A Pheasant Instead of a Chicken
From the advertiser's point of view, choosing Kang Ji-hoon—who'd appeared all over the place—over me, whose recognition was practically zero, was the obvious call.
Even if the child acting fell short of expectations, Lee Joo-young's direction could cover for it to some extent.
Still, from where I stood… it stung.
He could have really pulled it off.
In the ad I remembered, the child actor had never managed to land the punchline—the absurd, mind-bending twist at the end.
Because Kang Ji-hoon's acting simply wasn't at a level where he could deliver 'a range' of emotions.
It was only thanks to the two adults' over-the-top reactions and the director's deliciously stylish execution that such amateurism went unnoticed at all.
Come to think of it, why did I even bother showing off my acting for a role I couldn't appear in?
Making a deep impression on Director Lee Joo-young had cost me far too much effort for the payoff.
Even without an audition, there would have been plenty of other chances to show him what I could do.
Or is it possible another opportunity will come of it?
If the butterfly effect is at play—like when I stopped Ms. Jo Ha-rin's accident—then all bets are off.
But as of right now, I had no way of knowing how my future might change.
Ugh, forget it. Time for a snack.
The moment I heard the blender whirring in the kitchen—my favorite banana smoothie—my mouth began to water.
"Idiots, every one of them. What? It's fine as long as both are good-looking? Matching the child actor with the adult is everything. You know that, hyung. Remember how it wrecked the immersion completely on Ladder to Heaven when they botched it?"
"I keep telling you—eat something while you drink. How many shots have you downed already?"
"My insides are burning, that's why! Burning! Fine, whatever, that witch Joo Se-hee running her mouth is one thing, but what did the CEO even offer them to insist on Ji-hoon and nobody else?"
Director Lee Joo-young, knocking back soju shot after shot, poured out his grievances to PD Jo Seung-hyun.
Between the audition fiasco, he'd apparently landed in a full-blown falling-out with not just the advertiser but his own company as well.
"So what are you going to do? Quit the company?"
"Can't, not yet. I've got to tough it out for another two or three years. Min-gyu won't be able to join me until the year after next."
"You're really going to start your own company?"
"Obviously. Why else would I be busting my ass under an ungrateful advertiser and a garbage CEO? You're the same, hyung—shooting variety shows while your heart's set on dramas. If it weren't for film, I wouldn't be putting up with this either."
"Fair enough, you have been singing that film dream since college. Are you and your crew still running around together? What was it again? That mackerel…."
"Mackerel Deboners."
"Right, that. What kind of film club name is that, though? What are you, pirates?"
It was the name of the club Director Lee Joo-young had founded back in college, rounding up classmates and juniors to shoot indie films.
"We're changing it anyway. 'Deboners' is too hard to pronounce."
"To what?"
"Mackerel Kidnappers."
"God, why don't you just go all the way and become an actual crime ring."
Their spirits loosened by the idle banter, the two men kept clinking their glasses together.
"Did you contact Ha-jin?"
"I spoke with his mother. They came all the way out for the audition, too. I feel terrible."
"Feeling bad aside, it's a damn shame about his acting. I watched the footage you edited—the kid went absolutely feral. When he hit the ground, I felt the pain."
"It's even more unreal in person. Imagine how I feel, having to shoot with a tadpole after passing up that."
"There's nothing on the schedule besides Wagle Wagle Kindergarten for now. Want me to hook you up with the drama department?"
"I'll make the first move. I owe him, so I'm going to pay it back."
"Shooting another commercial?"
"There's someone even bigger than me out there. Since I can't shoot it, I'm going to put him on a much bigger stage. Make that witch Joo Se-hee and the CEO shed tears of blood watching it."
Director Lee Joo-young threw his head back in a booming laugh and tipped the glass down his throat.
In 1999, at the tail end of the century, SJ Telecom released a dreamlike, sensual advertisement built around a millennium-eve mysticism concept.
Lim Eun-jung, a rookie model with an otherworldly aura, wound a music box underwater, hurled tomatoes at a wall, and fished a cell phone out of a shattered fishbowl.
The series—also known as the TTN Girl campaign—set the country ablaze with buzz, captivated the younger generation, and single-handedly swept away SJ Telecom's dusty old brand image.
Park Myung-chul, the advertising-world titan who had directed the series, studied the junior director seated before him with a long, level gaze.
"You've gone and screwed something up, haven't you?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's a 'I need a favor' face if I've ever seen one. A guy like you—never once whined at a senior for anything—showing up at my door first? You expect me not to be suspicious?"
"Come on, hyungnim, what is that supposed to mean? I heard you were in a bind lately, so I came to help."
You're helping me?
"That's right. I hear Lim Eun-jung is being replaced."
Three-plus years of leaning on the mysticism concept had dulled the ads' impact—the response wasn't what it used to be.
And the final blow: The Match Girl's Murim, the film released this year, flopped so catastrophically that its lead actress, Lim Eun-jung, took devastating damage to her image.
"Who blows years of carefully built image starring in a movie like that? Seriously. Years of it, gone."
"It's not Lim Eun-jung's fault, though. Her agency probably told her to take it."
And that was why Director Park Myung-chul was hunting for a new model.
The moment Lee Joo-young heard he was reaching out not just to adult actors but to child actors as well, he'd come running.
Since the campaign itself traded on mystique, recognizable faces were the first thing to be ruled out.
Which makes Ha-jin a perfect fit.
"You haven't found your child actors yet, have you?"
"How do you know I'm looking for a child actor?"
"Are there secrets in this industry? Everyone's one handshake away from knowing everything. I've got the child actors locked down, so tell me what you need."
Director Park spoke with a dissatisfied frown.
"A boy and a girl, lower elementary. The girl's settled, but I haven't found the boy. Anyone who looks good on camera has a stack of ads behind them, so they clash with the concept. That's the situation."
"Who's the girl?"
"Han Sora."
"What does Sora know about mysticism? How many films has she even done?"
"She's never shot a commercial, has she? That's more than enough."
Only then did Director Lee Joo-young realize—Han Sora had indeed never done a single ad.
"That's wild. A face like hers, advertisers should be lining up at her door."
"Director Han Jae-ryong, that's why. Says her image mustn't get chewed up by commercials, and he's turned everyone away who came knocking."
"Then he wouldn't do your ad either, hyungnim."
"Mine's different. Where in the TTN campaign is there any image to waste?"
It was a mobile carrier brand ad, so the product never appeared on screen at all.
The stylish sets and direction were so cinematic that, seen blind, you'd mistake it for a music video.
An ad that added to an image rather than ever consuming it.
"I'm close with Sora's agency CEO. I already asked him to talk Director Han around. It's not like she'll never shoot a commercial her whole life, and if it's her first one, what could be better than mine?"
"That's true enough. Then I'll introduce you a boy."
"A good one?"
"His name's Byun Ha-jin—he's on a kindergarten TV program. One look and you'll say 'that's him.' I was planning to use him first myself, but things got tangled up and he couldn't make it into my ad."
"How old is he?"
"Six."
"A kindergartner, then. Isn't that too young?"
"He's big for his age. First time I saw him, I honestly thought he was in elementary school. And by that logic, Sora's a kindergartner too."
"The girl can be a little small. Big-brother-little-sister framing works fine for the concept anyway."
"Even better, then. He's on one of those Sesame Street-style kids' shows. He won't look the least bit out of place in an ad."
"He'd need quite the face to hold the frame next to Sora."
The TTN ads contained not a single line of dialogue—everything had to be conveyed through expression and gesture alone.
Which was why the looks of the models mattered above all else.
"Heh heh heh. One look at this, hyungnim, and you'll change your mind."
He showed him the edited audition footage saved on his digital camera.
At first, it was a light little 'hm, the kid's got a decent face' sort of watch.
But when it reached the acting portion, Director Park Myung-chul's expression turned grave.
This isn't just 'natural.' How is acting like this possible in an empty auditorium? What on earth is going on inside that kid's head?
He was so absorbed that not a single word of Director Lee Joo-young's explanation reached him.
"Play it again."
Even on the tiny screen, everything the child was trying to express drove itself straight into his mind.
"One more time."
After running it back a full five times, he opened his mouth with a dazed look.
"Where is this kid right now?"
"A commercial offer? For Sora?"
Director Han Jae-ryong's brow creased deeply over his newspaper.
At the irritation in his voice, the agency CEO he'd been talking to instinctively hunched his shoulders.
"Dad. Don't yell at the CEO."
"Sorry, Sora-ya. He caught me off guard with something out of nowhere."
After apologizing to his daughter, he turned his gaze back to the CEO.
"I made it perfectly clear we don't do commercials."
"Of course I know that. But Director Han, this one's genuinely too good to pass up. I'm talking about the TTN campaign, for crying out loud."
"TTN? The one Lim Eun-jung did?"
"Exactly. They're replacing the models and looking for child actors now. You've seen the ads yourself, Director Han. Does that look like a commercial to you?"
His cinematographer had recommended them to him once.
The visual language was unmistakably a different breed from ordinary commercials—strikingly memorable.
And above all, Sora had liked those ads.
It's true the image suits her, I'll give it that.
"Would it be just Sora?"
"She'd appear alongside a boy."
"Who?"
"Nothing's confirmed, but apparently there's a kid under discussion. Now hold on, his name was… he was on the same program as Sora, I know that much…."
Sora's head, which had been fiddling with her cell phone, whipped around at terrifying speed.
"Ha-jin? It's Ha-jin, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes—Byun Ha-jin, that's right. The boy appearing with her."
"Dad!"
It was the first time his ever-quiet daughter had ever led with her emotions like this.
"I want to shoot this one!"