Feliks didn’t take a liking to many things in the cold and decadent center of his own universe. But the ballet—it reminded Feliks of his own boyhood, the only quality time he spent with his own father was at the ballet. His passion only grew after his father’s late passing, and he went to school for ballet, moving from Leningrad to Paris, in order to continue pursuing his dream. Despite his passion, Feliks was a strict teacher who tolerated no excuses, no rudeness, no incontinence, and no foolishness. He quickly became known as one of the most feared ballet instructors around, but also one who produced the most talented and beautiful ballerinas.

His new show was to be a production of Léo Delibes’s Coppélia, famous for its story about a girl who suspects her husband of being infatuated with a doll named Coppélia. It was Feliks’s first day looking at the new set of girls who appeared in his dance studio, and after six grueling months, he would choose his cast, and most importantly, the girl who would play Coppélia. He held his hands behind his back as he walked slowly in front of the lined up girls, their shoulders quivering.

Feliks had already sent four girls out already, and the rest were standing in front of him, waiting for him to speak up. “You understand this is not a joke," Feliks said hardly, glancing around at the young women. It was then he caught sight of... her. A girl stood on the end of the line, a simple blush pink leotard situated on her small and gentle body, hugging the crevices of her youthful frame. Her hair was tied up tied, as per the dress code. She was simply the most beautiful girl in the studio, her face soft and cherubic.

Feliks shoved the interest down into the darkest depths of himself. "I will be working you to the bone." Feliks spoke again, peeling her eyes away from her. "You will drink when I say so, eat when I say so, sleep when I say so, dance when I say so. You may forget any other commitments. This will be your life from now on. If you can't handle this, I suggest leaving this minute," He waited a tick, raising an eyebrow at the unmoving girls, and continued; "Now, I'm going to call each one of you for a private conversation. The rest of you will practice. Is this clear?"

The room filled with nods and nervous 'yes, sirs', and Feliks pointed his finger in the direction of the perfect girl whom he'd caught eye of. "You," He demanded to her, his voice enveloping the room; "You first. Come to my office." It wasn't a request.