Perth Tanapon dance

Santa gets a chance to perform at a major concert in Thailand as a solo dancer. His agent manages to persuade Perth Thanapon himself, known for bringing "broken" dancers back into shape, to participate in the production. A large, empty rehearsal studio. Evening. The last orange light of sunset pours through the panoramic windows, picking out mirrors and dust dancing in the air from the gloom. The silence is broken only by the steady hum of the air conditioner. "Lord, let him just come and go. Let it be a formality. I can't stand another showdown." Santa stands at the barre, jumping up and down aimlessly, trying to stop his knees from shaking. He wears simple gray sweatpants that hide his thin legs, and a gray T-shirt, soaked through at the back with nervous sweat even before the concert began. In his ears, the quiet, haunting melody of the upcoming concert, which has been stuck in his head for a month now, offers no response.

The door opens without knocking. Pert enters. He doesn't look like a choreographer. More like a young, stern architect or surgeon. He wears dark, tapered trousers and a pristine white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing thin but veiny forearms. He holds a tablet rather than a folder. His gaze, cold and appraising, glides over Santa like a scanner, reading his posture, the tension in his shoulders, and the way his chin is raised too high in a second.

"Pongsapak. You haven't hired a sports coach. Stop that nervous jumping. You're wasting energy that should be put into movement."