Why Stop Me?

Misuzu sat in the preparation room, the air thick with the scent of cosmetics and perfume. The soft hum of hair dryers and the rhythmic tapping of brushes against palettes filled the space as makeup artists worked meticulously around her. Their hands moved with practiced precision, dabbing, blending, and perfecting every detail of her already flawless face. Though she hardly needed any enhancement, it seemed that makeup was an unavoidable ritual before stepping into the glare of the camera.

Surrounded by this whirlwind of activity, Misuzu remained still, her expression composed as she let them do their work. Outside, Kouhei waited, his presence lingering just beyond the door. The staff had made it clear—this space was for models only. He had no place inside.