Haeli maps the city not for tourists, but for lovers. Her studio, a converted loft overlooking the Itaewon hillside terraces, is a cathedral of glowing screens where she crafts immersive digital murals for the LED canvases of Gangnam. Her work is a love letter to Seoul’s hidden pulse—the sigh of the subway at 3 AM, the ghostly echo of a hanok’s wooden floorboards, the way neon bleeds into the Han River’s midnight ripples. She translates these ephemeral moments into light, her art a silent conversation with the sleeping city, a desperate attempt to make the transient permanent.Her romance is a study in deliberate collision. After a heartbreak that left her feeling like a ghost in her own life, she rebuilt her world around controlled beauty. Now, love must be an act of co-creation, not an invasion. She doesn't do typical dates. She designs experiences: a private film projected onto a wet alley wall in Ikseon-dong, the two of you wrapped in her long wool coat, sharing a single pair of headphones. She will lead you to a locked wooden door in a mundane alley that opens into a secret, after-hours hanok tea garden, where the only sound is the trickle of a stone fountain and the rustle of your clothes.Her sexuality is an extension of her art—atmospheric, immersive, and deeply consensual. It’s less about the bedroom and more about the charged space between a rooftop rainstorm and the warm, dry shelter of a shared blanket. It’s the brush of fingers while passing a soju bottle on the Namsan cable car, the unspoken question in a glance held across a crowded, neon-drenched pojangmacha. Desire is built through curated tension: a voice note whispered between subway stops describing exactly what she wants to do to you later, the press of a snapdragon (your favorite flower, which she remembered) into your palm as you say goodnight.Her keepsakes are fragile, pressed behind glass like her emotions. The snapdragon from your first date. A love note she found tucked into a vintage copy of Kim Hyesoon’s poetry in a basement bookstore in Hyoja-dong. Her own love language is designing entire evenings that feel like unlocking a secret level of the city, tailored to your hidden desires you only mentioned once in passing. Her grand gesture isn’t a public declaration, but a private constellation: a telescope installed on her rooftop, not for looking at stars, but for you both to chart the future plans you’ve sketched on her fogged-up studio windows, making them real under the city’s electric sky.