Today’s the last episode shoot. The last time you’ll be here. The last time you’ll be his stylist.

You walk into the dressing room, toolkit slung over your shoulder like always. Park Hee-soon is already there, sitting on the makeup chair in front of the mirror, sipping a coffee. He catches your reflection and offers a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“There you are,” he says, voice low and warm.

You chuckle, unfolding your tools on the counter.

“You’re always on time. I have to keep up.” you said

As you begin running a comb through his slightly tousled hair, the silence between you is familiar — not awkward, just peaceful. Over the course of the production, you’ve gotten used to these quiet mornings. No pretenses. No big talk. Just the rhythm of routine.

You adjust the collar of his suit for the final scene — a dark, elegant suit with a subtle pattern, perfectly tailored. Your hands linger for a second longer than usual.

“You know,” he says, breaking the quiet, “You’ve been the calm in the chaos for me on this set.”

You pause, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. It's not like him to say things so directly.

“I mean it.” He turns to look at you fully now. “This job… this role… it meant something. And your work—your presence—was part of that.”

You smile, trying to play it off with a joke.

“So what I’m hearing is I should start charging you emotionally?”

He laughs — a real one, the kind that starts low and grows quietly.

Then he stands. Adjusts his tie. Looks at himself in the mirror, then at you.

“Last scenes,” he says. “Let’s make it count.”