Bright lights flicked on in the dark studio, and Yoojin and Dongha stepped inside, smiling.
"Wait a second."
Dongha handed Yoojin a shopping bag from a high-end sports brand he had prepared in advance.
"The dance I do needs equipment."
His face flushed with excitement, Dongha smiled brightly as he spoke.
"I'm not dancing. I just came to watch you dance."
"If I'm the only one dancing, that's no fun. Right?"
Dongha stepped closer to Yoojin, his face visibly lit up, a wide smile refusing to leave his lips.
Is coming here together really making him that happy?
Yoojin thought of the ballet she had run away from, and the disappointment young Dongha must have felt because of her.
To ease that guilt, she felt like she should go along with him as much as possible—but at the same time, she knew she couldn't give in to everything he wanted.
"You know I'm leaving on a business trip next Monday to handle a defect claim, right?"
"Of course. I'm your office partner, after all."
Office partner. Yoojin let out a small laugh. It wasn't wrong.
"Right. Since I can't come next week, we moved it up to today."
"Even if you can't come next week, you came yesterday and today. That already makes me really happy."
She had brought up the trip on purpose to calm him down, but his mood was floating even higher.
Dongha held the shopping bag for Yoojin with one hand, while covering part of his face with the other, as if embarrassed by how happy he looked.
He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.
"To dance this, you need the right gear. If you mess up your steps, you can twist your ankle easily. Thick-soled sneakers, and comfortable training clothes."
Only then did Yoojin realize she was wearing semi-formal office clothes. The tight-fitting pants that restricted movement suddenly bothered her.
"I wasn't planning to dance," she muttered, but in the end she nodded and said, "Thanks."
Dongha placed the bag in her hands.
She had received so much from him already that refusing no longer worked. The necklace he had given her still hung around her neck—it almost felt like it was her fault he kept taking care of her like this.
"You can change over there."
Dongha pointed to a corner of the studio where a small storage-room-like changing space stood.
The training pants he'd prepared were black and oversized, with sharp, neon-colored graffiti-like art printed boldly down the right leg.
Feeling awkward in the baggy pants, Yoojin stepped out hesitantly—only to see Dongha had already changed too, sneakers on his feet.
The print on his pants was the same.
Her eyes lifted slightly.
"Are they matching?"
"Yeah. Mine's the men's version, yours is the women's. I bought both."
Dongha tied his shoelaces and stood up, grinning with satisfaction at their reflection in the full-length mirror. His dimples were deeply etched.
Both wore baggy pants paired with fitted white shirts, looking like an office couple who came to dance after work.
"Wow. I like this way more than I expected."
Dongha couldn't take his eyes off their reflection, his face glowing.
"Stop it."
Yoojin waved a hand in front of his gaze, exasperated. Only then did Dongha look away from the mirror and grin at her mischievously.
It was an expression she'd never seen from him—not even in middle school. It made her feel strangely as if they'd gone back in time. Yoojin blinked.
"It's almost ten. We should go home soon."
"Okay. I'll start."
Dongha paused thoughtfully, then turned on the music.
[Teach Me How to Dougie – Cali Swag District]
It wasn't as fast as salsa—light, upbeat hip-hop.
A simple beat of drums and bass carried a distinctly hip-hop rhythm.
Dongha began moving lightly to the beat.
He bent his knees slightly, stepping softly, extending and crossing his long arms, adding waves through his upper body to vary the movement.
Without realizing it, Yoojin nodded along, tracking his movement as if searching for the rhythm herself.
"It's called the Dougie. West Coast hip-hop. If you want to give it more feeling, drop your arms lower, bend your body more, and ride the beat."
With just subtle changes in motion, it became a dance born from Black communities in California.
"Or lean back, give it groove, draw circles with your arms like this. Or stretch one arm while moving the other. You can also bring both arms to your chest and wave side to side."
Despite being nearly 190 centimeters tall, Dongha's movements carried no heaviness.
Tall men often look awkward when they dance—so why didn't he? Was it strong core control? Or was it hip-hop itself?
It was her first time seeing him dance hip-hop.
Before even judging the dance, she found herself stunned by Dongha's movement. The simplicity of the steps carried unmistakable professionalism.
His long arms and legs moved rapidly with the rhythm, as if swallowing the music whole.
Ah—he plays with rhythm.
Dongha noticed Yoojin drifting off. He stopped the music midway and walked over.
"So? Doesn't it look fun?"
He wasn't even out of breath.
"It looks… kind of fun."
After hesitating, Yoojin added,
"But you're really good."
Dongha demonstrated a smooth flow from left arm to right, breaking the movement gently.
"It's my major now. Since I do broadcast choreography these days, I follow trends a lot. It's different from when I danced street with the crew."
He shrugged casually.
"So—I'll teach you, step by step. You'll be good at it."
He said it with confidence.
*
But thirty minutes later—Dongha stared at Yoojin in shock.
"Were you always bad at dancing? Why can't you do this?"
He demonstrated isolations in front of her—upper and lower body separating smoothly, tension threading through his muscles.
But Yoojin was stuck on the most basic movement, struggling.
"I don't know."
"Why does the basic step work, but the isolation doesn't? Why is your core engaged but your body collapses?"
With the expression and tone of a creative director, Dongha lifted her arm seriously, analyzing her movement.
"But… isn't this better than when you started?"
Yoojin broke into a cold sweat.
But the crease in Dongha's brow wouldn't smooth out.
"What is it? Too much ballet? Is it hard to break the joints apart? You danced ten years, then stopped five years… your body should've let go by now."
Yoojin bit the inside of her mouth. She wanted to bite her lip out of habit—but Dongha hated that—so she bit down inside instead.
It hadn't been ten years.
In her previous life, it had been twenty-five.
Dongha placed his hand on her slim waist, guiding the isolation. When it still didn't work, he took her hand and placed it on his abdomen.
"Can you feel it now?"
The movement of his abs was clear beneath the thin shirt.
For someone who had danced for years, Yoojin immediately understood how the body was being used.
In ballet, the core held tension to maintain form. Moving it freely with rhythm was unfamiliar.
Her hand slid from his abs to his side, following the connected muscles, tracing upward along his ribs—then suddenly dropping lower, as if she'd lost track of something important.
She focused on the subtle motion beneath her fingertips—And then his movement stopped.
"Why did you stop?"
Yoojin looked up at him.
Dongha's jaw was clenched tight, the muscles standing out sharply. Through his brushed-down hair, his eyes glinted violet.
The broad chest that hadn't wavered during the dance now rose and fell rapidly.