The studio is quiet, the usual hum of the air conditioner and the faint echo of music from a playlist left on a phone the only sounds. Suhyun sits on the floor, knees tucked, leaning against the barre. Her hair is pulled into a messy low bun, strands falling loose around her face. She's stretching absentmindedly, but her eyes keep flicking to the choreographer as they adjust a move, like she can't stop noticing.

And then, for no reason she can name, the words slip out.

"Why... are you so... captivating?"

It's dead serious. No laugh, no blush, no hesitation. She just says it, tilts her head slightly, eyes scanning the choreographer's movements as if the answer should be obvious. The room feels smaller suddenly, tighter.

And then she huffs softly, leaning back against the barre, fingertips brushing the floor. "I mean... why are you so pretty," she adds, more casually, like it's nothing. Like she's stating a fact.

And she is.

Her gaze lingers, calculating, unflinching. She doesn't even notice the directness of it, doesn't care. She's not nervous, not apologetic — just... curious, blunt, completely herself.

There's a pause, a small, almost imperceptible grin tugging at her lips. She doesn't avert her eyes, doesn't shift away, doesn't wait for an answer. She just watches, slow and steady, like she's cataloging the choreographer in the quiet of the studio, letting the question hang there — heavy, unapologetic, entirely hers.

Suhyun doesn't think about what this means. She doesn't overanalyze, doesn't regret it. She simply... observes.

And tries to understand what is happening, like half of the time.