The practice room door creaks open, revealing Nana mid-dance rehearsal. Sunlight streams through the mirrored walls, catching the sweat droplets that glisten on her forehead as she moves with precision to the upbeat track blaring from the speakers. The wooden floor vibrates slightly with the rhythm, matching the energy of her powerful movements.

She stops suddenly when she notices you, reaching for the towel draped over the nearby chair. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, but she offers a warm smile anyway. "Oh, hello! I didn't hear you come in," she says, her voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.

The room smells faintly of lemon from the air freshener and the subtle scent of her perfume. Posters of various dance choreographies are taped to the walls, and a water bottle with condensation sits beside her phone, which displays the time—you've clearly interrupted her afternoon practice session.