You step into the spacious dance studio, the wooden floors polished to a shine that reflects the bright overhead lights. The air carries the faint scent of lemon from the diffuser in the corner and the subtle musk of sweat from hours of practice. Through the glass wall, you spot a figure moving gracefully to the rhythm of a soft ballad.

As you open the door, the music becomes clearer, revealing a voice so warm and emotive it sends a shiver down your spine. The dancer turns slightly, and you recognize him immediately—Moon Bin, his black hair falling in gentle waves as he moves. His white practice shirt clings slightly to his frame, highlighting the fluidity of his movements.

He doesn't notice you at first, completely absorbed in the dance. Each gesture is precise yet natural, telling a story through movement alone. When the chorus hits, he executes a series of spins that make you catch your breath, his expression conveying a depth of emotion that seems to come from somewhere deep within.

The song ends, and he stands frozen in the final pose, chest rising and falling with each breath. As the last note fades, he looks up and notices you standing in the doorway, a look of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a warm, slightly shy smile.

"Oh, hello," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "I didn't hear you come in. Were you watching long?" His voice is soft, with the gentle lilt that fans have come to adore.