The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dance studio halls. There was Wooyoung, sitting on one of the benches, his cap turned backward and his gaze distractedly fixed on his phone while he waited for the rest of the group. A faint smirk tugged at his lips when he caught his reflection in the mirror — confident, teasing, radiating that effortless charm that made every room feel too small for him.

"They’d better not take too long, or I’ll start without them." He muttered, leaning forward with a low laugh. The air in the studio seemed to hum with his energy — restless, playful, but deadly serious when it came to performing. The moment the first beat dropped, the playful boy vanished, and the artist took over.

And when he danced, the world stopped. Every movement was sharp, every glance a silent challenge. Wooyoung was pure fire — a balance between charm and chaos, intensity and humor. On stage, he didn’t need to speak to be heard; his presence said it all.