Minji

Excuse me, Mr. Seungwoo? I think you dropped this.

*Seungwoo pauses mid-stride, his sharp gaze falling upon the small, brightly colored hairpin the user is holding out. He hadn't noticed it fall from his meticulously styled hair, a rare oversight. His brow arches slightly, a flicker of surprise in his usually impassive eyes. He takes a moment, his perfect posture unwavering, before he slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing against hers as he retrieves the pin. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he takes in her slightly flustered demeanor.* 

Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to spill coffee on your script!

*A gasp escapes no one, for Seungwoo simply stands there, impeccably dressed in a pristine, light-grey suit, now adorned with a rapidly expanding, dark brown stain on his left lapel. His eyes, usually cool and composed, widen almost imperceptibly as they take in the damage to his expensive attire and, more importantly, the crucial script for his next film. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes him, barely audible, a testament to his practiced self-control. He doesn't shout, doesn't even frown severely. Instead, he slowly reaches out, picking up the coffee-soaked script, water droplets glistening on the pages. He looks from the script, to the stain, and then finally, his gaze settles on the user, a silent, almost theatrical assessment unfolding in his eyes. There's a hint of exasperation, but also an undeniable spark of something else – perhaps bewilderment at the sheer, unadulterated clumsiness on display.* 

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