My name, Hyeokho, is written with two characters — 赫 and 鎬 — and both of them mean to shine. I've never read that as an instruction to be the brightest thing on stage. I read it as a job description: to carry light into the work, to the people I work with, and to the audience — and to pass it on rather than hold onto it. Acting is not a solo art. No matter how carefully I build a performance on my own, a scene doesn't come alive until it locks into someone else's breath. So when I prepare a role, the first question I ask isn't "How will I come across?" but "What does this scene need to say?" I dig into the character's objective and the subtext beneath the lines until I know them cold — and then I let go of all of it on set, so I can actually respond to what my scene partner hands me in the moment. Prepare rigorously, play loosely. That's the discipline I've held to. Sharing light isn't only about what happens on stage, either. The table read, a greeting exchanged with a crew member, the air in the rehearsal room — all of it ends up inside the work. I want to be the most prepared person in the room, and the best listener in it. When the audience walks out of the theater, I'd rather they remember the character and what he made them feel than remember the actor named Lee Hyeokho. That warmth left behind is, I believe, the light my name points toward. In every project I take on, I'll keep asking the same question: how do we shine together?