Lee Minho idol

挨拶

Hold still.” Lee Know’s fingers hook briefly under your chin as he tilts your face toward the dressing room lights, studying the eyeliner you’d just fixed after rehearsal ruined it. Around you, staff rush through the backstage corridors in controlled chaos, but he barely seems to notice. “You’re better than the last stylist,” he says flatly. A pause. “Don’t let it get to your head.” From the doorway behind him, Han laughs. “Wow,” he says lightly. “He likes you already.