【 ⚬━━━♔━━ 。 。━━♚━━━。】

❲♢ 𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪𝗦 ━━ 183,923,447

The room was dimly lit with soft golden hues, warm and quiet except for the gentle hum of recording equipment. Hana sat poised in front of the binaural microphones, her posture flawless, her presence serene. A delicate silk blouse flowed around her frame like water, and her hair was styled simply, tucked behind her ears to reveal the glint of elegant earrings.

She leaned in, a soft smile curving her lips.

"Hello W Magazine... it's Hana," she whispered, her voice smooth like velvet brushing against skin, "and today we're going to be exploring ASMR."

A staff member handed her a small, battery-less keyboard. Hana placed it on her lap and let her fingers drift naturally across the keys, her nails softly tapping, creating rhythmic clicks. Then, without thinking, she began playing the melody of one of her songs—Snowman—in the air.

"When me and my siblings were growing up," she began softly, letting the plastic keys clack as she paused between sentences, "my parents demanded that we play instruments... and sports. I'm grateful they made us do that."

Her words were measured, melodic.

"From age four, I was taught piano. Every two to three weeks, I had recitals. Full shows. I'd be in little dresses, performing for guests. At the time, I didn't realize how much it would shape me, but later—when I trained in Korea to become a singer—it made things... a lot easier. Performing already felt natural."

The keys clicked again beneath her light fingers.

"Most of my songs... I start them here," she said, running a slow hand over the keyboard. "Even when I'm traveling, I keep a keyboard with me. I never know when inspiration will hit. That's how I composed 4:00 A.M., Snowman, and Fly-Day Chinatown."

Her eyes closed, and in the stillness of the room, she began to hum—then whisper-sing—the choruses of all three songs. Her voice was airy, intimate, like breath across your neck. Those behind the camera stopped breathing altogether, entranced.

Hana's hands moved toward her jewelry next. She removed her bracelets slowly, one by one, letting the metal chime gently against itself. A subtle clink... a soft brush... a glimmer of gold.

She held up her hand to the camera.

"This," she said, motioning to her wedding ring, "is my favorite piece."

A brilliant band of gold, set with white and blue diamonds and sapphire, glittered as she turned it slowly in the light.

"Gold looks best on me," she said matter-of-factly, her tone never rising above a whisper. "It matches my skin tone... but in winter, I'll wear silver to match my cool tone. But blue? Blue, I wear all year round."

She paused. Her voice dipped into something deeper, more personal.

"I look at the world through blue-tinted lenses. It's a color that represents my soul."

Her fingers grazed the microphone gently as if trying to pass the emotion directly through it.

"When I met my husband, we just... clicked. It was shocking, really, how much we had in common. People say being too similar is boring. That you'll run out of things to talk about. But we didn't. We never have."

She smiled to herself.

"He understands me. Knows me. That's rare. That's why this ring is perfect. Gold and blue."

Then, she leaned in closer, switching to the second mic, her voice suddenly sharper, focused.

"I think we're still in our honeymoon stage. And I don't believe we'll ever leave it. Marriage doesn't have to be hard. If it is..."

Her eyes locked with the lens, unwavering.

"Then they're not the one."

A gentle pause. Then came the rustle of plastic. A pastel pink bag was placed before her. Hana gasped with delight, her voice lifting in surprise.

"My favorite," she whispered.

She held up the snack, crinkling the packaging gently for the mic.

"Koala's March. One of my favorite snacks ever. When I was little, I'd eat these after dinner. They were the perfect dessert."

She opened the bag carefully and pulled one out, holding it delicately between her fingers.

"When they started selling these in Korea, I was over the moon. But even when I'm far from East Asia... I always have one on me."

A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in one final time.

"There's one in my bag right now."

The screen faded to soft blue as the mic picked up one final sound—Hana's slow, satisfied crunch.

After the sweet crunch of the Koala's March biscuit faded into the stillness, a large vintage globe was gently rolled in front of Hana. She gasped softly, a sound of genuine delight, and leaned closer, her fingers brushing the aged paper surface with reverence.

"I love globes," she whispered, tracing the equator with a light touch. "I collect them."

A thin silver marker was placed beside her. She uncapped it with a quiet click and began circling tiny dots across East Asia.

"Let's start here..."

Her voice became a soft narration as she gently circled locations on the globe.

"Tokyo... Kyoto... Sapporo. Then Seoul, of course—my second home. Busan... Jeju Island. Taipei, Kaohsiung, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Beijing, Hangzhou, Ulaanbaatar..."

Her hand moved steadily as she continued listing places, her voice rhythmic, calming.

"Bangkok. Ho Chi Minh. Kuala Lumpur. Jakarta. Manila. Singapore. Hanoi. Then across the ocean... Sydney. Auckland. All of Australia, really. I've performed in Perth and Brisbane too."

She smiled fondly.

"There's almost no country I haven't been to now. Africa, Europe, South America... I've been so lucky. I always try to make time to actually explore each place—even just for a day. Food, language, art, nature. I circle them all so I don't forget."

She gently tapped a few circles with her nail. "And here's where I'll go next..." she whispered like it was a secret, tapping a remote part of Iceland.

A new object was brought to her: a beautiful spread of flowers and stems of different lengths, textures, and hues. She lit up once more.

"I'm going to make a bouquet," she said, softly lifting a peony, crinkling its petals gently into the microphone. "Most people don't know this, but in Japanese, my name—Hana—means flower."

She selected a pale blue hydrangea and tucked it beside a white tulip.

"I like to reflect that in everything I do. My solo albums always have floral imagery. Each song... I see it as a different bloom. Some are soft and romantic like a daisy, some are fierce and passionate like fire lilies. My debut solo stage was literally covered in petals raining down from the ceiling."

She delicately tied the bouquet together with a silk ribbon, brushing the satin against the mic.

"I feel like flowers are my symbol. Growth, vulnerability, resilience, beauty. Quiet but powerful."

The camera panned down as she picked up a badminton racket resting against her seat.

She let it sway lightly in the air, the strings humming faintly as her nails tapped against the frame.

"This... is my old badminton racket. I used to play all the time as a teenager. I was actually quite good," she said with a shy laugh. "But I never took it seriously enough to go pro. I was already balancing music and school, and I always knew... singing was the one."

She swung it lightly, pretending to hit a shuttlecock, her movements graceful and fluid.

"But I still play sometimes with my siblings when we're home together. They never let me win."

Suddenly, a glossy copy of W Magazine was placed before her. On the cover: Sol, fierce and radiant, draped in couture. Hana's expression lit up with recognition and adoration.

"Oh—Sol!" she whispered excitedly, tracing the edge of the cover with her fingertip. "She's so stunning here. I remember this shoot..."

She gently outlined Sol's face with her finger, pausing on her sharp jawline.

"Her bone structure is crazy. We've known each other for years, since we were teenagers... I wasn't expecting her to make an appearance in this video."

Hana laughed softly, her voice laced with mischief. She began flipping through the pages slowly, letting each turn of the magazine fill the mic with a satisfying crinkle.

"She's... luminous. That kind of presence can't be taught."

She tapped her nails against Sol's page one last time before hugging the magazine to her chest like a dear friend.

Leaning into the mic once more, she whispered with a warm smile:

"Thank you for spending this quiet time with me. I hope you felt relaxed."

The camera lingered for a moment as Hana's fingers brushed gently over the final page—flowers, gold, blue, and a world covered in shimmering silver circles.

【 ⚬━━━♔━━ 。 。━━♚━━━。】