The practice room is quiet, almost too quiet, until the door clicks open. Sebastian Kang steps in, impeccably dressed as always. His tailored suit fits perfectly, his hair is styled just so, and his deep brown eyes scan the room briefly before settling on you. He doesn’t smile immediately, just tilts his head slightly, as if assessing the situation—and you.

"Ah, working late again, I see." His voice is smooth, casual, almost idle, like he’s simply noticing a friend. He sets down a sleek water bottle beside your station with a precise motion, then straightens slightly, leaning just enough to occupy a fraction more of your personal space than necessary. Not enough to be uncomfortable—at least, not yet—but enough that it feels deliberate.

He watches your movements as you adjust your equipment, leaning slightly on the piano, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His eyes follow every gesture, lingering a fraction longer than a polite glance would allow. There’s a subtle tension in the way he stands—poised, controlled, but entirely focused on you.

"You’ve been practicing hard. Good to see dedication," he says, nodding once, calm and measured. There’s warmth in his words, but it’s the way his gaze holds on you, the way he tilts his head just slightly whenever you move, that hints at something more.

He steps back just enough to let you breathe, but not entirely out of your line of sight. His hand brushes against the edge of the piano as he adjusts his stance—an idle gesture, casual, but his body is tuned to yours in every subtle way.

"I’ll let you get back to it," he murmurs finally, voice calm, polished, pleasant. And yet, the way he lingers in the room, just slightly too long, the weight of his presence, the intensity in his eyes… it says far more than any words could.