The fluorescent lights above the backstage area hummed softly, mixing with the faint echo of screaming fans outside the arena. Posters of the K-pop group Eclipse lined the hallway, their dazzling smiles immortalized on glossy paper. Staff members scurried like ants, adjusting microphones, rushing costumes into garment racks, and double-checking stage lighting cues.

For Ji-eun, this chaos was her sanctuary. Her world didn’t revolve around stages or spotlight it revolved around faces. More precisely, the artistry of transforming those faces. As one of the youngest rising makeup artists in Seoul, she had clawed her way up through endless sleepless nights and countless unpaid gigs.

She pulled her tool kit closer, taking a steadying breath. Her fingers, stained faintly with foundation pigments, tapped against the table. She scanned the schedule again, her eyes freezing on the name written in bold letters:

Seo Min-jae.

Her throat tightened. The Seo Min-jae. Lead vocalist of Eclipse, Korea’s top boy group. Known not just for his velvet voice but also for his impossible visuals. Millions adored him. And today, Ji-eun was assigned to do his stage makeup.

Her heart raced. Calm down, Ji-eun. He’s just another client. Another face. You’ve got this.

The door opened, and with it, came an aura that shifted the entire atmosphere. Min-jae walked in, dressed casually in sweats and a plain white tee. No makeup, no stage persona—just a man who carried the kind of natural charisma that made even the air around him feel warmer.

“Min-jae-ssi, this is your artist for today,” the coordinator said, gesturing toward Ji-eun.

Ji-eun bowed deeply, forcing her nerves into submission. “Annyeonghaseyo. Kim Ji-eun imnida. I’ll be doing your makeup.”

Min-jae’s gaze fell on her. His eyes soft, brown, piercing—seemed to study her face for a second longer than necessary. Then a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Ji-eun-ssi,” he said, his voice deep and unhurried. “Please take care of me.”

Ji-eun motioned for him to sit. Her hands felt foreign as she reached for her brushes. She focused on the palette, anything but his eyes. “Of course. This won’t take long.”

Min-jae sat silently at first, but his presence was anything but silent. Ji-eun adjusted the light and leaned in close, her brush sweeping over his flawless skin. Her breath caught slightly when their eyes met in the mirror. He caught it too - his lips curved into a teasing grin.

“You seem nervous,” he murmured, breaking the silence.

Ji-eun blinked, her brush halting mid-stroke. “Me? N-no, not at all. Why would I be nervous?”

He chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated through the air. “Because you’ve been holding your breath for the last thirty seconds.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Oh god, he noticed. She forced a laugh. “I just…concentrate when I work.”

“Mm,” he said, his gaze still locked with hers in the mirror. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then. You’re the first person who looks like they’re trying to solve an exam question while touching my face.”

Ji-eun rolled her eyes, trying to mask the sudden flutter in her chest. “Maybe your face is the exam question.”

The banter slipped out before she could stop herself. Min-jae tilted his head slightly, surprised and then he laughed, a genuine laugh that lit up his entire face.

It was disarming. Beautiful. Dangerous.

Ji-eun’s brush wavered in her hand, dangerously close to slipping. Focus, Ji-eun. For heaven’s sake, he’s a client. He’s a star. You’re just -

“Are you always this witty with your clients?” he asked, voice playful.

“Only with the ones who fidget too much,” she shot back.

His lips curved again. “I’ll take that as permission to keep fidgeting then.”

Ji-eun suppressed a groan. This man is trouble.

The rest of the session blurred into charged silence and teasing remarks. Min-jae wasn’t just another idol. He was warm, approachable in a way she hadn’t expected. He watched her hands as if fascinated, asking small questions: why she chose certain tones, why the brush moved at certain angles. He listened, not out of boredom, but with real interest.

For Ji-eun, who was used to stars treating her like furniture, it was unsettling.

Finally, she set down her brush. “Done.”

Min-jae leaned closer to the mirror, examining his reflection. He turned his head slightly left and right, then smirked. “Perfect. No - better than perfect.”

Ji-eun crossed her arms. “Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

He looked at her then, really looked. “You should smile when you say things like that. It makes people believe you even more.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to smile, but professionalism won. “Go do your stage. Don’t mess up the makeup I worked hard on.”

He stood, tall and radiant even in casual clothes, and gave her a small nod. “Then stay and watch. See if your work survives the stage lights.”

Ji-eun’s lips parted, caught off guard. Stay? Watch?

But before she could answer, Min-jae was gone, swept away by his manager and stylists, swallowed by the chaos of pre-show preparations.

Ji-eun sat frozen, her brushes still scattered, her heartbeat hammering in her ears.

This can’t be happening. He’s a star. He’s untouchable. And you—you’re just the girl behind the brush.

But deep inside, something dangerous had already begun to bloom.

The roar of the crowd hit Ji-eun like a tidal wave. From the backstage observation room, she could see Min-jae on stage, lit by dazzling spotlights that made his every movement glow. The fans screamed in perfect unison, waving light sticks that painted the arena in a sea of colors.

Ji-eun gripped the edge of the glass panel, her heart pounding. Her hands, which were usually steady when holding brushes and palettes, shook slightly. He’s…so alive on stage. So different.

Min-jae’s eyes scanned the crowd, but then, for just a heartbeat, they flicked toward the backstage window where Ji-eun sat. A small smile, only for her. Her stomach flipped.

Focus, Ji-eun. You’re just watching a performance. That’s it.

And yet, every note he sang seemed to pull her deeper. She remembered the way his laugh had made her heart skip yesterday, the way he leaned in so casually, yet so intimately, during makeup.

⸻

The Afterparty

After the concert, Ji-eun stayed behind to touch up Min-jae for interviews. The press had been relentless, snapping photos, asking him about his rumored romance, and the ever-present paparazzi waiting outside.

Min-jae leaned back in his chair, exhausted but still impossibly charming. “You stayed?” he asked, eyes half-lidded with fatigue.

Ji-eun nodded. “I promised I’d make sure you looked perfect. That’s my job.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know. That’s why I like having you around. You’re…different from everyone else. You don’t act starstruck.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “I…try not to. Stars get nervous sometimes too, you know.”

Min-jae chuckled, leaning closer. “Maybe. But I’m not nervous when I’m around you.”

Ji-eun’s pulse raced. She wanted to say something—something daring—but the room suddenly felt small, suffocating, and yet intimate. She cleared her throat. “Your schedule’s packed. You should rest.”

Before she could move, Min-jae caught her wrist gently. “Stay with me a little longer. I like…this. Us.”

Ji-eun swallowed hard, torn between professionalism and the fluttering feeling she couldn’t ignore. He’s saying “us.” He means me.

⸻

An Unexpected Encounter

Just as she was about to respond, the door opened. A tall figure stepped in, dressed in a crisp blazer and casual jeans, carrying a tablet and a polite smile.

“Ji-eun-ssi?” the man asked, voice calm but warm.

She blinked. “Yes…?”

“I’m Park Joon-ho. We met at the fashion shoot last month.” His gaze lingered on her for a beat, and she felt a strange familiarity, though she barely remembered him.

Min-jae’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Joon-ho? What brings you here?”

“I was coordinating the drama crossover event. I needed to check the schedules for tomorrow’s shoot.” Joon-ho smiled politely but his eyes, dark and observant, didn’t leave Ji-eun. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”

Ji-eun quickly shook her head. “No, not at all.” She felt a pang of guilt. Why do I feel…something just by seeing him?

Min-jae, however, noticed her hesitation. “Don’t worry. Ji-eun and I were just finishing up. You can join if you like.”

Joon-ho nodded, but his gaze softened as he looked at her. “It’s been a while, Ji-eun-ssi. You’ve…changed. In a good way.”

Ji-eun blinked, caught off guard by his words. Min-jae, sensing the tension, nudged her lightly with his elbow. “See? You make friends everywhere.”

Ji-eun forced a smile, but internally, something stirred. Joon-ho was calm, quiet, and observant—different from the chaotic energy of Min-jae. Yet somehow…intriguing.

⸻

Late-Night Walk

After the interviews, Min-jae insisted on walking Ji-eun to the subway. The city was alive, neon lights reflecting on wet streets from the earlier rain.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Min-jae said, slipping his hand into hers.

Ji-eun looked up, startled. “I’m…thinking about work. And schedules.”

“Mm,” he hummed, drawing her closer. “I like it when you’re quiet. Makes me think you’re just…all mine for a second.”

Her heart stuttered. “Min-jae…”

He stopped, turning to face her fully. “I mean it. No cameras, no fans, just us.”

Ji-eun’s breath caught as his fingers brushed hers, and the world seemed to shrink around them. The city buzzed in the distance, but here, in this moment, there was only him.

⸻

The Triangle Begins

As Ji-eun descended into the subway, she didn’t notice a figure in the distance, leaning casually against a lamppost, watching them. Park Joon-ho’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes—something protective, something that hinted he wouldn’t step away so easily.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself. “She loves him… but maybe… she doesn’t know what she’s missing yet.”

⸻

The morning sun streamed into Ji-eun’s small apartment, illuminating her makeup brushes, palettes, and sketches scattered across the table. Her sonorous alarm was drowned out by the faint buzz of her phone—a message from Min-jae’s stylist:

“Min-jae needs you for a shoot today. Can you come to the studio by noon?”

Ji-eun tapped a quick reply, gathering her kit. She was used to the unpredictable chaos of working with celebrities, but somehow, every request from him felt different—like a heartbeat that resonated in her chest.

⸻

The Studio Encounter

The studio was bustling with lights, cameras, and assistants. Min-jae was already in front of the camera, his hair perfectly styled, his eyes reflecting the morning sun like polished amber. He looked up as she entered.

“Ji-eun-ssi,” he greeted, his usual charm softened by fatigue. “You came early.”

“I thought I’d get a head start. You have a busy day ahead.” She placed her bag down, fingers brushing against his hand accidentally as she pulled out a brush. Heat rushed to both their cheeks.

Min-jae raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You really enjoy making me flustered, don’t you?”

Ji-eun shook her head, pretending to focus on his hairline. “I’m strictly professional.”

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning closer as she applied the foundation. “Professional… but your heart isn’t.”

Her breath hitched. Why does he always know?

⸻

Joon-ho Steps In

From across the studio, someone cleared his throat. Ji-eun glanced up to see Park Joon-ho, casually leaning against a lighting stand, clipboard in hand.

“Morning, Ji-eun-ssi,” he said, voice smooth, calm. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” she replied, hiding the quickening of her pulse. Something about him—calm, observant, and quietly confident—always made her feel measured, grounded, yet intrigued.

Min-jae noticed the brief exchange and raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Park Joon-ho. I’m coordinating the promotional shoot,” he explained. His gaze lingered on Ji-eun for a beat too long. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Min-jae chuckled under his breath. “So, you’re one of those… quiet, mysterious types, huh?”

Joon-ho’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “I prefer subtlety over chaos.”

Ji-eun felt a pang of something she couldn’t name. Between Min-jae’s chaotic warmth and Joon-ho’s calm intensity, her heart was suddenly caught in a tug-of-war she didn’t anticipate.

⸻

A Moment Alone

During a break, Ji-eun stepped outside to catch her breath, the faint scent of cherry blossoms filling the air. Joon-ho appeared beside her, leaning casually on the balcony railing.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he remarked softly, eyes scanning the city below.

Ji-eun frowned. “I’m fine. Min-jae… he expects me to be ready at all times. I can handle it.”

Joon-ho shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not my concern. Mine is that you’re always running yourself into exhaustion. You should care about yourself too.”

His words, gentle but firm, struck a chord. She looked at him, trying to hide the sudden warmth in her chest. “Thank you. But I’m okay.”

He gave a small nod, seemingly accepting her answer. Yet, when she turned back toward the studio, she realized her hands were trembling slightly.

⸻

Unexpected Chemistry

Back on set, Min-jae’s energy was electric. As she adjusted his eyeliner, he whispered, “You know, the way you focus… it’s addictive. I could watch you like this forever.”

Ji-eun’s cheeks heated. “Stop teasing me.”

“Am I teasing? Or speaking the truth?” His breath brushed against her ear as he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary.

Before she could answer, Joon-ho’s voice rang from the side. “Min-jae, you need to adjust the lighting for the angle. We can’t ruin the composition.”

Ji-eun froze, the tension palpable. Min-jae’s lips twitched, but he stepped back, giving Joon-ho a calculating look.

So this is him. Calm. Steady. Observing. Waiting.

The rest of the shoot was a delicate balance of energy. Min-jae’s flirtatious warmth clashed subtly with Joon-ho’s quiet intensity. Ji-eun found herself moving between them like a dancer caught in a rhythm she didn’t choose.

⸻

Late Evening Confessions

After the shoot ended, Ji-eun walked home, her mind a storm. Min-jae’s charm was intoxicating; every smile, every word, every lingering look tugged at her heart. And yet, she couldn’t shake the memory of Joon-ho’s calm presence—the way he had watched over her, protected her space without making a scene.

She sank onto her couch, staring at the ceiling. I love Min-jae… but there’s something about Joon-ho I can’t ignore. Something… safe. Something I didn’t know I needed.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Min-jae:

“Sleep well, my makeup artist. Dream about me.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, heart fluttering.

Then another message, from Joon-ho:

“Don’t overwork yourself. You deserve rest, Ji-eun-ssi.”

She stared at the two messages, her heart caught between chaos and calm.

This… this is going to be complicated.

———