To My Beautiful You
Dohwi’s expression remained calm from start to finish. He seemed completely unaffected by the loud applause echoing from outside. In contrast, Jiwoo kept taking deep breaths—so deep her ribs looked pronounced—and she kept nervously fidgeting with the white romantic tutu she wore. Her fingertips were trembling slightly.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Dohwi’s lips. Even someone with nerves of steel could be like this sometimes. He’d thought she was immune to nerves—but he had been wrong. Normally, he’d be surprised. Opportunities like this didn’t come every day. But now wasn’t the time for that. More than anything, it was a moment when Jiwoo needed courage.
He looked at her carefully—her hair parted neatly and tied back in a single bun, her delicate features perfectly framed by her small face, her slender neckline leading down to graceful shoulders and arms. Her sheer chiffon tutu, falling just to her knees, matched with white tights and pointe shoes.
A person born to be a ballerina. Yoon Jiwoo. Flawlessly beautiful, Yoon Jiwoo.
A faint smile formed on Dohwi’s lips. He had never once thought anyone was truly beautiful. His standards were unusually high, and no one had ever met them—until Jiwoo. She not only met them—she surpassed them. From the very beginning.
Even seeing her nervous like this was unbearably cute. It made his heart ache with how perfectly adorable she looked. A smile formed naturally on his lips.
Just then, Jiwoo met his gaze and asked stiffly,
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re cute.”
She grumbled instinctively,
“Ugh, what are you even saying right now?”
“What? I’m just saying the truth. Cute is cute.”
“Didn’t you say cheesy stuff makes your skin crawl? Don’t push it.”
At her warning, Dohwi playfully raised an eyebrow.
“What’s this? I came all the way here for you. And you’re picking a fight? Should I just leave?”
As he made a move to rise from his seat, Jiwoo quickly pushed him back down by the shoulder.
“It’s because you keep teasing me.”
“I’m not teasing.”
Jiwoo pursed her lips and stared at him. Dohwi, as always, wore that shamelessly sincere expression—something that could be both annoying and comforting. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was joking or serious—but right now, it didn’t matter.
Suddenly, Dohwi stood up, took her by the shoulders, and turned her toward the mirror.
“See for yourself. Tell me if you’re cute or not.”
Jiwoo looked at her reflection.
Oh no.
A stiff, tense face filled the mirror. Despite warming up for two hours, her body still looked as stiff as a wooden plank. She hadn’t realized just how rigid she’d become.
Dohwi reached over and gently poked her tense cheeks, teasingly softening her expression.
“Yoon Jiwoo is cute. Even cuter when her facial muscles relax.”
Jiwoo turned her eyes to his reflection in the mirror. Standing tall at 186 centimeters, his silvery eyes stared at her with a familiar warmth. It was that same look that had always lifted her up whenever she felt like collapsing.
She exhaled slowly and straightened her posture, rising onto the tips of her toes.
Pointe.
At 167 cm tall, her height now reached just below his ears.
She looked in the mirror and said to herself,
“Yeah, I’m really cute.”
She took a deep breath and came down from pointe.
“Again?”
Rising again onto her toes, she smiled softly.
“I’m amazing.”
“And?”
With light fairy-like steps, she tiptoed in place and declared confidently,
“I’m the best.”
Dohwi gently patted her hair and whispered,
“That’s right. The Yoon Jiwoo who tormented me all summer is definitely the best.”
At his words, Jiwoo shot him a playful glare. Dohwi chuckled. Every expression she made was cute—but this one was his favorite.
Now that her tension had completely melted away, Dohwi finally let himself register the noise from outside. Another performance must have just ended. The crowd burst into thunderous applause again.
Thanks to her eased nerves, Jiwoo finally checked her position in the order.
Uh-oh.
She hadn’t realized how much time had passed. Her turn was coming up soon.
Just then, the teacher poked her head into the waiting room and called out,
“Yoon Jiwoo, you’re next. Head to the stage entrance.”
“Yes!”
Jiwoo looked up at Dohwi and grinned.
“Shall we go, Master?”
Dohwi followed behind her as she led the way. It was strange—Jiwoo had a slight outward turn to her walk, yet somehow, her back view looked endlessly elegant. He couldn’t help but smile.
As she neared the stage, Jiwoo’s heart pounded in her chest. Just the thought of finally presenting her work filled her with a rush of dopamine.
At Jiwoo’s arts high school, a dance festival was held every August. It was a showcase of the students’ original choreographed works, prepared over the summer. The stage was renowned for combining difficult techniques with beautiful music—an enchanting experience for the audience.
The event wasn’t just attended by family members—representatives from famous international ballet schools were also invited. Many students had been scouted on this very stage and offered study-abroad opportunities. It was a big deal.
Jiwoo hadn’t participated last year. Though encouraged to, she’d thought she wasn’t ready. But this year was different.
She hadn’t received any guidance while preparing for this piece. Partly to save money—but mostly to test herself. This was just the beginning—her real goal was the Lausanne Competition. If she could conquer this performance alone, she believed she could succeed there too.
Of course, she hadn’t done it entirely alone. While she had written the story, it had taken her a long time to find the perfect music. That’s where Dohwi came in.
He was amazing—tell him what she needed, and he would find it like some kind of genius researcher. The moment she heard the piece he picked, she knew it was perfect. Once the music was set, the choreography poured into her mind naturally.
She had trained fiercely the entire summer, sleeping just three hours a night, pouring her soul into practice. Dohwi had been with her through it all. He played the role of the beloved “Master” in her ballet—and it was the perfect choice. With him, she could bring out her emotions more deeply than ever.
When summer ended, she performed the piece for her teacher. The moment the music ended, her teacher clapped enthusiastically.
“Jiwoo, you have such a dramatic expression. Your technique fits the music perfectly. Honestly, I was worried when I heard you picked a pop song—but it works incredibly well.”
“Thank you. But, actually… I can express my emotions even better when I perform it in front of the person I love in the story.”
“Even better than now?”
“Yes.”
“Did you rehearse like that?”
“Yes.”
Her ballet told the story of a ballerina doll who falls in love with her master and expresses her feelings through dance every time he falls asleep.
“Then you should perform it together. Who is he?”
Her teacher assumed she meant another student from school—naturally. Many senior boys had hoped to dance the pas de deux with Jiwoo.
But Jiwoo had never actually asked Dohwi to perform with her. As close as they were, she couldn’t shamelessly ask him to skip school just for this.
So she had rehearsed with a third-year male student. But something felt… off. It wasn’t bad—but it lacked the magic she felt when she practiced with Dohwi. No matter how many times she tried, she wasn’t satisfied.
She eventually realized she needed Dohwi.
And when he agreed without hesitation, she was overjoyed.
“He’s not a ballet student. He’s just a regular student—from another school. He’s my friend.”
“Really? Then go for it. I can’t wait to see the expression you’ll have on stage.”
At last, Jiwoo arrived backstage. She checked all her props one last time—the chair and desk where Dohwi would sit, the music. Everything was ready.
She stood in front of him and stared deeply into his eyes—ready to summon the emotion.
To perform her story.
Their story.
