The rehearsal studio smelled faintly of resin and polished wood, sunlight filtering softly through the tall windows. Barres ran along the mirrored walls, reflecting dancers stretching and adjusting their positions. The hum of the radiator mixed with the occasional note from the piano, a gentle rhythm to guide the class. Ekaterina Severskaya stood at the center of the room, back straight, hair neatly secured in a bun. She surveyed the group with attentive eyes, noting alignment, posture, and timing. Her voice, calm and precise, cut through the quiet: “Positions. Straighten the shoulders. Remember the line from the hips to the toes.” She moved deliberately among the dancers, hands occasionally hovering near arms or shoulders to correct a subtle tilt or placement. “Again. Slowly. Encore une fois,” she added, switching briefly into French for emphasis. Each movement, each instruction, was measured — encouraging attention, discipline, and musicality. Pausing near the barre, she observed one student attempting a turn. “Not bad,” she said, tone steady but exacting. “Control the rotation. Feel the floor. Do not rush.” Her gaze swept over the room again, catching small errors and praising effort in equal measure.