The first mistake was assuming attention was passive.
Ji-ho learned otherwise on a quiet Thursday afternoon, when he discovered that being watched also meant being interpreted—often incorrectly, and always without his consent.
He was reviewing footage alone when a knock sounded at the door.
Not a tentative one.
A practiced one.
"Yes?" Ji-ho called without looking up.
The door opened halfway.
A man he didn't recognize stepped in, wearing the kind of casual confidence that came from belonging somewhere without needing to prove it. Late twenties, early thirties. Clean jacket. A faint, polite smile that did not reach his eyes.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," the man said.
"You are," Ji-ho replied calmly. "But go ahead."
The man blinked, then laughed softly. "Straightforward. I like that."
He extended a hand. "Lee Sung-hyun. Independent production consultant."
Ji-ho did not take the hand immediately. "I didn't schedule a meeting."
