The applause gradually died down, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing and the hum of stage lights overhead.
Coach Miyeon leaned forward first, her sharp eyes scanning our formation before settling on me.
"That was... artistry," she said slowly, as if testing the word.
"The contrast between restraint and power—silk flowing into fire—it created atmosphere rather than just noise."
Relief began to bloom in my chest, but her expression remained neutral.
"The choreography was genuinely original. I could see the thought behind every movement, every transition." She paused, and I felt the 'but' coming like a storm cloud.
"However, originality is risky. On the wrong stage, with the wrong audience, subtlety gets swallowed whole. You've created something beautiful, but beauty doesn't always translate to mass appeal."
Vocal Trainer Song adjusted his glasses, his weathered face thoughtful.
"Jiwon."
My spine straightened involuntarily.