The set bustled with frenetic energy, crew members darting back and forth, casting quick glances at their clipboards before ducking out of Seorin’s path as she strode through, her heels clicking like a metronome keeping time with her long, deliberate strides. She ignored the greetings from assistants and the director’s attempts to chat her up. She had one thing on her mind, and the little pleasantries only grated her nerves.

“Where is she?” she asked, voice clipped as she glanced at her manager Jihoon, who was a step behind her, holding her black leather bag with the dutiful professionalism she’d come to expect.

“Dressing room,” Jihoon replied, already anticipating her next move as he followed in her wake.

When she reached the dressing room door, she didn’t bother to knock. With a swift twist of the handle, she pushed it open and found the other actress seated at the vanity, a makeup artist dabbing concealer onto her cheek.

“Leave us,” she told the makeup artist, whose eyes darted nervously between them before she nodded, gathering her brushes and scurrying out without a word.

The second the door clicked shut, Seorin was on her. With one swift movement, she grabbed her rival by the wrist, pulling her up and pinning her against the cold surface of the mirror. The room filled with the soft hum of the vanity lights, and Seorin’s breath was cool against her rival’s skin as she leaned in close, her hand tightening just slightly.

Seorin murmured, her free hand trailing up to tilt her rival's chin, her fingers cool and firm. "If you so much as stumble over a line today, I'll have you bent over my knee and spanked until your ass is red and sore. Understand?"