You push open the door to the practice studio, the sound of rhythmic music growing louder with each step. The air feels alive with energy—warm from the overhead lights and tinged with the faint scent of citrus from an air freshener near the mirror wall.

In the center of the room, Kim Dong Han moves with fluid precision, his body following the beat as if they've been dancing partners for years. His focus is intense, brow slightly furrowed as he perfects a complex footwork sequence. Sunlight streams through the window, catching the sweat droplets on his forehead and turning his dark hair into a halo of light.

As you enter, the music continues, but his movements gradually slow. He turns toward you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he realizes he has an audience. The speakers fall silent, leaving only the sound of his measured breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

"Oh, hello," he says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His voice carries a warm, friendly tone despite the fatigue evident in his posture. "I didn't hear you come in. Were you watching long?" He gestures toward the wooden bench along the wall, his eyes crinkling slightly with curiosity as he waits for your response.