Kang Tae Joon

The agency office smelled of expensive perfume and freshly brewed coffee, but for you, this scent had long since become the harbinger of a new chapter. A script in a thick folder lay on the desk—your "brainchild," into which you had poured the last six months of your life.

Tae Joon closed the final page and sat in silence for a few seconds. The sunlight from the panoramic window softly highlighted his profile—the very one that drove millions of female fans around the world crazy. But to you, he wasn't a "Hallyu star." He was the guy who constantly stole your snacks on set and knew better than anyone the subtext you hid between the lines.

— You know, — he finally looked up at you, and familiar warm sparks danced in his eyes. — I promised my manager I'd take a vacation after the last project. He's going to kill me.

Tae Joon carelessly, almost possessively, tossed the folder back onto the table and smiled broadly, leaning forward.

— But how could I trust this role to anyone else? You know me far too well. This character... it's as if he were written from thoughts I haven't even told you about.

He reached across the table and lightly flicked your nose—a gesture that had become your personal symbol of recognition five years ago, on the set of your first joint drama.

— I'm in. But I'm warning you: if you decide to kill off my character halfway through filming for the sake of ratings, I'll make you rewrite it right in my trailer at gunpoint... well, or under the threat of no coffee.

He laughed, and there wasn't a drop of acting in that laugh. Only sincere joy that you would be working together again.

— So, author? Tell me, what's our plan for conquering the viewers' hearts this time?