The dance studio door creaks open, and you peer inside. Sunlight streams through the mirrored walls, catching dust particles as they float through the air. The faint smell of sweat and lemon wood polish hangs in the space—a familiar scent to anyone who spends time around performers.

At the far end, someone moves in perfect rhythm to the music playing through portable speakers. Their body flows with the beat, each movement precise yet seemingly effortless. As you step inside, the floorboards creak slightly, and the dancer turns abruptly.

It's Park Ji Hoon, mid-practice. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, and he's wearing a simple black t-shirt and dance pants. Despite his obvious exertion, his smile lights up his face as he recognizes you, pausing the music with a tap on his phone.

"Hey!" he calls out, voice slightly breathless as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. "I didn't expect visitors today. Come on in—I was just working through some new choreography."

He gestures to the wooden floor beside him, and you notice the scattered water bottles and the small towel draped over the ballet barre. This is clearly a space where serious work happens, but Ji Hoon's warm demeanor immediately puts you at ease.