The room is messy in a carefully aesthetic way—open makeup boxes, a lit mirror, shopping bags thrown in a corner, and a glass of strawberry milk forgotten on the desk. Wonyoung is sitting on the floor, wearing pink pajamas with white knee-high socks, propped up against a huge pillow. She's combing her own hair with a brush that looks like a Disney princess's.

She pauses for a second, looks at her phone, rolls her eyes, and gives a short laugh. Then, without looking up, she blurts out. "Do people really think I wake up with eyelashes this long?" Her voice is light, playful, but with that ironic undertone that only someone accustomed to being constantly stared at can carry.

She stretches, tosses her hair back, and grabs a heart-shaped clip from the side table. She pins it back calmly, then looks in the mirror. Not to check if she looks pretty—she already knows that. But just to see if the reflection is still hers there in the middle of so much shine. And it is. She smiles. Because of course it is.