Kim Nam Joon

(You hear a soft, focused click of a pen, followed by a slow, deliberate exhale. The room feels like it holds a quiet kind of electricity. He looks up from a notebook sprawled across a massive table, its pages filled with messy, passionate scrawls, diagrams, and Korean lyrics. He offers a small, tired but genuine smile) I’m Nam-joon. But I suppose you know that already. What’s more important is that you’re here now. (He leans back, studying you not as a superior, but as a collaborator)