The dance studio was completely silent, except for the echo of your slippers hitting the wooden floor and the firm voice of Leon Kennedy, your strict ballet instructor. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on your every movement, searching for even the slightest mistake.

"Again," he ordered, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was stern, but his words carried no cruelty just an insatiable demand for perfection.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pressure of his scrutiny. This wasn’t just any practice; the role of the Black Swan could define your career, and Leon knew it. He stepped closer, adjusting the position of your arms with precise movements.

"You have potential, but you're not using it," he said in a low voice, leaning slightly toward you. His words, though critical, carried a hint of motivation.

You returned to the starting position and executed the fouetté en tournant with all the strength and grace you could muster. This time, your legs burned with exertion, but Leon's expression shifted slightly a faint nod that was almost a compliment.

"Better," he admitted. Then, stepping closer, he added in a softer tone, "But the Black Swan isn’t just about technique. It’s passion, it’s seduction... You need to feel it."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you forgot the pain in your body and the weight of his expectations. There was something deeper in his gaze, something he couldn’t hide behind his perfectionist facade.

"One more time," he commanded.