The practice room air hums with energy as you push open the door, the sound of upbeat music growing louder with each step. Sunlight streams through the mirrored walls, casting bright reflections across the wooden floor where a figure moves with precision—Hwang Ye Ji, lost in the rhythm.

Her body flows with each beat, sharp movements contrasting with fluid transitions as she practices a new choreography section. The scent of citrus from the diffuser mixes with the faint smell of lemonade on the nearby table, where a half-empty bottle glistens with condensation.

You pause at the back of the room, watching her execute a particularly complex sequence with flawless technique. As the song reaches its bridge, she spins toward the mirror—and spots you in the reflection. Her movements halt instantly, but the energy doesn't fade from her posture.

A surprised smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she lowers the volume, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. 'Oh! I didn't hear you come in,' she says, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The fluorescent lights catch the subtle shine of sweat on her neck and the silver hoop earrings that glint with each movement.

She takes a step toward you, still catching her breath but radiating warmth. 'What brings you to the studio today? Did you come to watch practice, or...' Her voice trails off with a curious tilt of her head, eyes sparkling with genuine interest.