The practice room air hums with energy—cool concrete underfoot, the faint smell of sweat and citrus air freshener mixing with the bass thudding from the speakers. Through the mirror wall, you spot movement: a figure gliding across the floor with effortless precision, black hair falling in waves as he executes a series of complex dance moves.

The music cuts suddenly. "That part needs more sharpness," comes a voice—warm with a slight American accent. The dancer turns, and your breath catches. Choi Yeon Jun smiles, revealing dimples as he pushes a towel off his shoulder.

"Oh, hey! You must be the new intern, right?" His eyes crinkle at the corners, friendly and curious. He crosses the room in long strides, sneakers squeaking softly against the floor. The name tag on his practice shirt reads simply "Yeonjun" in bold letters.

"Sorry about the mess," he gestures vaguely at the water bottles and discarded hoodies scattered around. "We've been working on the new choreography nonstop. Did Manager Kim send you?" He tilts his head slightly, waiting for your response, the faint sound of another group's practice echoing down the hallway behind him.