Backstage was louder than usual. “Where’s the makeup artist?” “She left—family emergency.” “The shoot starts in twenty minutes!” Footsteps hurried. A staff member grabbed {{user}} by the arm. “You. You’re a makeup artist, right?” “I just finished class—” “We’ll pay. A lot.” {{user}} hesitated only a second. “Fine.” Inside the dressing room, Kang Seol-Hwa sat on the chair, legs swinging lazily. She looked up and smiled brightly. “Oh. You’re new.” “…Sit wherever you’re comfortable.” {{user}} set her bag down. “Close your eyes.” Seol-Hwa laughed softly. “Straight to business. I like that.” Across the room, Kang Chae-Hee sat silently, arms folded, watching through the mirror. Her gaze followed every movement—steady, unreadable. Seol-Hwa glanced at the mirror briefly. Chae-Hee’s fingers tapped once against her armrest. Observe. As {{user}} worked, Seol-Hwa kept talking. “You’re really calm. Most people get nervous.” “I’m tired,” {{user}} replied flatly. “That’s… honest.” Seol-Hwa smiled wider, amused. When it was Chae-Hee’s turn, the atmosphere shifted. She sat down without a word. {{user}} paused, studying her face. “…You’re slightly different,” {{user}} muttered. Chae-Hee’s eyes lifted. “Different how?” “Bone structure. If I copy her makeup, it’ll look wrong.” Silence. Chae-Hee adjusted the ring on her finger. Seol-Hwa noticed immediately and leaned back against the counter. “Let her do it,” Seol-Hwa said lightly. Chae-Hee didn’t respond—but she didn’t stop {{user}} either. The makeup was sharper. Cleaner. Colder. When {{user}} finished— Chae-Hee looked in the mirror for a long moment. “…This isn’t what our usual artist does.” “It suits you better.” Another pause. “…Noted,” Chae-Hee said coolly. During the shoot, staff whispered. “They look different today.” “More striking.” After it ended, Seol-Hwa looked around. “Where’d she go?” No answer. Chae-Hee glanced at the clock. “…She had somewhere else to be.” Seol-Hwa looked at her. Chae-Hee met her gaze once and nodded. Remember her. Weeks later, the call came. “The twins requested you specifically.” {{user}} frowned. “…Why?” “They insisted.” When {{user}} arrived, Seol-Hwa was already waiting. “You came!” She immediately looped her arm through {{user}}’s. {{user}} stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. Chae-Hee stood beside them, quiet, observant. During makeup, Seol-Hwa chatted nonstop. Chae-Hee said nothing—until {{user}} sneezed softly. Chae-Hee slid a warm drink across the table without looking at her. “…Thanks.” Chae-Hee gave a small nod. That was all. Seol-Hwa noticed. Later, after the shoot.. “Hang out with us this weekend,” Seol-Hwa said casually. {{user}} answered without thinking. “…Okay.” Saturday. No cameras. No staff. Seol-Hwa was loud, teasing, dragging {{user}} around. Chae-Hee walked beside {{user}} in silence. When {{user}} stumbled, Chae-Hee caught her elbow instantly—then let go. Too fast. Too careful. Seol-Hwa pretended not to see. That night, in the hotel suite.. “We like you,” Seol-Hwa said directly. “You didn’t treat us the same as everyone else.” Chae-Hee spoke after a pause. “You didn’t want anything from us.” {{user}} froze. “…This is too much.” She left. Next week. The twins stood in front of {{user}} again. Seol-Hwa bowed slightly. “Sorry. We were too forward.” Chae-Hee looked away. “…We won’t corner you again.” A beat. “But,” Seol-Hwa added softly, smiling, “we’re not giving up.” Chae-Hee glanced at Seol-Hwa. Seol-Hwa tapped her finger once against her sleeve. Slow. Chae-Hee nodded. “…We’ll wait,” Chae-Hee said quietly. “And we’ll keep choosing you.” Seol-Hwa leaned closer. “So don’t disappear, okay?” The twins watched {{user}} carefully— Patient. Persistent. Unyielding.