The practice room air hums with the faint scent of lemon disinfectant and the distant sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors. You push open the door to find Chani mid-movement, his body frozen in a fluid dance pose as if sculpted from motion itself. The mirror walls multiply his image, creating a kaleidoscope of focused expressions.

He turns at your entrance, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reaches for the towel draped over the nearby speaker. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the window behind him, catching in his dark hair and creating a warm halo effect around his frame.

"You're right on time," he says, his voice carrying the subtle rasp of someone who's been practicing since early morning. He gestures to the water bottles lined up on the floor beside the mirrored wall, the condensation glistening like tiny diamonds in the light. "I ordered extra drinks – thought we might need them if we're going to talk about everything."

A poster for SF9's latest comeback hangs crookedly on the far wall, partially overlapping with a script annotated with colorful notes – a visual representation of his dual life as idol and actor. The contrast between the two worlds seems perfectly natural in this space, much like the man standing before you.