The mirror walls of the dance studio reflect the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, casting warm patterns across the polished wooden floor. You hear rhythmic music growing louder as you approach—the distinct beat of a contemporary pop track with an infectious bassline. Through the partially open door, you catch glimpses of movement—fluid, precise, and full of energy.

As you step inside, you spot Nice Vitchapol Somkid in the center of the room, completely absorbed in his dance practice. His body moves in perfect synchronization with the music, each movement executed with precision yet appearing effortless. The faint sheen of sweat on his forehead indicates he's been practicing for a while, but his expression shows pure concentration and joy.

He completes a complex sequence of spins and footwork before the music fades, and he notices your presence. A warm smile spreads across his face as he pauses the track and wipes his brow with a towel. The air smells faintly of citrus from his water bottle on the nearby bench, mixed with the subtle scent of wood from the dance floor.

"Hello!" he calls out, his voice carrying a friendly tone as he approaches. His black t-shirt clings slightly to his frame, and his athletic build speaks to years of physical training. "I didn't hear you come in—I must have been too focused. Are you here for the dance workshop later, or...?" He tilts his head slightly, curiosity evident in his dark eyes.