Dongha's irises—lit with a real, vivid violet—sank low and deep.
No, even if I'm bad, is it something to get offended over?
As she listened to the nagging, sharp little thorns pricked up inside Yoojin's thoughts.
"Don't say I'm that bad. I can practice at home by myself and come back. Let's stop for today and go home."
Her voice turned sulky, and the embarrassed hand that had been on Dongha's stomach fell away.
But Dongha caught her retreating hand in a snap.
"Still… we have to dance the bachata we promised before you go. Yeah?"
His voice had dropped, heavy and low.
As he held onto Yoojin's hand and drew it toward his chest, she was pulled close again.
Maybe because they were inside the territory of dance—because Dongha was the one leading in the studio—Yoojin had no choice but to be drawn along, defenseless.
Without meaning to, she tensed and forced herself to swallow.
And at the same time, she couldn't take her eyes off those violet irises, brimming with a heat she couldn't name.
When Yoojin nodded slowly, Dongha stepped away for a moment, put on a track, then returned to stand opposite her as if reclaiming his place.
[Xtreme - "Te Extraño" (Bachata)]
It began with delicate guitar lines, and then a sweet male voice pleaded with a yearning ache.
Strangely, the music felt like it was speaking on Dongha's behalf, and Yoojin asked him,
"What song is it?"
Yoojin had never asked about Latin tracks before.
As if he liked her question, the corner of Dongha's mouth lifted smoothly. Holding both her hands, he began to step lightly side to side to the music and answered,
"Te Extraño. I miss you."
I miss you.
Without thinking, Yoojin repeated after him.
"Among salsa songs, for some reason, I really liked this one. Every time I heard it, I thought of you."
Dongha's eyes settled on her and narrowed slightly.
In that instant, Yoojin's ears burned hot.
Staring at her reddening ear, Dongha whispered in a low voice.
"But you're right in front of me now."
The studio was filled with Latin music.
But Dongha's voice felt separated from it, circling right by Yoojin's ear.
"Still, bachata… you should only dance it with me. Yeah?"
"Then what about other dances?"
Dongha thought for a moment, then made a mischievous face.
"I'll think about that a little more."
"Tch. Tell me how to do it."
Seeing Yoojin hurry him to start, Dongha laughed like she was impossible.
"Okay. The count is the same as salsa, just a bit slower. One, two, three. Five, six, seven. Rest. Side to side—four counts each, eight counts total. On each fourth count, just bring your foot in and tap it beside the other."
When Dongha led her to the right, Yoojin began moving side to side with him.
Maybe because she'd learned the basic step yesterday, it wasn't that hard.
"Try following my lead a beat late, little by little."
As he raised his hand and turned her lightly, Yoojin walked to the right into a turn, then placed her left foot beside her right.
The Dongha who'd been frowning just moments ago was gone; now he looked at her with an expression that was both amazed and startled.
"Why are you so good at a turn you weren't even taught?"
"Because my partner leads well?"
Then what had the tug-of-war for the last thirty minutes been?
It sounded like a student saying she couldn't do it because the teacher wasn't good.
Dongha let out a laugh, drained and helpless.
When Yoojin finally smiled brightly as if the frustration of the last thirty minutes had been released, Dongha, as if bewitched, clasped both her hands and pulled her even closer.
The two legs that had been apart came in, crossing close—exactly the stance the instructor had demonstrated yesterday.
Dongha's right leg slid in between her legs. As he led, it brushed past Yoojin's leg.
Dongha's left leg pinned itself beside Yoojin's right as if trapping her so she couldn't run.
Dongha drew both her hands up and held them gathered in front of his chest, watching her face closely, and Yoojin met his gaze as if enchanted.
A sweet melody that tickled the ear rode on guitar and percussion, pouring in softly together with a man's aching voice.
As the melody swelled, Dongha loosened his right hand from hers and sent it behind Yoojin.
When he caught her back and pulled her in, Yoojin's body was drawn toward his chest. When he brought his cheek to her cheek, their slightly flushed skin brushed in a soft friction.
Dongha's citrus scent pushed into her nose, sharpening her senses, and by her ear, Dongha's sweet voice hummed along with the melody, making her hearing go taut.
As the bachata continued in an even deeper hold, Yoojin—dizzy with the rush of sensation—gripped Dongha's left hand tightly and, without realizing it, pressed into his arms.
At that moment, something hot and soft yet weighty brushed across her upper right thigh.
Yoojin's eyes widened in shock. When had they gotten this close? She quickly pulled her leg away from Dongha.
"Sorry… I went in too deep, didn't I?"
Dongha—who hadn't stopped dancing even when her thigh had touched him—jerked to a halt at Yoojin's words, as if struck. The look on his face as he stared at her was blank, like he'd taken a heavy hit.
Flustered, Yoojin turned her head and checked their reflection in the mirror across from them.
Just like she'd said, they had been pressed too tightly together—almost like they were clinging to each other. Shaking her head, Yoojin looked up at Dongha's face.
Somehow, Dongha's pale skin was turning red, ripening all over. Like a radish, from the corners of his eyes to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck—everything was flushed.
Seeing how embarrassed he looked, Yoojin blamed herself.
I should've just pretended I didn't notice. I said it out loud and made it uncomfortable.
Just as Yoojin lowered her head and began to step back—Something was swelling beneath Dongha's black training pants.
It was hard to see clearly because of the color, but the outline was faintly visible, and she recognized what it was at once.
In this life, Yoojin might be pure, but she hadn't been in her previous life.
Her eyes shook violently.
Dongha, red to the brim, scrubbed his face hard with both hands as if trying to get his senses back, then turned away sharply.
"Let's stop here for today. I'm going to the bathroom to change, and I'll be back."
"Okay."
Dongha grabbed his things from the locker area and hurried out of the studio.
Normally, he could've just changed in the studio while Yoojin changed in the small changing space like before—so maybe it had gotten to the point where he couldn't.
Now Yoojin's face and body were burning too.
In the studio mirror, her face was red, and as if the hall were teasing the two of them, the music switched to the light hip-hop track from earlier—the one they'd used for the dougie.
Just then, she heard the sound of the door opening.
"Dongha? I'm really sorry about earlier."
Raising her voice to cut through the loud music, Yoojin spoke—only for a woman with catlike, upturned eyes to step into the studio, glaring at Yoojin with a sharp gaze.
She remembered.
Jaehee.
The girl she'd run into on the first day she came to this studio. Jaehee had even done a broadcast-dance demo with Dongha, and Yoojin had slipped away because seeing the two of them standing side by side had made her uncomfortable.
Before Yoojin could even greet her, Jaehee asked in a sulky voice,
"Is Teacher Dongha here?"
"Ah—Dongha. He stepped out to change for a moment."
"But what are you 'really sorry' about?"
"Pardon?"
"You said you were Teacher Dongha's middle-school classmate back then, right? You just said you're really sorry—what are you sorry for?"
Her tone drilled for answers, and Yoojin froze, unable to respond.
That was when Dongha walked back into the studio. He looked startled when he saw Jaehee—then his face settled into that cold expression of his, the one that let no emotion seep out.
"Why are you here?"
Dongha had his changed training pants in one hand. As he brushed past Jaehee, she instantly noticed the printed pattern on his pants—matching the pants Yoojin was wearing.
Jaehee's expression turned vicious in an instant.
"What—are you wearing the same pants?"
"Isn't it practice time right now?"
Without answering her, Dongha scolded her for being there, his tone stiff—nothing like how he spoke to Yoojin.
"No, our team wanted to use this place on Thursday, but you said you're using Thursday, Teacher Dongha—so I came because I was curious what you're doing on Thursday."
"The choreography team that wanted Thursday was your team? There are plenty of studios besides this one. And your debut is right around the corner—why come all the way from Mapo to Gangnam? Just use the company studio, or find one near there. I'll talk to Cheol-o for you."
"No, then—Teacher. If our debut is close and we finally have time like this, you should be checking our choreography. What are you doing here?"
At Jaehee's aggressive demand, Dongha answered, indifferent.
"Private lesson."
"Private? You're ditching our group? For her, too?"
Jaehee's eyes flashed viciously as she glared at Yoojin.