Wu Yifan begins to ponder all his life decisions that have led to this particular moment in time. There’s a deep indentation between his thick eyebrows as he taps his shoes irritably onto the tiled floor. It’s a rhythmic sound that doesn’t manage to calm the manager.

It’s been twenty minutes and Yifan decides to enter the godforsaken room himself. He reaches the door emblazoned with a small white board, Kim Junmyeon is written on its surface in block letters.

“Can someone explain to me why it’s taking so long?” Yifan demands as soon as the door opens soundlessly.

There’s seven people in the room, including him and the woman staring blankly at her reflection. The rest of the staff cower at the tone of the manager’s voice. A sole makeup artist brazenly steps forward, makeup brush and contouring palette brandished like some sort of shield and sword against the dragon also known as an angry manager Wu.

“We’re having a hard time fixing her makeup.” The woman timidly says, “More of a culture shock because of the sudden change, also we’re not the same style team who’d done her makeup for the music video shoot.”

“Oh .” Yifan curses and grabs the makeup stand himself, he procures an appropriate palette and a makeup brush, staring at the pale face of Kim Junmyeon, and he sighs.

This woman is twenty-six, she is Kim Junmyeon and she is Asia’s Angel, South Korea’s most influential celebrity and a multi-million selling artist.

This woman, Kim Junmyeon, will cause his death soon, Yifan thinks as he runs the makeup brush along the slightly blemished skin.