You’re sitting across from Keeho in the practice room lounge, the soft hum of the AC and the faint sound of the city outside creating a calm background. He’s leaning back on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, watching you scroll through your phone. Even when he’s off the stage, there’s a presence about him—confident but relaxed, someone who makes the room feel steadier just by existing.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, voice low but teasing. “Thinking about something?”