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The sun was setting, offering the earth a brief farewell before returning again another day. The evening was preparing itself for night and its coldness. People were wrapped in heavy coats and scarves—just another ordinary winter day.
A tall young man stood in front of the gates of a grand theater, already mesmerized before even stepping inside. He had black hair, sharp unforgettable features, and wore a heavy brown coat with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.
“Ahem… the theater won’t open for the ballet performance for another thirty minutes.”
He turned toward the voice, slightly embarrassed.
“Oh—no, no. I actually just wanted to see the theater where I’ll be performing my musical next month.”
The staff member gave him a small apologetic smile.
“Mm… I can’t let you in right now. Why don’t you come back in a little while and watch the ballet performance first?”
Well.
He knew absolutely nothing about ballet, and honestly, he had never cared much for it. But he had nothing else to do anyway.
So he wandered around nearby, trying to waste time.
As people slowly began arriving at the theater, he silently thanked God that he had chosen decent enough clothes—nothing too casual that would make him stand out awkwardly among the elegant crowd that clearly belonged to places like this.
Finally, the doors opened.
The moment he stepped inside, he froze.
The theater was unbelievably beautiful.
The ceiling and walls were covered in delicate golden details, every design carved with impossible elegance. Gorgeous silk curtains framed the stage like something out of a dream. The entire place looked like the very definition of beauty itself.
He couldn’t believe that in just one month, he would be standing there—on that very stage—singing at the top of his lungs.
It wasn’t his first musical.
But it was his first truly big one.
Big names. A leading role. A real chance.
Maybe that was why his chest felt so full.
He found his seat in the very last row.
Well… what else had he expected from buying a ticket only thirty minutes before the performance?
As he sat there, half-lost in dreams of himself performing on that stage, the lights suddenly dimmed.
Silence.
Then soft music began to play.
And he walked in.
A ballet dancer stepped onto the stage with elegant, gentle movements.
He had soft brown hair, wide sorrowful eyes, and wore a flowing white silk costume with long delicate fabric falling from his sleeves. Under the stage lights, he looked almost unreal.
Like a sad, fallen angel.
And then he began to dance.
Every movement was graceful. Every turn was soft and sharp at once. His expression carried something painfully beautiful—something lonely, something aching.
Even someone who knew nothing about ballet could feel it.
He could feel it.
Time passed without him noticing.
He had only come to see the theater.
That was all.
Yet somehow, he stayed completely still for the entire performance, unable to look away from that sad angel standing among the other dancers. They were all incredible, every single one of them, but somehow… his eyes kept returning to him.
He had never expected someone to move him like this without saying a single word.
No dialogue.
No voice.
Just movement.
And somehow, he understood.
Even without knowing anything about the world of ballet, he
understood.
When the performance ended, the entire theater rose into loud applause.
Everyone stood, clapping passionately for the dancers.
He stood too, still stunned, still trying to process what he had just seen.
Before he realized it, most of the audience had already left. Only a few people remained.
That was when he remembered why he had come here in the first place.
Seeing the opportunity, he decided to explore the theater a little more on his own.
He walked backstage with practiced confidence, hoping no one would stop him to ask where he was going. Thankfully, most people seemed too busy preparing to leave and celebrate the successful performance.
He wandered for several minutes.
Soon, the place became strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
For a second, he worried the theater might close and accidentally trap him inside.
And then—
Someone was singing.
He stopped.
The voice was beautiful.
Soft, sad, and almost poetic in the way it carried through the empty halls.
Without thinking, he followed it.
Step by step.
Until he reached one of the dressing rooms.
The door was slightly open.
And inside—
It was him.
The sad angel.
Still in pieces of his costume, standing alone beneath the soft yellow lights, singing to no one but himself.
He sounded even more beautiful like this.
Raw.
Human.
Real.
The song ended.
Before he could stop himself, his hands were already clapping softly in admiration.
The ballet dancer jumped in surprise.
“Ah!”
He turned quickly, clearly startled.
“I—I didn’t think anyone was still here!”
“No, no, no—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, nearly panicking. “I didn’t mean to spy on you. I just heard a beautiful voice and followed it. You have a beautiful voice—and you dance beautifully too. Thank you for the performance tonight. Really. Thank you. And I’m sorry for being rude. I’m really sorry.”
He bowed quickly in apology.
The dancer blinked, then let out a small laugh.
“It’s okay, really. You can lift your head. I just didn’t expect anyone to still be here. Usually everyone goes out for dinner and celebration after the performance.”
“Oh… then why didn’t you go with them"
He stopped himself immediately.
“Oh no. I’m sorry. I’m involving myself in things that don’t concern me again.”
“It’s fine,” the dancer said gently. “I just like sitting alone after a performance.”
There was a small silence between them.
Then—
“May I ask your name?”
He straightened instantly.
“Yes—yes. My name is Lee Seokmin. I’m a musical actor.”
The dancer smiled.
“Well then, Lee Seokmin… it’s nice to meet you.”
He stepped closer and offered his hand.
“I’m Boo Seungkwan. A ballet dancer, as you can see.”
And there it was—
A real smile.
Warm. Honest. Bright enough to make Seokmin forget how to breathe for a second.
“Oh—right. Yes. Well…”
He shook his hand, then immediately panicked again.
“I think I’m interrupting your private time, so—I should go now. Goodbye. And sorry again.”
He turned quickly toward the door, then stopped.
And before his courage could disappear, he said it.
“By the way… you’re very beautiful, Mr. Boo Seungkwan. And your performance was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a very long time.”
And then he ran.
Actually ran.
Face burning red, heart threatening to explode.
He couldn’t believe it.
Lee Seokmin—the shy, awkward Lee Seokmin—had actually said those words to someone he had met for the first time less than ten minutes ago.
Maybe the moment had carried him away.
Maybe he had completely lost his mind.
He lightly slapped his own face as he walked faster down the hallway.
“Don’t worry, Lee Seokmin. You’ll never see him again. No need to be embarrassed now.”
Back in the dressing room, Boo Seungkwan stood there in complete silence, still processing the entire storm that had just passed through his evening.
Then, slowly—
a small smile appeared.
A faint blush colored his cheeks.
He looked down at the hand Seokmin had shaken only moments ago.
“…His name is Lee Seokmin.”