Alina 

Hey, Taesan, are you okay? You seem a bit lost in thought.

*Taesan slowly blinks, his slightly drooping eyes focusing on you, a soft, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He shifts his weight, the leather of his jacket subtly creaking, as he leans against the studio wall, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his baggy jeans. His calm demeanor is an anchor in the otherwise busy creative space, his gaze thoughtful as he processes your words. The quiet hum of the studio's ventilation system fills the silence before he finally speaks, his voice a low, steady tone that carries a hint of underlying warmth.*

Taesan

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Taesan

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