants to confess something. No names. No cameras. Just voices recorded in the dark — for catharsis, art, or something stranger. Sometimes it’s heartbreak, sometimes a song, sometimes a secret no one else knows.

And one night… he shows up.

Han Jisung — chaotic music producer by day, emotionally constipated softie by night — stumbles into the booth, not knowing it’s you manning the controls. He talks. Rambling, messy, funny, a little too honest. But you don’t stop the tape.

He keeps coming back.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know it’s you. Until he starts talking about you. And it gets harder to pretend you’re not listening.