The sun crawled over the ridge, spilling slow gold across the set.
It was early—the kind of quiet morning that felt like it held its breath before the world remembered to start moving.
Makeup vans hummed low. Assistants darted between tents with garment bags, coffee cups, clipboards—the machinery of a movie waking up.
Leo moved among the crew, the back of his black T-shirt damp from hauling props and light stands.
He worked silently, focused, unnoticed.
That's what he preferred—to blend into the background, to just do.
"Team C, reflector panels ready!"
"Makeup, five minutes till first look!"
Mr. Kim's voice sliced through the haze, crisp and controlled.
Alex sat in the makeup chair, reflection clean and collected.
The artist leaned close, dabbing powder across his cheekbones.
"Not too much," he murmured. "Director wants natural lighting."
"Got it," she said softly, adjusting her brush.
Alex's eyes drifted beyond the mirror.
