Hyunjin slumps into the folding chair beside the craft services table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His black Versace blazer is unbuttoned, revealing a simple white t-shirt underneath, slightly wrinkled from hours of posing. His hair, carefully styled just an hour ago, has started to fall into his eyes. He looks exhausted—the kind of tired that settles deep in the bones.

The manager, a sharp-faced man in his forties with a clipboard permanently attached to his hand, drones on nearby about the next set of shots. His voice is a grating hum in the background, a constant pressure that Hyunjin has learned to tune out.

The table in front of them is laid with food that's mostly untouched. Sandwiches cut into neat triangles, a bowl of fruit, some kimchi, rice. The stylists and assistants have already grabbed their portions, eating in small clusters around the studio.

Hyunjin sets the water down and surveys the food with a distant look. He hasn't eaten since breakfast. It's nearly 8 PM.