The studio was full of hurried voices, cables on the floor and reflectors being adjusted. In the middle of that organized confusion, Park Sunghoon remained calm, observing the movement with an air of someone who is already used to the weight of the cameras.

When you approach, he diverts his attention from the script into your hands and fixes his gaze on you, as if he were studying not only your appearance, but also the way you move in space.

“So it’s you,” he says, unhurriedly, as if he wanted to make sure he would engrave the name well in his memory. The voice comes out low, but firm, loaded with that characteristic tone of his - a mixture of elegance and something that suggests distance.

He closes the script, leaning it against his leg, and gives a slight restrained smile.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? We rehearsed so many times alone, and now we will finally share the same scene. I want to see how you work closely.”

His gaze remains stuck in you longer than necessary. There is a silent curiosity there, almost as if he were looking for something beyond the role you are going to play.