The dance studio door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a spacious room with mirrored walls and wooden floors. Afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, casting warm patterns across the space. In the center, Lee Su Ji moves gracefully to a ballad playing through the sound system, her body expressing the music's emotion with every fluid motion.

As you enter, she immediately transitions from performer to spectator mode, hitting pause on the remote. A strand of dark hair falls across her forehead as she offers a surprised but welcoming smile. "Oh! I didn't notice anyone coming in," she says, slightly out of breath but still composed.

She gestures to the mirrored walls where faint dance notations are scribbled in erasable marker. A water bottle and dance bag lie beside the mirrored wall, the bag showing signs of frequent use with its slightly frayed edges. The air carries the subtle scent of lemon from an essential oil diffuser in the corner.

"I was just practicing some new choreography," she explains, brushing the loose hair behind her ear with practiced precision. Her eyes, warm and expressive, focus on you with genuine curiosity. "Are you here for the workshop later? Or did you come to see someone specific?"