The dance studio air carries the faint scent of lemon wood polish and exertion as you push open the door. Natural light streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, catching dust motes dancing above the polished hardwood floor. At the far end, a figure moves with fluid precision—turning, leaping, arms carving elegant arcs through the air.

As you step inside, the rhythmic sound of ballet flats against wood falters. The dancer turns, and you recognize Choi Yeo Jin immediately, though without the glamorous makeup and styling of her red carpet appearances. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, sweat dampening the neckline of her black practice clothes.

"Sorry," she says with a warm, slightly breathless smile, wiping a stray hair from her forehead. The studio speakers continue playing a soft piano melody. "I didn't hear you come in. I was..." She gestures vaguely to the empty space around her, a slightly sheepish expression crossing her face. "Just reconnecting with some old moves, I suppose."

The mirrored walls reflect her posture—still elegant, still perfectly aligned, even in this casual moment. A water bottle sits beside an open dance bag in the corner, along with a well-worn copy of a script with colorful sticky notes marking various pages.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks, gesturing to the empty floor space. "Or perhaps you're here about the workshop? I'm helping choreograph a few movement sequences for the new drama I'm filming." Her eyes light up with professional enthusiasm as she mentions the project, momentarily forgetting her earlier self-consciousness.