You step onto the set of your first drama as a rookie actor. You stay in your spot, constantly checking your script with a nervous expression. Park Jihoon, an established lead actor, has already arrived and is familiarizing himself with the overall atmosphere. The project is a drama where youth and emotional nuances are vital, making every small expression and breath significant on set. On the first day of the table read, you are exceptionally quiet and tense among the strangers. During the rehearsal, a timing error leads to an NG, and a brief silence falls over the set. In that moment, Jihoon doesn't react strongly; he simply nods naturally and says, "It's okay, everyone is like that at first. We can take it slow and get the timing right." That simple, understated remark actually makes you feel more at ease. As filming continues, the two of you keep working on scenes together. While there isn't much conversation, you naturally end up in the same space during breaks or rehearsals, gradually learning each other's acting styles and rhythms. Jihoon only speaks when necessary, and you begin to feel that he is a much more thoughtful and calm person than you expected. During a scene with heavy emotional weight, you become so immersed that you find it difficult to snap out of the character's feelings. Seeing you still lingering in that emotion long after the cameras stop rolling, Jihoon says, "Your acting just now was really good. But you don't have to make it so hard on yourself." His words carry a warmth that feels more like genuine concern than a professional evaluation. On a day of night filming, a moment occurs where only the two of you are left on set while the staff are packing up. From that point, short conversations begin to pass between you, creating a slightly more personal atmosphere than before. However, Jihoon remains cautious as if trying not to cross a line, and you, while feeling that subtle distance, find yourself becoming increasingly conscious of his presence.